BackNe

Overnight, my city has morphed into San Francisco. I know this because while minding my own bidness in the gym locker room, this squatty girl with terrible backne and pasty reptilian skin sauntered past me, gave me a smoldering look, and ripped her towel off as she walked over to the scale. She proceeded to stretch, arch, and weigh herself for a full two minutes, all whilst casually glancing my way to see if I was watching. And of course, I totally was staring. In open-mouthed horror! I couldn’t look away! It’s like when you’re driving and you see road kill and you like, can't stop yourself from turning to get a better look at the guts and matted fluff and you go, “ewwwawesome!”

This is not the first time the girl, to whom I so affectionately refer as BackNe, has done something of the like. The first time she suggestively yanked off her towel was on a jaunt to the showers. It was more subtle that time, with a sly glance over a pock-marked shoulder, so I shared it with my buddy Zhan with much less enthusiasm than the second Event.

Zhan, however, thinks that I should respond to her advances in the form of waiting until she's in a shower stall, and RIPPING the curtain open to slinkily say, "I'm sorry, I didn't know this one was taken." I told him that I would get sucked in by a pus filled vacuole only to never be seen again, but he still dreams…especially of me seeing what her grooming habits are and reporting them to him. We think that as she has backne, she might have cuntne as well. God, I hope to never have the misfortune of knowing.