Friday, January 28, 2011
I decided to break out the Rusty Sleeveless Tee today.
Trust me, nothing garners respect and admiration quite like a Rusty Sessions sleeveless T, (supplies limited). Wear it when the temperature is below 0 degrees, and your nipples will be good and hard, as will the nipples on your goose-bumps.
I strut into Walmart like I just won the scratch off. The ladies eye me like hungry goats eyeing some sort of goat feed container filled with goat food.
"Confident, proud, sleeveless," I imagine the checkout girls saying to each other as I stride into the store.
As I approach, they see the portrait of a one-eared sheep on my chest. Obviously a principled man, certainly great, but humble. As I pass, they catch the first glimpse of the rooster on the back. "The Cock."
"Where has he gone?" all of the checkout girls wonder anxiously as I disappear into the labyrinth of clothing aisles.
When I reappear with a pair of sweat pants obtained from the clearance rack, and I approach the checkout area, there is a swoon so distinct as to be audible.
"Did you find everything you need," asks the girl lucky enough to check me out.
"I did now," I say with a wink.
She blushes and shyly places the change into the palm of my hand. I smile and slowly turn. She strikes a coy pose and watches longingly as the Cock gently splits the sliding glass doors and thrusts into the bright afternoon sunlight to disappear.
That is one good fucking shirt.