Ultra Relationship News – No. 3 – “The Ex”

[Editor’s Note: Since only a few have bothered to complain (privately) it seems completely outrageous to continue this series publicly. Or not. You decide. Delete or bear with. Hey, it’s yet another “Bad Joke Friday,” eh?]

ULTRA RELATIONSHIP NEWS

Number 3, “The Ex”

by Yours Troubly
(With all due homage—and nothing else—paid to David Mamet,
but now with somewhat necessarily changed language,
due to polite society)
[Eddie and The Strawman have just run—or probably mostly walked—their usual Saturday long run,
but this time they’ve found a new Dunkin’ Donuts that they’re patronizing]

EDDIE: (stuffing in some sort of glazed variety) You tried one of these?

STRAW: Nah.

EDDIE: (munching) You should.

STRAW: I like ‘em with the jelly.

EDDIE: Inside.

STRAW: Yo. Inside. The best is flockin’ inside.

[Eddie eats while The Strawman drinks his coffee]

STRAW: And that reminds me.

EDDIE: Mummmmpfff?

STRAW: Right. I’ve been thinkin’.

EDDIE: (swallowing) That’s always dangerous.

STRAW: Ya know, that Babe I was tellin’ you about.

EDDIE: You went runnin’ with her. She ended up at your place.

STRAW: Then left.

EDDIE: In a hurry.

STRAW: On accounta her claimin’ I didn’t—quote unquote—“measure up.”

EDDIE: Right. She’s the inked-up bodypainted bodybuilder needing mirrors all the time.

STRAW: Yo.

EDDIE: Like as if SHE was measuring up…

STRAW: Right!

EDDIE: So. You was thinkin’…

STRAW: Right. I got to thinkin’ about HER Ex.

EDDIE: The one that got the shaft while she got the lift.

STRAW: Right. It’s what got me to thinkin’.

EDDIE: Always dangerous.

STRAW: I’m thinkin’… you remember what she told me was HER idea of men “measuring up”?

EDDIE: A foot. Wasn’t that it?

STRAW: Anything nine inches or longer, is what she said.

EDDIE: So, THAT’S what got you thinkin’ about her Ex?

STRAW: Right. So, I was thinkin’… suppose I was to meet up with his divorced-and-happy self at some bar sometime. What would be the FIRST FLOCKING QUESTION I’d like to ask him?

EDDIE & STRAW: (in unison) HOW BIG IS YOUR SHAFT???

STRAW: Ha! I’m thinkin’ tiny.

EDDIE: She was married to the dude. So it was probbly gigantic.

STRAW: No flockin’ way.

EDDIE: Yeah way.

STRAW: She flocking divorced his asp!

EDDIE: But you don’t know WHY!

STRAW: I know why. ‘Cuz his schlong was too short!!

EDDIE: You don’t know that. They probbly got un-hitched ‘cuz he ran around on her. Or vice versa.

STRAW: I’m tellin’ ya! She ran around ‘cuz his privates was pea-sized!

EDDIE: And she needed bigger.

STRAW: You flockin’ A she needed bigger! So she ditched the stringbean to find some.

EDDIE: Bigger.

STRAW: Flockin’ A!

EDDIE: Big thick fat carrot probbly.

STRAW: Complete with the flockin’ spray-tan orange.

EDDIE: But if it really was pea-sized, she wouldn’t of married the stud in the first place.

STRAW: Nah. I’m thinkin’ at the time she didn’t know any better.

[They sip their coffees]

EDDIE: So she, what, acquired her better… um… “taste” for bigger later? Afterwards?

STRAW: I’m tellin’ ya!

EDDIE: No. No way.

STRAW: Flocking A!

EDDIE: She woulda hadda been used to it first. That’s why she told ya, you didn’t flockin’ measure up.

STRAW: To her Ex- Old Man? They’re divorced!

EDDIE: So how else did she get used to THE BIG ONE?

STRAW: ‘Cuzza her extramarital dating activity.

EDDIE: Her “extramarital dating activity.”

STRAW: Right. Somewhere along the line, she hooks up with some no-neck King Kong with biceps like bowling balls and a five-pound 10-pin in his pants!

EDDIE: Male bodybuilders have no bowling pin.

STRAW: How the flock do YOU know?

EDDIE: I read about this. They’re all impotent. It’s why they muscle up—to compensate!

STRAW: Nah.

EDDIE: Yeah! And all the steroids don’t help neither.

STRAW: Come on.

EDDIE: No, serious! It’s the same as with some other wimpy dudes drivin’ hot sports cars. To compensate!

STRAW: You’re flocking foolin’ me.

EDDIE: Nope. You remember that Whosissface… that famous porn star… Johnny Wadd was his nickname.

STRAW: So?

EDDIE: So, HE HAD THE SCHLONG! All the beeches went nuts for the stud. And HE was this skinny twerpy-type dude!

STRAW: Like… me???

EDDIE: Like most runners. Why you think she went home with you in the first place?

STRAW: To pull my shorts off?

EDDIE: Yup. You flockin’ A, dude!

STRAW: So these chicks think us men runners are ALL Johnny Wadds?

EDDIE: That’s about the size of it.

STRAW: She expected me to be… whatshisname… John C. Holmes.

EDDIE: And when you weren’t, she split.

[They each grab another donut]

STRAW: (holding up the hole to the light) It still doesn’t say anything about her, though.

EDDIE: Who?

STRAW: Her!

EDDIE: The hole?

STRAW: Right. The mirror-squinting double biceps chick.

EDDIE: She was disappointed. You’re not Johnny.

STRAW: So who died and made HER The Queen of All Porn?

EDDIE: Chicks can get away with that. No stiffness needed. They don’t even have to have pokey nipples.

STRAW: What?

EDDIE: You know, like to poke your eyes out with.

STRAW: Right.

EDDIE: All’s they need is a little lube and they’re good to go.

STRAW: Yo.

EDDIE: Which gives ‘em, um, one HOLE helluva lotta power over you!

STRAW: On accounta not measuring up.

EDDIE: Right!

STRAW: So you think her Ex was huge.

EDDIE: An’ you think he was a stringbean.

STRAW: Which is what drove her outa the house in the first place in search of bigger adventures.

EDDIE: And why, when she saw YOU, she simply reflected back on her prior marriage experience, and KNEW your asp just didn’t ring that bell at the pole-top of the carnival sledge hammer booth.

STRAW: The what?

EDDIE: Never mind.

STRAW: I still say her Ex was smaller.

EDDIE: Smaller? Smaller than what?

STRAW: Than me!

EDDIE: (laughs) Oh, right! And THAT’s why she ran out your door screaming into the night!

STRAW: She was just faking it.

EDDIE: OH, RIGHT!!

STRAW: It’s what chicks do. When they’re scared.

EDDIE: OF YOU???

STRAW: Yo! Or else maybe she was just on the rag.

EDDIE: No, she probbly left your place and immediately hustled over to her Ex’s. Leapt right back in the sack with the stud and hollered: “GIVE IT TO ME, BLACK BOY!! ALL TWELVE INCHES!!!”

[The restaurant falls immediately silent; two police officers sitting on stools at the counter turn around and glare]

OFFICER 1: (who happens to be African-American) Excuse me?

EDDIE: Oops. Sorry, sir. I must’ve just got carried away.

OFFICER 2: (who happens to be huge, and Caucasian, gets off his stool) Maybe you two had best get carried away someplace else, huh?

STRAW: Sure, Officer. I gotcha. We were just leaving anyway.

EDDIE: Yes, sir. (gathering up napkins and other trash off their table) I’m sorry. We’ll go.

STRAW: (as they’re leaving) You got any more goofy hair-brained theories about bodybuilders?

EDDIE: I don’t know. Maybe.

STRAW: Save ‘em for next week.

EDDIE: OK.

STRAW: Besides, I’ve had another, even crazier adventure in the meantime.

EDDIE: I can hardly wait.

[They leave]
Happy Long Run Tomorrow, Every Body!

Yours troubly,

Rich Limacher
TheTroubadour@sbcglobal.net
(“recently deputized to help with the police manpower shortage in guarding donut shops with barstools”)

Yankee Folly of the Day:
Yet another good reason for getting a divorce (and this just seen on TV at lunchtime) is as follows. The “Kiss Cam” at the Chicago Bulls game suddenly zooms in on a lovely couple, who oblige the camera and kiss passionately. Meanwhile her husband and possibly his wife are each at home (separate homes of course) watching the game on TV, both thinking their ever-lovin’ true life’s partners are working late at the office.