• Thanks for the crabs.

    by  • March 18, 2010 • The Ex • 0 Comments

    Seriously. That was such a nice gift you gave me. And it truly is “the gift that keeps on giving.”

    I have been debating which was sweeter. The fact that I was sitting on the toilet, minding my own “business” and I looked down to find 3 little critters on my bikini line – OR – the fact that when I called you and said, “You gave me crabs!” you responded by accusing ME of having an affair. That sir, was the move of a classically trained Dickhead. Touche’!

    It was when you told me that you’d visited a strip joint in Mexico (and you were so ashamed) and some Chi Chi Mama must have dropped an errant crab critter on you while dancing near you (not FOR you, just NEAR you) that I thought, ‘hey, maybe this guy is speaking the truth’.

    Later that night, my head was laying lovingly on your chest as we shared our communal bed, exhausted by the drama of the day. My eye caught the most miniscule of twitches. I turned my head. I looked a little closer. I took off my glasses, since I see better up close, to get a more scientific inspection of your chest. You, Sir Dickhead, were riddled in crabs. You looked like you’d done pulled up the whole crab pot on your chest, sir. Why, if they were true to scale, these crabs could have fed a small country. Well, at least a small country of strippers – I don’t think they eat much on account of them having to be naked all the time. And I’m not sure what this country would be called, maybe “Dirty Hoslavania” or “Nekkidmy”. I am, however, quite sure that their flag would incorporate a fair amount of pasties and sparkles. But I digress.

    My 3 little crabs, I’ll call them Larry, Moe & Curly – since they must’ve come from a stooge, seemed minor to your crop. I did quite enjoy the crab comb. The hours spent combing your large tufts of chest hair hit on my primal nit-picking urge. And I must confess, when you wailed in pain as I combed and combed, inside of me a little rainbow formed. It was a rainbow that with each whimper grew and grew until I was able to reach the end and find my pot of gold. Except it wasn’t a pot of gold. It was a “Get Out of Hell FREE” card. And I took that card, cashed it in and I got out.

    And I’m proud to say that I’ve been 100% Crab Free ever since.

    So, in all honesty, thanks for the crabs. IN the process of getting rid of them…I got rid of you.

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