Monday, March 05, 2007

Pineapple

I came back from having a cigarette outside.
Mr B leaned back, with a look on his face I can only describe as wilfully destructive. "I never go down on women who smoke. Their cunts taste like an ash-tray," he said.

This may be true, but I don't think he should have used the present-tense in front of his wife. Although, despite being in a crowded bar, she was doing a crossword puzzle, so his interest in other women should be unsurprising to her.
"Mine tastes like pineapple," I said, elaborating no further.
He looked awestruck, and worse, intrigued.

There may be trouble ahead.

9 comments:

noizy said...

the mind boggles.

you know this ... how, exactly?

llew said...

I've got the tune to Finn's Pineapple Head going through my mind :)

Oswald Bastable said...

Yes- I Do like Pina Colada!

d-man said...

Yes, add me to the Intrigued list.

:)

Mrs Smith said...

"Ha, Ha," I said, elaborating no further.

kublai kahn said...

If I didn't know better I'd think that y'all are trying to get Mme. Smith to admit to being a wanker...

Mrs Smith said...

Oh are they? There are other ways of finding these things out, you know....

Seamonkey Madness said...

What, like asking politely?

Mrs Smith said...

Goodness gracious! Does one really have to ask? What an unappreciative lover you must be - does your mating ritual consist merely of you presenting your bottom to your partner, like a rutting baboon?

I think I shall have to close comments on this one... Mr Smith will have a fit.