The Bedtime Tales of Be287m

Can You Help A Guy Out?

I�m a guy. Subtlety and nuance? Forget about it. I see purple. Not mauve, lavender, or plum. Purple. That�s good enough for me. And smells? Hey�leaving for college is not the time to discover you�re allergic to the family cat. Eighteen years of Kleenex being my best friend and lots of blank stares when my sister exclaimed, �Wow! The cake Mom�s baking smells great!� Uh, whatever.

My wife cares, though. It led to a huge fight the last time I did the shopping. Carla was pissed when I bought her rose scented soap instead of lilac. �So what?� I said. �They�re both flowers!� She tried to explain the difference, but I blew her off. I don�t apologize for being a guy. Carla fumed and said she�d find a way to make me care.

And tonight she did. I came home to find her and our neighbor Beth in the den, drinking. The kicker was, they were both in skimpy lingerie. I�d never seen Beth dressed like that and while Carla had always tolerated my threesome fantasies, she�d never expressed any interest in actually indulging them. Then they stunned me again. They said they were both wearing floral perfume and if I could identify the flowers, they�d both be mine for the night. But if I couldn�t . . . Carla and Beth would go next door and Beth�s husband would get the goods.

Thank God my phone rang! It was the office, with some minor problem, but I was able to ham it up. The girls agreed to wait until after I got back from my work �emergency.� But the florist shop on Elm was closed! So I am really glad you�re not. Which means I gotta ask . . . can you please help a guy out?

--Fin--

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