Going “Commando”

I recently visited the local supermarket to pick up a few required ingredients for that night’s dinner. I normally bypass the produce section as my body is allergic to all fruits and vegetables. I am lucky to have a body that performs best when fueled purely with the flesh of animals. This particular market required that I actually pass through the “green” zone to reach the beloved meat department for my daily cut of beef.

That’s when it happened. A beam of light burst through the ceiling and singled out the most beautiful, sacred object men have quickly learned to appreciate: a gorgeous female reaching for something that is just outside her reach. It could have been that perfect red apple or the just right size orange. Whatever it may have been, in that instant, a flash of G-String gently knocked on my eyes. My eyes gladly said come in. Unfortunately, Pope John Pole III heard some commotion at the front door and came down the stairs to say hello. Yes, Major Woody decided to make an appearance while I sat there empty handed in the middle of an aisle with no concealment or cover. Did I mention I was going commando with only a set of warm up pants to protect me from the elements? This was indeed a public emergency of Katrina Magnitude and I sat there as helpless as George Bush, Jr. in front of all those kids during 9/11. Yes…it was that epic.

Commando is cool only if "they" do it....

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