Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Anonymous Confessions, volume 2: The old man's troubles

Anonymous Confessions, volume 2: The old man's troubles

This monologue was recorded with a tape recorder in the basement of an anonymous old man and written down for publishing with permission. Names have been changed.

''Well, I ran into old Nelly Biggles at the church bake sale today. Bought some, uh, nut butter crispies, there. Won't be able to chew 'em up too good less I dip 'em in my coffee. That's the way I like 'em. . .You like cookies? Here. Have one. You probably got yourself your original good teeth. Oh, old Nelly Biggles. . . Boy was she a piece O' tail back in the day. Breasts so perky her nipples would get hard enough to cut glass, like the diamonds do. Bottom so squeezable it was like a firm, uh, uh, uh, thing, I suppose. Now, she's just a dried up old windbag for Jesus. Jesus this and Jesus that.

She didn't never used to talk no Jesus when she was talkin' 'bout sexin' and sinnin'. No, sir! Ah, well. Good times is gone now. No, why, she just looks like a slinky with eyes, now. Nobody wants her talkin' 'bout no sexin' anymore, that's for sure. But, she could talk 'bout Jesus a little less. The man was humble; wouldn't want to be the center of attention every dadblamed minute! ''EHHH, buy these nut butter crispies for the Lord!'' she says. Shut up, woman. You've got yourself a problem.

The Lord don't want no nothing from cookie sales. He's fine. You're the one who ain't fine. You probably still goin' ta Hell with all that sinnin' we did back up on old Bushmill Hill. Why even through the war, I never encountered such a slut. Was a great girl, then anyway. Ah, I'm not complainin'.

Now, why, I'm limper than a rubber noodle on a Tuesday dinner plate just tryin' to compete with the buttered ear of corn, if ya catch my drift. So, it's not like I'm runnin' her down for bein' older. No, I don't have the sex anymore. Truthfully, I'm glad I don't.

I stopped likin' sex around my eightieth, as it can go with a bad back and a bad hip...well, and a limp noodle, too...I suppose. Not much in it for me anymore. That's why I got a dog. Dogs don't want no sexin', just food.

Well, I suppose they is some dogs that are perverts and do want sexin' from people but then again, they is some people that is perverts who want the sexin' from dogs but I ain't talkin' 'bout those ones. No, I'm talkin' of normal dogs, you see. They is good, not perverts.

Why, I'm a normal, non-perverted man, myself. I don't want nothin' from my dog but somebody to talk to. Somebody that don't ramble on 'bout Jesus all the time.

Anyway, I guess that's my confession- That I'm all jelly in the under shorts and I used to get sinful with old man Biggles' daughter, Nelly and I only talk to my dog.

Just so we're clear, it's just talk, once again. Neither of us is perverts or nothin'. . . Okay, you boys better leave now. It's time for the Wheel of Fortune and I've got to take my fish oil or I won't be able to get my second movement in before I go to sleep.''

*This edition of Anonymous Confessions is brought to you by Johnson's Bottles.

Johnson's Bottles: Bottles for your Johnson.

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