Dear God,
Are you seating up there in some clouds thinking..."ah, I'm bored. Let
me check my iPad app for -Those who didnt go to church
today-...Hmm...Denzel again? Let me fuck with him for a minute! hey,
angel Gabriel...come and watch this..."
*back on planet earth Denzel is in queue at cash machine*
Here I am stuck in the queue. I strike up a conversation with the pretty someone in-front of me who happens to be "carrying" a fine set of buttocks that only African women are allowed to "carry" around.
What an easy way to garner every iota of my perverted attention.
She (also) looks good.
She (also) talks good.
She (even) smells good.
We swap numbers and just as am thinking why the man above has been good
to me considering I haven't been in a place of worship in ages, she
yawns and stretches her hands to reveal...lo and behold...her under arm
had more hair than Micheal Jackson when he was black.
Promptly deleted that phone number. If she she has an afro under her arms she probably has dreadlocks between her legs.
Unequivocally NOT my type. Deuces!
*Back in Heaven*
God and Angel Gabriel are cracking up ..."Hahaha, now that was funny.
Being God is fun. Back to business. What has the pope tweeted of late
...hmmmm..."
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