Manners should be something well minded – for it’s one of the few dang things in this here world that it don’t cost but a wink and a smile to use ‘em. Well, see here now this question reminds me of somethin’ that happened a while back. I went to the big city once and ended up walkin’ into this nudie bar, quite by accident I assure you, and I got an eyeful of a nekkid lady dancin’ on a pole – she swirled around that there pole like nothing I’d ever seen before and boy howdy I tell ya – made me come to think that it’d be mighty nice to come home an’ see that every once in a while. I won’t even get into the names them there womens chose but they were all centered on variations of the words used to designate a feline.
I thought I had gotten a lucky break when I was perusin’ the paper and they had an advertisement in there for a pole cat. It got my mind to thinkin’ that people are generally sneaky about puttin’ naughty stuff in the paper on account of moralistic eyes so I figured it was code for one of them nekkid woman dancers doin’ home shows and I do have that reinforcement pole down in tha basement and all so I went and sent in my twenty dollars for that pole cat…which turned out not to be what I was a figurin’ it was, but one hell of a mean feline…I think it was just plain bad manners in lyin’ in the gosh darn paper like that; after all it did say ‘pole’ and well, if the slang for women’s privates weren’t the same word for the slang of a cat, well there wouldn’t have been no wrongful interpretation of the advertisement. That hurt, it hurt a lot and left scars that will never make me the man I once was – I ain’t talking just about the psychological scars, I’m talking about physical scars too.
I ain’t a one to give up just because of some nefarious characters lyin’ in the paper about what they’re selling – I was aimin’ for a pole dancer and gosh darn it, I paid twenty dollars and I was goin’ to get to catch an eyeful of some pole dancin’. I even went down to the Sally Ann and paid a whole fifty cents for a really classy-like womanly two piece bathin’ attire so I set about getting that cat to give me my money’s worth. When I was done growd up a bit and hangin’ with the older men folk I heard the phrase ‘nothin’ wrong with getting some tail’ and I set my mind up to be believin’ in that adage…well, I’m here to tell you here and now that it’s an out right lie – not only is it wrong but it hurts a heapin’ too. Not only did them there claws tear into my legs a might while I was tryin’ to affix them there pasties and frilly undies on that darn cat but that tail kept thrashin’ about and wouldn’t you know it – it got me several times in a place where an overweight fly landin’ there causes a man pain. To make matters worse, the cat didn’t have rhythm so I had to hold the damn things legs and move them around the pole all seductive like so I didn’t get to watch the show from the right kinda seatin’ position.
That’s why I don’t like folks who don’t have the manners to tell the truth about what they’re sellin’ – just ain’t right, it’s just not right, I tell ya. All I can hope is that them folks that falsely advertised the polecat felt shame every time they saw me for a couple of weeks afterward; the condition they done put me in was shameful. I was so swollen and sore and cut up I had to wear a muu muu on account that I could have anything against my inner thighs and my privates could have been mistaken for two watermelons down there. I had to walk sorta half squattin’ with my legs spread so far apart it looked like I was straddlin’ two bull elephants. To make matters worse, gravity isn’t a friend of agin’ – my boys were, well, ever had rug burn? Hurts a heapin’, don’t it? Try cee-ment burns – damnation, that’s just torture so I had to tie a rollerskate on just so they’d stop getting the outer skin layer peeled off every time I stepped out the door…