Remo came back from Mad Jacks with frosty brew in stomach, and an enlightened mind in the skull. He posed an interested question, "Given the opportunity to have sex with one woman, celebrity or otherwise, but only one woman how long would you do it for-- the caveat: after your time is up you no longer get to have sex for the rest of your life."
I thought about this with a much furrowed brow. "You mean at the end that would be it? I don't know, five years, maybe?"
Remo watched the television for a second, then offered a follow-up question, "What if you were given the option of having sex with any woman that you wanted, but at the end of the time you couldn't have sex for the rest of your life? So, for instance, you're thinking of a good looking woman and, 'BOOM' there she is waiting for you."
"Wow, the TV would take on a new version of the Home Shopping Network; live television would change as we know it."
"What's the minimum amount of days that you would do that?"
"I dunno, six months?"
"I think I would go even as low as thirty days, hell, probably a day. Think about the opportunities. And it's not like there isn't legal precedence behind this, it's not like we've actually done anything with ourselves for the past couple of years anyway."
"Oh I'd have to kill myself when it was all over. A) I would never be able to accomplish anything so great in the rest of my life, and B) What else would I try to do? Or, snap, best way to do it, bring Salma Hayek over to Balddee's house, and have your way with her."
Remo shot whiskey out of his nose and down the front of his shirt, "Balddee wants to be my dick, Balddee wants to be my dick, Balddee wants to be my dick."
"Just calling him, and asking for the name of various Brazilian girls would be worth it. Hell, for the comedic value alone I would probably be able to go for like 30 days."
Remo and I both slurped silently on our brimful of whiskys, each amassing a list in his head for how we would spend our 30 days.
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2 comments:
Hold up, is this thing automatic? You mention that if you think about a lady then bam, she's on your sofa, so what happens if you think about, say, the cast of the Golden Girls?
Do they automatically show up or is there a lust sensor that realizes that yes, you thought about them but no, not in a sexual way?
As if there's any other way to think about Bea Arthur.
Finally, if you do think of a lady that is not worthy of coitus but only after she's on your couch then what? Do you have to let her down easy?
Well metered questions, Harm. Remo added a further caveat that people would only be allowed 2 choices a day.
As to your creepy obsession with Bea Arthur, and to add in another wrinkle (that should be self explanitory), the desired person must be alive. I'm sure legal ramifications would need to be added to ensure of no Helen Hunt or Jodi Foster mishaps.
Oh, and Balddee came over the other night at which point I was cracking the egg of knowledge over his head about this. It absolutely did not work... he was a lost, lost puppy.
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