Orders from Central Command:
Get your shit in order son.
Report to Iraq.
Report to Iraq soon.
Since receiving this news, I've had a constant hard on. It's become a bit bothersome. Don't get the wrong idea, Tricky Dick's not some relentless trunk of wood, he's just a very light, very restless sleeper.
My tastes have gone from refined to having ankles turn me on. Any flash of flesh and hint of eyeball will suffice. Slender thigh meat makes me salivate. Ass cheeks can't be too big or too bony for my fascination. All I see is the sexual nature of all women who pass within my vision.
Women with babies, born and unborn, athletic women, wheelchair women, noneck women, tired women, put upon women, chirpy women, savage women, ditzy women, pale, dark, yellow, spotted, giraffe-like, chipmunk tail, women of all shapes all ages and all sizes constantly call out for my attention, as long as the woman has some redeeming attractive quality, my dick is game.
She could be picket fence toothed and silverbacked but if she's got creamy long legs-Wood.
Long neck with an ET forehead and skis for feet but her eyes are amber jewels perched atop pillowy DSL's-Wood.
Man hands and Popeye legs but a slender waist peppered with freckles topped with floating milk bags-Woooooood.
As you can see, even horrid women garner my attention. Put a dime piece at my nose and watch me soar like a rocket tied to two useless flaps of flesh.
My perceptual awareness is also under constant barrage. I say thank you to someone who replies "Anytime" and that word stretches out into a loaded and bloated mass of innuendo sodden with all types of dirty endless possibilities. Every mouth is an invitation. Smiles are dark and sensuous. Hellos are insistent demands for the vigor of my stroke. Even inattention is nothing more than a furtive demand of “grab a handful of my hair and take me! Who cares if I've got three kids I'm screaming at and I'm trying to argue with the post office lady. I can see you out of the corner of my eye and its taking all my will power not to rip off my clothes. Take me! Take me! I need a roll of Forever Stamps!”
Don’t even think to ask what my dreams are like.
I’ll let you know when or if this new reality subsides.