Firstly, I'd like to apologize for both parties that get involved with this literary masterpiece. I know both of you will...uh...understand!
Secondly, I'd like to apologize to anyone who puts the effort in to read this whole piece.
Je t'aime
It was a hot summer morning and Dave awoke from a deep drunken sleep, breathing hard after having his buried in the pillow trying to ward off the urge to vomit the night before. The sheets had been pushed off of him and now lay on the floor, revealing his muscular buttocks and thighs to all who chose to peer in through his bedroom window. Dave started to come to; the grogginess of the morning began to wear off and he began to ponder why he was not wearing any clothes as he usually fell asleep in at least his bikini bottoms.
More peculiarly, he began to ponder about the slight burning discomfort that now emanated from his shapely butt cheeks. Dave thought, “My, you must’ve have some mighty nasty beer shits during the night, Mate.” As Dave rolled over, it revealed his beard, no longer parted and spiked towards the sides, but straight down, much longer than it usually lay. However, as he rolled, there was a crunch, “What the hell was that?” Dave asked as the intensity of the burning between his buttocks increased. Dave looked to see an Opus X band laying on his bed cover. Ideas began to run through his head as he jumped from his bed.
As he tripped over his neon pink dress and stripper boots, he was horrified to only see a broken cigar with tobacco bits littering his bed sheet. “Oh no, not again…” Dave thought as his hand ran down his chiseled abdomen, around to his back to feel the rest of the cigar protruding from his behind. Many times had time fantasized about making love to his favorite cigar, the Opus X. Dave had had incidents previously with lesser cigars, just a tip, just to see how it felt. However, he never mustered the courage to experience a coveted Opus X in this different way as he had always wanted.
The day before, Dave had purchased an Opus X A, an over nine inch long cigar, and the temptation to show his devotion to Opus X had been too great in his drunken stupor the night before. He quickly noted the bottle of KY Gel, which lay on the bed stand and at least acknowledged his ability to understand the need for lubrication. Dave quickly thought to close the blinds to hide the shame, which quickly overwhelmed him, but decided to defend his actions and leave them open for all his neighbors to see if they so wished. As Dave grabbed his head to rub his pounding headache, he then manipulated his hands to part his beard and achieve his usual look as he shuffled into the bathroom to see what still remained lodged inside of him.
As he viewed his shapely buttocks in the mirror, Dave couldn’t help but be slightly upset about the shattered Opus X that protruded from his body, which he may no longer be able to smoke. Dave thought “Well, no time like the present,” as he quickly removed the cigar like a sword form its sheath. It burned, but the construction of the cigar allowed it to come out in one piece. As Dave tossed the remains of the cigar into the trashcan, he realized from the length that it was the Opus A, which he had purchased the day before. Sadness once again flooded over him, as he recognized he had quite a nicotine buzz from the cigar being inserted the entire evening. Dave quickly remembered the parcel that was to arrive today and it brightened his spirits slightly. However, the combination of the nicotine and headache from the hangover began to become overwhelming for Dave, and he had to rest, just staring out the remains of the cigar in his trashcan.
Dave eventually mustered the strength and lumbered his way into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet to see his favorite breakfast fancy staring him in the eyes: Vegemite and white bread. “Nothing cures a hangover like some beer yeast.” Dave walked over to and opened the refrigerator to get some orange juice and the cold blast chilled his naked body, which was glistening with sweat. Through this frosty chill arose the hot, amorous thoughts of the package that was to arrive soon. Dave poured out last night’s beer from a Solo cup and poured a large cup of orange juice. He then proceeded to make his Vegemite sandwich, his buttocks shaking from behind as he spread it over the bread. As Dave moved with his sandwich and juice towards the couch, he began to regret his passion the night before with the Opus X. He didn’t regret the action, but the fact he was too drunk to remember or appreciate the act, which he so greatly desired.
Just then, the doorbell rang and Dave excitedly dropped his orange juice, which he had been holding, spilling it on his feet as he scampered back into the bedroom to throw on some bikinis. While he found it appropriate to leave the shades open while roaming naked, he found it inappropriate to force someone have to view him naked; those who peered through the windows should be greeted by whatever the find. Unfortunately, Dave found no clean bikinis in his dresser and was forced to put on the one’s from last night. He skulked back to the door, thoughts of the package dancing through his head, hoping that the postman would be waiting with the package.
Dave’s hand trembled as he touched the hot brass of the knob. He slowly turned it as the person at the door knocked impatiently and rapidly. Dave flung the door open, only to behold a gruff man, strangely not in uniform. The man was tall, bearing a scruffy beard, which Dave frowned upon considering his styled facial hair, a lumberjack shirt in red flannel, and grey fleece pants. Dave looked peculiarly at this man dressed so out of season for the hot Australian summer, but the man carried a large brown box. Then it hit him and he was flooded with emotion. Tears began to roll sharply down his cheeks as he lunged forward to embrace the man, who promptly dropped the box to the ground. Passion overcame the two men and their lips locked as if to tell the world of their love. After a few minutes of this embrace, Dave realized it was not the cigars, which he feigned love with which he desired. Nor was it was not the package, which he was excited to see, but the fact that it had been in the hands of the man he loved and could never have. Dave’s heart embraced what now was, “I love you Justin…”