The Money Shot


So there is this bartender/manwhore who works at a bar next to mine

I have heard, that when it comes to women, he still maintains a thin layer of the primordial slime that separates man from beast (or man from astroman)

In the real world, the one determined by a delicate balance of physics and logic, where gravity tugs at the moon and levity tugs at the corners of my mouth-everything about this guy is a red flag

he reeks of cheap beer and sour grapes. He is mostly likely damaged goods and possibly a vessel of herpes and a vassal of misogyny

Yet, I wanna shoot jaeger and have a pillow fight with this fella

I am hopeless.