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Bare Rump's Diary

I wonder what those beasties taste like?

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Advice for the lovelorn.

It took me two days to find Tiffini. I later discovered she had been on an all-day field trip to the Smith & Wesson factory. When she got back home, we just missed each other -- Tiff busy shooting paper humans with her father's Model 320, me draining their neighbor's John Travolta. (Tiffini left me an exception in the 'no doggies' rule for John and other crotch-sniffers.)

Woof woof yiipe!

Next morning, feeling a tad logy, I crawled out of my burrow to find that Tiff's bus had already left. And I missed her again after school. Where was she now?

I tweaked the rasper so that my human voice would sound like Tiffini's best friend Melodi. Then I knocked on the front door and hid myself around the side of the house.

Tiff's mom opened the door.

"Who's that? What kind of game you playing?"

"It's me, Mrs. Thompson. Melodi."

"Melodi? Show yourself, girl. What's got into you?"

"I can't, Mrs. Thompson. I've got a pimple."

"A pimple? Man, you Steinitz girls mature fast."

"Ma'am? Where's Tiffini?"

"Why, Melodi Steinitz, you know very well Tiffini's at the Daddy-Daughter Ball down at the Grange --"

I'll spare you all my feigned stupidity; suffice to say, Mrs. Thompson gave me helpful instructions, and I was off to the Grange.

I must say, Mr. Thompson seems like just as big an ignoramus in a tuxedo as he did in his blue jeans and Budweister tee-shirt.

Apologies for the terrible image quality. There were so many men carrying weapons at that dance, I didn't dare risk approaching too closely.

That night, I tossed pebbles against Tiffini's window. After a few moments, she hiked up the window and fairly screamed, "Bare Rump! You came back!"

"Shh! Not so loud. Can you come down?"

We pow-wowed in the barn. (I'm learning so many new words from the girl. Interesting things, like Grrlz Rule and clitoris and biyotch. She's so wise.)

"Okay, Bare Rump. I'll tell you how to get to the White House if you tell me how to win back Otis Plunkit."

You could have knocked me over. Then again, maybe not. "Otis Plunkit? But you hate Otis."

"He won't talk to me or nothing. And now he's chasing Jennifer Calway, and she has boobs, but I think she stuffs."


"And she's just a cheap whore anyway. You don't believe me? She's the one who told me about the clitoris. Said she read about it in her daddy's anatomy book, cuz he's a jinacologist, which means he sees all the cooch in a day any normal man sees in a lifetime, that's what my daddy says, so that means Jennifer must know loads about how her own cooch works, cuz her daddy's an expert, right? and I don't know nothing about my cooch, 'cept it sure scared hell out of Toby Spurls that day I showed it to him behind the Ecker Drug. Took off like he was covered in fire ants, 'cept that might have had something to do with me telling him I had my what's-it removed on my fifth birthday, and him about to turn five and all. So maybe I know something, but that don't amount to nothing next to Jennifer Calway, why, she's a sex encyclopedia! So how am I gonna compete?"


"Well? How am I gonna compete?"

"Tiffini, I am not going to drain Jennifer Calway for you."

"Wouldn't help, anyway. Otis hates me. If Jennifer dies, he'll just chase someone else."

"And you don't want to lose him to Jennifer."

"Well, duh! Haven't you been listening?"

I sighed (a rather complex maneuver involving forced compression of my book-lungs). Tiffini was a hungry female, just like me.

I said, "Have you tried tapping outside his burrow? I mean, his bedroom?"

"Tapping what?"

"Your leg, dear. It's to let him know you're interested."

"Huh? How do you mean?"

I showed her.

"Cool! It's like dancing!"

I sighed again, and settled in for a long night of instruction. Tiffini had so much to learn.


  • At 8:26 AM, Blogger Gabriele C. said…

    Does Bare Rump's cool translation device work for German as well? Tiffini might be interested in a German teenie journal which has been popular over here for ages (it already was popular when I was a teenie, and that does put it back a bit) and it still is. It's a mix of popular boy groups and actors, dress and cosmetic tips and sex info. Yes, sex info. N17 stuff, read by 12 year old girls. I think the covers with Paris Hilton and Orlando Bloom scare the mothers off so they never look inside "Bravo" and the (in)famours Dr. Sommer column. Dr. Sommer might have a few tips for Tiffini. After all, it was her who told me there's someting like anal sex - back when I was 14 and had no experience with the more traditonal variants to begin with.

    Did it corrupt my innocent little soul? Well, my mother still thinks I'm innocent, and she can't read my NiPs to find out the truth.

    Good luck, both of you.

  • At 10:40 AM, Blogger Bare Rump said…

    Hmm. Anal sex. Don't your spinnerets get in the way?

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