It IS what you think...Mature

collecting humorous thoughts about a different kind of singing telegram, the new, the racy, the Mamm-o-gram!

"When I answered my front door yesterday, absently listening to the faint echo of the doorbell, I think I had a microscopic aneurysm." I paused my recollection, waiting for the man's pen to stop scratching his notes of my story.  After a moment, he looked up and nodded.

"I remember feeling so flabbergasted, way beyond shocked, and the headache hit me in that second.  I almost forgot I was about to have guests over for lunch, so surprised by the force of the visual assault she- she- made on me..." My voice trailed off, against my will, and I felt numb, unable to speak for at least thirty seconds.  Initially, the man did not notice, and jotted several things down, circling the last one, and clicked his pen nib in and back out.  Finally, his eyes found mine, and he jumped to his feet, yelling for help.

"Hey, get someone in here," his voice had risen an octave or two from where it had been when he ushered me to the chair opposite his desk...


(so at this point, I am hoping my dear readers will take up their preferred mode of input, typing a paragraph to a page in continuation of this prompt, letting their imagination run wild, and as mature and or naughty as comfortable.... thanks.  can't wait to see what transpires, a la collaboration!)

The End

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