A Romp in the Bramble PatchMature

When I looked out my kitchen window and saw the nearly nude young man walking out of my woods, I came close to dropping my cow print mug. I did manage to spill hot tea all over my hands, however, so my gasp was one of pain as well as surprise. With a lightning bolt gesture, I grabbed a kitchen towel (covered in a pattern of little fishes) and wiped off my hand and the kitchen floor, because despite my eagerness to investigate the occurrence further, I couldn't bring myself to just leave a puddle of sticky tea to dry on the floor.

I stood back upright and peeked out a corner of the curtain so as not to be seen through the window. I examined the foreign figure as he moved serenely over the back lawn with small, irregular steps, and could only describe the scene and the man's behavior as "weird as hell." With one hand he held up his only article of clothing - a dirty, partially decomposed grocery bag with ripped-out leg holes pulled over his "vital" areas like a nasty plastic diaper. His other hand was empty, but he seemed excessively fascinated with it, stopping to examine it every few moments with what I would call undue wonder.

He didn't quite seem to be rushing his way to the house to force the back door and ravish me on the kitchen floor, what with seeming more interested in shuffling along and stopping in random spots to explore the apparently captivating minutia of my yard.

He would find a place to rub his feet on the grass, as if it was swanky plush carpeting, sometimes followed by his rubbing his feet up and down his calves, like he was scratching them with his toenails. He might stare at his feet a few seconds, then repeat the process, or move along to his next task. My mother always told me to contemplate my navel. This guy seemed pretty keen on contemplating his feet. His hand, too.

After a while of watching the freak show, I figured maybe I had some kind of new age-y hippie weirdo to deal with, because he did a lot of staring at the sky and doing what appeared to be deep breathing exercises. Probably a flake who went down an isolated dirt road and trespassed onto some nearby property to commune with nature, shed his clothing, dropped his acid, and here were the results making an ass of themselves for my mid-morning amusement. Or else he was an escaped mental patient gone half-primitive.

In any case, I reckoned I would probably be willing to sleep with the bloke if it came down to it. Hey, pickings are slim in these parts, and the dude was good looking, as well as batshit insane, which happens to be a major turn-on for a girl like me.

The End

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