Yellow Monkey Bars & Unbidden Erections -a failed campaign- a novel

 

A solid 45-minutes later Hale is then casually spotted exiting the suburban abode of one Miss Holly A Truner, a stain of hickies coating the curvature of both his neck and his shoulders like some sort of allergic reaction, thinking to himself that perhaps it was a good idea that Cabbages decided to tell Hale that they needed what Meredith-Elise refers to as a “Moratorium” since the whole VonB-grandmother fiasco a few weeks back. Hale’s ears register the sweet imploring chirp of Holly’s voice, hitting the side of his face like a spring wind in mid-autumn, simply inquiring when will she see her Juggy-bear again. Hale then smiles, offers his signature whoo-hoo, places a post-coital Macanudo between his lips in the fashion of a CEO and a freshly inked contract before he turns around informing the sweat-dappled forehead of his newly christened dear friend that she can find him in the erotic bedroom upholstery of her every waking dream, as he turns around once again, takes a few casually puffs, two stepping it all the way in the direction of Tim Brandigan’s abode half a mile away, a purloined cotton souvenir stowed in his pocket still semi-moist and somehow pure.