Let's just say that I'm relatively tamenowadays and no longer one for challenging my contemporaries by means ofargument.That said, I have drafted this...fictional expression of a very deep rootedphobia that continues to haunt me as a means of being able to relate thisinternalized dilemma to others.Okay, sure, there are any number of people who I've been an ass to overthe years... those who wouldn't hesitate a moment to start the socialwhisper regarding the curious, ever-so apparent spurts of. But I always felt bad about the bragging. I learned a lesson on humility. In ending, I sometimes wonder what became of her. Did she become a sex addict? A nympho? Maybe even turned lesbian? But the real question that haunts me is....who the fuck found that shit infested colonel of corn I flicked off my Dick and where was it? Did someone pick it up off the carpet and think, that’s odd, I don’t remember eating corn in here. Or did it wind up in stuck on her Guess Jean jacket and simply get. More

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