DEBAUCHED, WITH A BANANA

Yesterday evening my apartment mate returned home happily vocalizing about ice-cream. Then she had a bowl while watching Home Shopping Network. Rocky Road, made with dark and walnuts.
I'm more of a chocolate swirl kind of guy.
Or caramel swirl. With chocolate.

She was happily oblivious to everything except the intellectual concept which is known as 'mallowmar', apparently an East Coast variation on what civilized people may know as 'negerinnetetten'. We don't have those here. She wondered about them.


Now, kindly imagine what would have transpired if at that moment I had been debauching a young lady with bowls of caramel swirl gelato. She would be lying in my bed, nearly nude, with stickiness around her lips.
It was a warm day, unseasonable, and the partial disrobing is explained the same way as the ice cream: cooling down for comfort. And it allows her to clutch one of the monkeys to her bosom, who is loudly clamoring for banana flavour. Dammit, where's my nana and dairy!


"What kind of a heathen country is this, with banana igloo bars so hard to find?!?

"Bollocks, I say, complete and utter pig bollocks!"


"Honey, I think he's talking about you", the young lady whispers into my ear with her hot sticky rosebud lips brushing my lobes -- it had been a very large and delicious serving -- as she hides completely under a sheet from the now agitated simian.

"Why on earth would you think that?" I shall then ask, "you haven't seen them yet!"

Which is true; our partial undress is "modest".

And only for the heat.


[Clarification as of 11:15 AM: It should be mentioned that I merely removed my socks and shoes, but encouraged her to take off far more, because women are so sensitive to excesses of temperature, and I am a considerate and caring man. The monkey,
of course, is more carefree and disarrayed than either of us.]


Right about now my apartment rate comes leaping in, hollering about icecream, gaily oblivious to the other human in the room.

Who, still hiding from the rambunctious ape, remains entirely invisible. Consequently my apartment mate does not notice her at all. And hands me a big bowl of ice cream: "here, taste this, it is delicious!"
Cautiously I try some. It is indeed delicious.

A small monkey paw comes out of the covers with a spoon, scoops up a bit, and withdraws into hiding again. There are smacking sounds, and my apartment mate stares, mesmerized.

"Who is THAT?!?"

Three voices simultaneously exclaim "monkey", thus blowing believability. Mine and hers, OR mine and the monkey's, would have been logical.

My apartment mate now draws back the blankets, to reveal my delightful debauchee with a furry animal on her chest, who in the icecream interval had managed to reclaim his favourite spot, and now assertively insists:
"I found her, she's mine!"

"Banana!"

The beast growls possessively, to protect the young lady from my depredations. I am flummoxed.



"Bananananana!!!"



The Rocky Road Icecream was very good, even though marshmallows always make me think of little odious bubbles of slime. Unfortunately there was no innocent maiden to have some also, and the monkey merely sneered from the other room, because there was no banana.
So I had to eat too much ice cream last night.
One bowl of swirl, and bowl of road.


There is no young lady to debauch.
It would have added so much.


The amusing thing is that my apartment mate's boyfriend is lactose intolerant. So she has to share the icecream with me.



One of the monkeys (the small gorilla) is presently sitting in the teevee room with a box of Lemon Bites from Just Desserts on his lap.
I think he's trying to tell me something.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================