almost okay

“Ha ha, hack!” said Lyzako.

“Whoo, smells like taint!” said Davey, holding his nose with one hand and his belly around the middle with the other.

“I'm telling you guys, men are fucking stupid,” I said. “I bet I could sell the perverts worn women's panties and wear 'em myself. I've seen the ads on craigslist.”

“I need another beer,” said Davey. “I don't know how many there are left, though.” Davey dug through the icy water at the bottom of the cooler for a stray can of Blue Light. I helped him look. It was almost eleven and the driveway was pretty dark, most of our light being supplied by candles. For ambiance. Chicks must've planned this party... candlelight and twelve light beers. Yeeee-hah!

“Nothing like throwing a party and buying a twelve-pack,” Lyzako said.

“Yeah,” I said, “they sure don't know your friends very well. Everybody keeps trying to put me on a diet, but I'm not buyin' it.”

“Ah hah!” said Davey as he scooped out an ice-cold can. “And here's another one, Marty.”

“You da man,” I said to him. “The problem is these new cans look like diet pop cans. It ain't right.”

“Any more in there?” asked Lyzako.

“One more,” said Davey, “and that's it.” He handed the last one to Lyzako.

Lyzako belched. “I'm gonna have another shot. Anybody?” He poured three tall Patrons.

“To your health!” said Davey.

“Here's mud in your eye!” I said.

“Sto lat!” said Lyzako.

It was one of several going away parties being thrown for Lyzako, the lucky bastard. Another send-off to celebrate his move to the West Coast at the end of the month. This was the third party I'd been to in a week and I was beginning to wonder if the fucker was ever going to move. At least the booze and the feedbag were free.

“Seriously, though,” I continued, “I bet I could sell worn women's panties over the Internet and clean up. I could probably even grease a few and charge extra. You've never seen the ads?”

Davey shook his head and took a long drink of beer.

“I've seen 'em,” said Lyzako. “They ship 'em in a zip-lock bag to ensure freshness.”

Davey laughed and foam came out of his nose. “Smells like taint!” he gurgled when he'd recovered.

“How much different could it smell?” I said. “Ass crack sweat must pretty much all smell the same, right? I'd just wear 'em to work. I could probably wear three pairs at a time. That's twenty-five bucks a crack!”

“Hah, hah, crack!” said Lyzako.

“I might even get more for the inner most pair,” I said. “I saw an article somewhere where a girl told how she made money like this and even sold her toenail clippings to guys. No shit.”

“Smells like taint!” said Davey.

“All I really have to do is find a couple of hot photos of young chicks on the web. I wouldn't even have to show their faces, just asses in underwear.”

“And there's always the M.I.L.F. market,” said Lyzako.

“I think it's probably mostly older guys buying young chicks' underwear, but who knows?” I said. “Maybe I could even sell worn bras.”

“Can you imagine?” said Lyzako. “You get into a car wreck on the way home from work and they take you to the emergency room and you're wearing three pairs of panties and two bras!”

“And I've got a tampon shoved up my ass!” I cried. “That's gotta be worth fifty bucks!”

“Smells like taint!” said Davey.

“Hah, hah, ha...hack-kaff!”