Folks, a terribly horrible thing happened to me a few weeks ago. It’s not totally my fault but I have to claim 80% of what happened. No. Make that 75%.
You see, I’m a big fan of herbal teas. I like all I’ve ever tried and I’ve tried a bunch. When I returned from Saudi Arabia three months ago, I had to list my perishables and whatnots. Well, I’m gonna tell you and don’t you run back telling anybody, but I didn’t tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God. I didn’t want to. I figure if they really did their job like they were hired to do, they’d spot everything I had that I shouldn’t have had.
Now, I told them I had hibiscus tea in tow. I was real honest about that. Hell, it was just tea. The leaves, that is. I’ve got myself the real deal, folks and loads of it too. What I didn’t tell them about or write on the customs form was this little jar of sand I had. It’s not my fault I got it. It’s Carl’s. Had he never told me about his friend who caught the devil getting his sand jars back to the states from the middle east, I probably wouldn’t have gotten it in my head to snuggle some over myself. And naturally, since he said his friend got the shakedown over some damn dirt, I didn’t tell customs about mine. Uh uh, folks. I kept my mouth shut and eased outta the airport like a smooth criminal, right proud of myself, I might add. You may wanna report that those airport folk aren’t fully doing their job but don’t you dare mention my name. I can’t be sitting in the big house on account of no dumb shit. Okay?
Well, as for my tea, I’ve been drinking plenty. I’m sorry but it’s been a one-person tea party thus far. Should you ever stop by, I’m just gonna be honest with you, folks. You can’t have nona my hibiscus tea but I’d be more than delighted to share that stuff in the tea bags. It ain’t like you’re too good for tea bags, so don’t start complaining now.
Anyway, for being selfish with my hibiscus, and I ain’t changing my mind on sharing regardless, Little Totsy was giving me a hot muga tea while I was lying down and the shit burned my chest. Lordy mercy, I don’t wanna see hell ’cause that was some awful hot! I started thinking I was scarred for life but I’m on a fine road to recovery. It looks more like a birthmark since it’s not red anymore, although I liked my cleavage the way it was before the tea party. The damnest things have happened to me since I met up with you folks. I feel like I can tell you anything, in a kinda-sorta way. Know what I mean? But I probably won’t. We’re doing good the way we’re going. And since we’re being all open and honest and whatnot, you’d do well to not tell me some things about yourself too. We’re gonna keep keeping it real without getting totally naked and wind up divorcing each other (wink, wink).