I’m sitting by the pool with a friend. We’re talking condoms. We discuss the fact that Trojan are slimy and smelly. Seriously, haven’t you ever noticed that about Trojan?
So, this leads to a discovered similarity…we both prefer Durex for that pregnancy protection. We both like the Pleasure Pack. Nice assortment. And no, I didn’t get paid for that plug.
Somehow. Someway. This conversation led to…
My roommate was the size of a munchkin. But skinnier. Because, if you’ve paid attention, Munchkins were kind of stocky. No offense to the people of Munchkinland.
She had this boyfriend. Tall. Skinny. Nice looking. Schmitty was his name. No, I’m not kidding. OK, fine. It was his nickname but whatever.
My other roommate and I were sitting in the lounge part of our suite. Watching television. Smoking Marlboro lights. Minding our own business, while trying to ignore all the noises coming from behind those closed doors over there.
Suddenly. The door bursts open. And Schmitty saunters out of the room, donning nothing but a pair of Garfield boxer shorts and a huge shit-eating grin.
He raises his arms over his head in a stretching exercise.
But my roomie and I. We both, at the same time. Were drawn to something that had spilled out of the leg of his boxer shorts.
That’s when we both realized.
Trojan was right on when they came out with Magnum condoms.
But how in the hell did that thing fit in a Munchkin?