This bull dyke I met one December didn’t like the cut of my jib and so invited me to a Christmas luncheon at the Improperly Rogered Cow to discuss my deficiencies over a beef-flap sandwich and a warm cup of whiskey-infused punch.

At said luncheon, she claimed I had a fanciful and twisted view of her and those of her persuasion and demeanor.

I vigorously protested this accusation.

She insisted that my only interest in the subject involved ‘porno lesbians’ and not the factual lesbian of the real world.

I again protested and proclaimed my innocence, stating that I had nothing but respect for any being that could survive this Earth relying on nothing more than short hair, loud opinions and all the Sour Rascal that one can eat.

Some time later, I regained consciousness and when she determined me to be lucid enough, she explained to me that this was how we learned as a species and that this was a life-lesson for me personally and that, assuredly, I was a richer and wiser person for the experience.

I remember saying something about how the afternoon had actually been a colossal waste of time and I should probably just throw my cock over my shoulder and head home.

There is a two or three day gap in my memory after that moment.

A few years later I saw a woman on the street who bore a striking resemblance to my lesbian attacker, or educator, if you will, and she was wearing a rather tight T-Shirt stretched across her ample bosom on which was printed the phrase, ‘Got Sour Rascal?’ and beneath that, in a smaller font, it said, ‘Propter and Lichter Medical Supply Company, for all your gynecological needs’, and I thought back to that luncheon on that earlier afternoon and the memory made me smile and I didn’t know why.

Still don’t.