from Flirts in Skirts

Scene: the bathroom under a chap’s bed.

Jed: My trousers have acquired a dreadful disease.
Bud: Of a sexually transported nature?
Jed: Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Bud: Well, that’s very Elizabethan. Or Romantic. Or even Victorian. Perhaps it’s also Postmodern, come to think of it.
Jed: I transcend historical and aesthetic periods.
Bud: Sexually transported diseases, it goes without saying , are the invention of Satan. He invented them to put a dash of fear and restraint into the otherwise fun pastime of coitus.
Jed: At least it’s only my trousers.
Bud: For now. It will spread unless you take the appropriate action. I suppose Betty is to blame.
Jed: It could be Betty. Or Lorraine. Or Coco. Or Beatrice. Or Suki. Or Chantelle. Or the Anderson twins.
Bud: You are a man rabbit.

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