7/06/2012

Lucky She Didn't Smell Your Armpit

Story Sent in by Dwight:

On my first date with Barbara, she tilted her head close to me as we walked, which I first mistook for a sign of affection. She asked, "How does my head smell?"

I sniffed. It smelled like floral shampoo, so I said, "It smells very nice. Whatever shampoo you're using, it's great."

She didn't say anything to that, and we kept walking in silence. In the spirit of fun and conversation, I asked her, "How does my head smell?"

I tilted it down for her and she sniffed it.

"Purrruuuughhh!" she exclaimed and stepped back haltingly until she hit a nearby brick building. "What died on your head?"

For the record, I had washed my hair with shampoo and conditioner before going out. This might have been the first time that anyone specifically set out to smell my head on a date, but I had been close enough to women before such that they were within easy head-smelling distance, and this was the first complaint I had received.

"Oh God!" she went on, almost in hysterics, "I still have its taste in my mouth!"

My hair was never in her mouth! She ran to a nearby convenience store and I followed her in, hoping that it was a joke, or that maybe I could do something... I don't know. She grabbed a can of ginger ale, opened it, and downed it right there, in the store.

"Ahhh," she said, "I never want to smell your head again."

Any desire for a date with Barbara was done, on my part. Surprisingly, she then asked, "Ready for dinner?" as if nothing at all strange had just happened.

I said, "I wouldn't want you to have to smell my head again, so we should call it a night."

She shook her head. "No! No, we can still go out, just sit, you know, far away from me. We can find a place that has long tables. Like an Indian place or whatever."

"Have a good night, Barbara."

I walked back to my car, but she followed me there, pleading that "we can still have a nice time," and "it'll be fun," and "just keep your head pointed away from me," and so on.

It wasn't until the next morning that I realized that she didn't pay for that ginger ale.

4 comments:

  1. ...and it wasn't until the morning after that that I found the dead badger in my hair.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Women? Pay? Aww, how quaint!

    ReplyDelete

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