There was a woman of about 50 years old, dark skin weathered by the sun, in the aisle looking over the toilet paper, trying to decide which offered the best ass wiping for the best price. I stood a few feet away trying to make the same decision, but the options were just too many--- so I thought I would ask the woman for advice. Instead this came out of my mouth, without my knowing it would: “Golly, I wish I were a dog. That way instead of having to buy toilet paper, I could just drag my poop-rimmed ass on the carpet. Think of the money that would save!” A flirt. I was flirting. This is
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