Yucko McFucko

I have this guy I thought I got rid of. It’s been a gloriously silent two months.

Then, he resurfaced. Eight times in two days.

I made the mistake of not launching a missile toward his house.

He said to me, “Time just FLIES when we’re talking!”

I said, “For whom?”

He thinks I’m hilarious.

I call him Yucko McFucko. Because I get such a colossal HUZ when he’s on the prowl.

Maybe I’m no prize either. But damn. Is it so wrong that I’m holding out for my Chip Esten … or Jon Bon Jovi … or Kip Winger … or an adventure as the creamy center in a Jake Owen/Luke Bryan sammich?

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