Complete the following story: “I once insulted a hooker in a dark alley, and then…”
If there was already a thread on this, I apologize.
Using my free bump.
276 views and not one of them by Autolycus? I’m beginning to think that we’ll never hear what is undoubtedly a very amusing story.
Or really skeery.
And I’m wondering what he was doing in the dark alley to begin with! :eek:
My nightmare is that the sentence is going to end with “yadda, yadda, yadda…and then sha paid me!”
Your thread title might be a bit confrontational sounding.
He’s been posting elsewhere this morning, so I’m going to go ahead and assume that it involved various foreign object insertions. By the hooker, but not on the hooker. And possibly calling out the name of Barry Manilow.
I mean, that’s not a story I’d want to relate.
The Barry Manilow part becomes relevant if the hooker’s name was “Mandy”.
Wait, who’s calling out The Manilow? The hooker or Auto?
Well, maybe he read the thread but didn’t feel like posting in it.
Oh. Right. Never mind.
I’m guessing said insulted hooker hunted him down and impaled him on a ladle. It could be true.
According to Auto, it was a ladel. That surely makes all the difference!
Main Entry: 1la·dle
Pronunciation: 'lA-d&l
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English ladel, from Old English hlædel, from hladan
1 : a deep-bowled long-handled spoon used especially for dipping up and conveying liquids
I’ll be damned if I didn’t just read that as deep boweled. Know who to blame for that one.
Since he hasn’t come in here yet to tell the true tale, I guess it’s up to us to fill in the details as we would like to imagine them.
“So there I was, walking the streets of New York at two in the morning. The quickest way to the soup orgy was through a dark alley. There was a hooker there. ‘Hey baby, want a date?’ she asked. She was damn hot. Perfect in every way, except she had a tiny zit on her forehead. ‘Sorry, bitch, you have a tiny zit on your forehead. Ain’t worth the five bucks you’re asking.’ That pissed her off. She whistled, and suddenly I was surrounded by 73 naked hobbits wielding cute little handaxes. The looked at me menacingly, then they danced. I was grooving to the music, so I danced too. But I was a bit clumsy, and stubbed my big toe. And I missed the soup orgy. Man, I’ll never do that again!”
Hee!
That always reminds me of when I was a teenager, and my best friend would create scenarios for whatever reason about romantically meeting her crush somewhere, write little stories about it, and often bounce ideas off of me. One day she asks me, dreamily, “What would you do if you met [whoever my current crush was] in a dark alley?” Without missing a beat, I responded, “I’d take out my knife and stab him to death.” Laughing, she asked me why I’d said that. “Isn’t that what happens in dark alleys?” I asked.
I mean, really. 
tdn - I don’t care if we never see Autolycus in this thread, because no reality is going to top your version of events. 
Glad you liked my story. 
I left out the part about the neon butterflies with boxing gloves, because I didn’t want it to get… you know, surreal.
Did you PM him?
In retaliation she assaulted me with a ladle.
Are you kidding!? Have you ever read any of Auto’s posts?
Enough to know I like tdn’s version better. It’s… safer. 
Well, note the word “reality” in Anastasaeon’s post…