I hope you realise my imagination is going to fill in the blanks, yes ;)?
So, a dare. Write a poem expressing your deep passion for… um… Margaret Thatcher. At least fourteen lines long. Sonnets are traditional for that sort of thing, I hear, but pick any scheme you like.
Okay, I’m back. Got my wine, got my Telemann, ready-o.
I was staying the night at my friend’s house. Her sister was staying over too. Her sister was way cute. The sister and I ended up together in the guest bed much later that evening. We were pretty tanked (whoo, Cliche Central). We just sort of fell into rolling around on the bed and kissing each other. We disrobed above the waist and had a good time. It was funny; I kind of developed a little crush on her, but the next morning, after she’d sobered up, she never said a word. So neither did I.
If you had to pick one celebrity to make whoopee with, as the Newlywed Game used to euphemistically say, who would it be? Catch: you’ve got to pick someone at least 20 years older or younger than you are.
I like the confessional letter Dare theme, so yours must explain to your very irate neighbor what you were doing when he found you last night looking in his bedroom window while his wife was in there doing her jazzercise.
Someone ask me a goshdarn truth
I can’t think of anything good that rhymes with truth
but I need to post more
so i can settle the score
and i no longer know what I’m talking about!
Trout!
In one of those weird situations that arise in TruthOrDare World, you absolutely have to make out with a family member - some blood relation. You must swap spit for at least a minute of genuine make-out magic.
Oho! I have you there, my fine fellow! It just so happens that I was adopted. I know I have siblings somewhere, but I don’t know who they are. Therefore I believe, sir, that your quest for Truth in this particular case is null and, if I do say so, void.
(But I will say that I always wanted an older brother for just that purpose. Yes, I reckon I have issues…!)
I must sincerely apologise for what must seem to you as a disgusting act. I only ask, however, that you listen to my explanation before you call the police.
I was merely returning your punch bowl which you ( so very kindly!) lent us for the barbequeue. However, as I walked around to your house, I saw a ladder up against the wall, and the window wide open. Thinking that it might be a burglar, I thought I might move the ladder out of the way so he would be trapped. As I was doing this, however, I heard your wife inside, and she sounded like she might be i trouble! Hastily, I set the ladder back up again, and climbed it to go to her rescue. When I arrived at the window, though, I saw your wife merely in the middle of exercising, and her paniced moaning was in fact just from her exertations. As I was considering making my prescence known, or whether to climb back down, you appeared around the corner and saw me, and so your idea of what happened came about.
I apologise wholeheartedly for what you thought happened. I’m also sorry that, when I was startled by your shouting, I fumbled the punch bowl and dropped in on your head, necessetating your going to the hospital, and causing you to fall on your vintage guitar, with which you were planning on serenading your wife.
As a way of apologising, I invite you to come around to ours to watch a game and have a beer or two as soon as you get out of hospital and are allowed to drink again.