you just gotta lick it

lane and i have this odd flirty thing going on. lane’s been married for roughly 100 years and he’s so in love with his wife it’s an amazing thing to see. lane’s one of my most favorite friday night bowlers. he calls bud light’s “Tasty’s,” he wears an old skool minnesota north stars hat and his best friend is called opie. lane’s eldest son is dreadfully ill. he’s got cancer and it’s really serious.

anyway, lane and i have this odd flirty thing. it happened purely by accident two years ago. it’s my fault. sister #3 claims i seduced him, but really i am just a big, dumb moron whose mouth goes much faster than her brain.

see, i have a superman tattoo on my chest. it’s located in the cleavageal area of my chest. when i wear certain shirts, superman is reveal. about two years ago sister #3 and i were working at the bowling alley, lane came up to get two tastys and pulled down the neck of his shirt.

“what’s that?” he asked.
“a tattoo,” i said.
“of what?”
“no way! is that real?”
“no, it’s fake. you just have to lick it. . . it’ll come off.”

stunned silence from all parties involved.

i blushed, lane blushed and sister #3 roared with laughter. now whenever i talk of lane sister #3 sorta shakes her chest and says, “you. . . just . . . gotta . . . lick. . . it.” and i blush like a madwoman.

tonight lane came up to get some tastys.

“my wife’s outta town this weekend,” he said.
“oh, ok,” i replied.
“what are you doing this weekend.”

i busted out laughing.

“hey guys! i got her to smile. i win!”
i laugh harder.
“you just won me three dollars.”
i love my friday night guys.

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