BOB JOHNSON RIDES AGAIN! 319

319. NAVAL GAZING

319. NAVAL GAZING

Bob had never had his inseams seen to so thoroughly before he met Thomasina, even though he had yet to learn what an inseam was, or why it mattered so much. All he really knew was that he hoped he would have his inseam seen to again in the same manner, and with the same proficiency as exhibited by Thomasina, before he either died or was accidentally married–whichever came first.

“You re living proof, Bob, of what I’ve been saying all my life,” Thomasina told him, as they snuggled up together in Thomasina’s big king-sized bed which, somewhat to Bob’s surprise, wasn’t a foldable aluminum army cot that she kept in the garage. “A used tux can make any man look as appealing as a Latin lover in tight pants, such as the former love of my life, the now deceased (from excessive love-making), flamenco dance instructor, Jorge Valente of Pismo Beach. Now I know it’s uncomfortable to wear in bed while I’m examining (and seeing to ) your inseam, but you better get used to it, baby, if you want to ride the range with this little filly. Speaking of myself, I should probably tell you a few things about myself–since I know all I need to know about you after following your exploits on Substack. I was born in Guadalajara to a Jewish dad and a Sikh MOM, and spent every single family holiday of my life listening to my parents argue about decorations and religious services. I joined the Marines as a pastry chef, the Navy as a dance instructor, the Air Force as a bespoke couturier, and then I went back to the Navy again as an advanced dance instructor, which is where I met Jorge. We loved each other too much to own one another, and when he moved to the central coast to be close to his many local lovers, I went back to the Navy again and danced every night until I cried in the arms of some hot looking Naval academy graduates–boy, were those the days! Okay, Bob, just the thought of all those young handsome men in uniform makes me want to see to your inseam again, so hang tight in that used tux of yours! If I hear the pop of a single button or the hiss of a single zipper–it’s back to the garage for you!”

Bob Johnson had never been so confused–he didn’t even know a used tux had buttons and zippers!