Several years ago, I had the one crazy-assed roommate. Not crazy in the sense that she was over the top and fun to be around (y'know, like me), but crazy in that I had to be woken up every morning to blow into that thing they put in cars to make sure your BAC is zero before it'll turn on (yeah, THAT kept her from tossin' down any alcohol in sight. Pfft. Worked REAL good.) Yeah, no, she wasn't fun crazy-- she was crazy in that I had to return the ketchup to its rightful spot on the door of the refrigerator or I'd get a sticky note reminding me of where it's home really was. Apparently, ketchup should not live next to the mayo, because of racial tensions. It's supposed to be next to the mustards- as they've (apparently) had diplomatic relations for years.
Anyway. I have the crazy fucking roommate. Or did. And she came home one morning still drunk from the night before, dragging some dude behind her like a puppy on a leash. And, shockingly, looking at him didn't make me wanna vomit- dude wasn't half-bad. So she pulls his happy "oooh..I'm-about-to-get-laid!" smiley ass up the stairs to her bedroom. Well, I ain't one to judge. Hell, I've had my fair share of one-nighters, so who am I to say anything about that? An hour or two later, he comes back down the stairs, clearly having shot his wad all over the fucking place (I think maybe some of it made its way down the stairs and into the kitchen, but anyhoo). This dude is clearly happy, and also tired-- apparently Roommate can fuck like a champ. Lucky for him, this time she didn't follow him back down the stairs, babbling about useless nonsense. Instead, she opted to pass the fuck OUT, after kicking his ASS out. So, he left, thrilled to have banged a crazy chick and then not have to snuggle afterwards-- every man's dream come true.
Later that day, Said Roommate stayed in her room till the afternoon, and finally managed to fall her way down the stairs, smelling like a transient who just polished off a bottle of bourbon. Gross. (How that dude managed to get off in that vagina is beyond me.) She looked at me all bleary eyed and said "wanna go outside for a smoke? I've got something to show you." Well, hell. Sure. Of course I'll have a smoke with you, especially if you're going to tell me about how that decent looking dude found you attractive enough to fuck.
So, we go outside, light up a smoke, and she starts pulling her shorts up her leg, like allll the way up her leg. (AACCCKK!!! What's going on here??! What the FUCK is she going to show me???) And there it is: this completely disgusting, I don't know, THING on her inner thigh, right next to her vagina. About two inches in length and maybe a half inch wide, the thing was flaming red and if it had a mouth, it'd be SCREAMING. I looked at her, marginally alarmed and said "Oh my god! What did that guy DO to you?? Or, worse yet, what did that guy GIVE to you??" She, still slurring after a good 8 hours of no intake of alcohol, said "nnnno... HE didn't doo that tooo meee. No. He couldn't mmmake mme cum, so afffter he left, I jammed my vibrator up my vag. But, um, I passed out with it in there....
While it was still on...
And when I woke up, it was burning me.
Batterrrries... leaking... burning...OWWW..."
Wait, what? You're telling me that you passed out with a vibrator in your lady bits, with it ON? And you got an acid burn from the BATTERIES? Right next to your snatch?? Seriously? Are you fucking KIDDING ME? What?? A.Who the fuck does that? and B.When does that shit EVER happen?
And clearly, she's looking to me for answers, but I don't have any. I've never been burned by my Rabbit. Or passed out with it inside me, for that matter. So I suggest she call the emergency room and see what she should do. But nope, no fucking way is she calling the hospital- she's too drunk and embarrassed to call them. So me, being the caring gentlewoman that I am, I offer to call for her. She concedes.
So I call the fucking emergency room and I try straight facing the whole story. I almost make it all the way through, till I started hearing the nurse struggling really hard not to laugh. I had to pinky AND toe swear that this was, in fact, a true story and that now my roommate did, in fact, have a rather large, nasty acid burn within crawling distance from her pink parts. Once I got her to believe me, she told me to make sure it didn't get near water (because that will spread it). She tells me to just watch it, and keep checking on it for the next few hours to make sure it doesn't get any worse, because that can happen with acid burns. So I said "Let me get this clear. You want me to basically put my face all up in that shit and carefully make sure that it isn't getting worse?? And she can't WASH it first?? You know what that clam sandwich has been DOING all night? Really? That's fucking grosss! What if I smell her vagina?? What if I can smell her SEX VAGINA? IF I SMELL HER SEX VAGINA, I'M GONNA PUKE MY WAY ALL OVER THAT FUCKING THING!" Nurse told me to quit being a pansy and get my head up in there and check it.
Sigh.
So I did.
And in the meantime, the roommate and I decided we were hungry, so we ordered some pizza for delivery. While we were waiting, I had to put my big girl panties on once again and get all up in that shit, carefully making sure that burn wasn't making it's way further towards the promised land (more like a definite, you're-getting-laid land, but whatever). And wouldn't you know it? As I've got my face about 2 inches from her fucking sex crotch, the doorbell rings and we both look up to see a teenaged boy, holding a pizza with a look of surprise, awe and hope in his eyes.
I think he skipped the whole way back to the car.
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