Carl’s Obsession

Anastasia, I can’t stop thinking about sex. I’m obsessed!

Maybe I can distract you, Carl.

How about we talk about fun websites?

All I can think of is a nerd humping a laptop.

We could talk about… boats?

Sailors buggering each other. Like, really happily and enthusiastically.

Poker?

Strip poker.

Tea?

Tea bagging.

Kittens?

Sex kittens.

Sesame Street?

Grouches fucking.

Nature?

Again, grouches fucking.

Two nasty nuns?

That’s the name of the last porno I watched.

The library!

Change the subject.

What about… kissing?

Kissing? Whoa… I… I’ve got nothing! I think I can focus a little bit. Keep going!

A wiener points to the floor and then it points to the ceiling?

I… I gotta do laundry today.

How about… grouches?

Oh shit! What time is it? I was supposed to pick up Grandma from the dog track!

Parted lips and warm thighs?

I… I remember creating a dance called “The Carl” in high school. The dance wasn’t popular, but getting my ass kicked was.