Diary Of Mr. Diesel
It was an overcast day in New York City. My alarm scares me awake. I jump out of bed, grab my towel, and stumble over to the shower. Little did I know that this would be the most sexually adventurous day of my life.
Hold on. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me give tell you a little backstory. The name’s Vin. I’m well built—6’4”, 225 lbs of pure muscle, and I’m hung like a Argentinian Lape Duck—which has the largest schlong to body ratio of any animal. I am often mistaken for Dolph Lundgren. I never had much success with women through high school, but my grandmother thinks I’m very handsome, so things are looking up.
I hurried out the door to get to work at the library. I try to keep my head up on the way to work, smiling at the strangers as they pass me by–unless I think they could beat me up, then I check my phone in hopes that someone has favorited/retweeted my very hilarious tweets I spend a lot of time trying to word correctly. They haven’t. But that’s neither here nor there. In fact, it’s at the library, where I glide through the revolving door and take a seat at the circulation desk.
Then I see her. Her beautiful smile takes me by surprise and I lose myself in her eyes; crystal blue like the Caribbean sea. She also has huge bazongas.
“Hi, I’m looking for a book,” she giggles.
“Then the library is a pretty good place to start!” I smirk, leaning forward awkwardly. “Maybe I can be of some assistance,” I chuckle, trying to seem suave and cool. “Do you know the call number of the book you’re looking for?” She bites her lip and leans across the desk. We kiss. Passionately.
“I think it starts with 69...” she giggles. She leans back across, and we passionately kiss. I lean away, and she gasps for breath. I whisper tenderly in her ear:
“Listen, I really enjoyed that and all, but I think you might be a bit confused. We don’t use the Dewey Decimal System in this library, so it probably doesn’t start with 69. With the Library of Congress System, the call number will start with two letters that will likely refer to the subject matter.” She flashes me a sultry glance and grins.
“So, what if it started with U and I?” she says, undoing the top button of her blouse. She leans across the desk and heavily sighs into my ear, nibbling on my earlobe.
“Well, that doesn’t really make sense. The U letter refers to Military Science. For example, UD refers to infantry sciences, UF refers to Artillery. This system only goes up to UH--other services,” I whisper back tenderly, also casually nibbling her ear lobe. I’m just trying to go with the flow.
“Ow, stop biting my ear!” she coos. She leans back away. “Listen. Do you want to do this or no? I can’t hold back my feelings for you any more. I’ve been following you on Twitter, and you are very hilarious and it seems like you spend a lot of time trying to get the right wording, and I really appreciate that, Vin.”
“Oh definitely. I find you very attractive. But like, the subject heading UI doesn’t really make sense. Do you get that?” I ask.
She sighs, then walks away. I notice a small box left on the counter and open it.
A phone number is wrapped in a red satin thong, very damp.