CONDOMS

I took advantage of this glorious--some might say "gorgeous" if it were part of the title--morning and walked through the college campus--the vast lawns neatly manicured--to Las Cazuelitas for a carne guisada breakfast tortilla. 

The restaurant--an upscale greasy spoon--specializes in home cooking, evoking the meals the ex-mother--in--law--May God rest her soul--used to prepare. 

After consuming my unpretentious repast washed down with two cups of coffee, I strolled to a nearby convenience store and bought a pack of condoms. 

They come in threes and cost me seven dollars. As any baseball manager will insist, you have to have a pinch hitter or a relief pitcher ready for emergency situations. 

There was a wide variety of selections--Must be a lot of cautions fucking keeping Brownsville in a relaxed frame of mind--and I chose Magnum Bareskin, lubricated, extra thin and a Trojan product. 

Trojan has existed since I was an adolescent. I used to masturbate into them in order to get accustomed to the feel and they provided scenarios for my imagination. 

I practice mostly unprotected sex these days because the women I know are only interested in cheating on their husbands with one man. 

They have principles. Praise the Lord. I assume they are clean and our relationships don't go beyond morning amusements or afternoon delights. 

I returned to my apartment meditating the entire distance. 

If you can't find nirvana on a day like this, then you are condemned to being reincarnated as a hungry ghost according to the Buddha and I trust his knowledge above anyone else's. 

Once home, I cut and filed my fingernails. Afterwards, I washed them with alcohol. I've done my part, baby. 

Now you need to get your sweet ass over here. I'm horny as hell, but there will be no salvation for me if you don't provide me with your golden chalice.

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