Warning: only read this post if you understand sarcasm.
Disclaimer: i am in not segregating the sarcasm-literate from the sarcasm-illiterate. I do not have a son. bitches in this post do not refer to female dogs. Bitches in this post refers to a creature… a half-bear, half-pig, one-quarter chicken… yes, let’s go with that.
Suggestion: this post is best read with a warm cup of chocolate, on a not sunny day, after taking a good dump.
Now, back to the topic, son? Where do you put it that’s easiest to get to… your bedside cupboard? Your wallet? It’s all about easy location oh! Your report, that is… you don’t want her waiting on the bed whilst you get a hammer to start checking in the roof.
In the throes of passion, you munching at her mouth like it were an orange, your guardian angel shaking his head in disappointment; when mid-gasp she asks, “uhnnn… i like that… uhnn… what’s your HIV status? Uhnnn… Let me see the doctor’s report… uhhnn.. uhnnn…”
Why will she ask at that time you ask… because bitches be all shades of crazy! And bitches, might also want to live long in the land… don’t ask me why?
Truthfully, I, too, wonder why she would ask such a question of you; young,hefty specimen that you are. I’m sure you can leap of moving bike and only end up in a psychiatric hospital… what will AIDS be looking for in your well-sculpted abs? As I said before, bitches be crazy. How dare she think of her future at such a time?! I mean, she doesn’t HAVE to live to see any grand-kid or even desire to not die coughing up blood in some hospital Or end up a skeleton in an open casket?! Bitches these days though, always putting their needs first…
YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX NOW! NOW! NOW!
If only HIV/ AIDS was more considerate… maybe turned your eyes purple or gave you a golf-ball sized pimple on your cheek or an “UNCLEAN” encryption on your forehead. Who’ll need stupid tests then?! That’ll be awesome?!
Too bad it didn’t.
Get tested today.Spread love, not the virus.