Micheal J. Banks

DISASTER DATE #1: Fiery First Date

DISASTER DATE #1: Fiery First Date

I matched with a troublesome Tinderella who seemed to only have one thing on her mind.. to get down and dirty from the get-go. Our schedules weren’t syncing up, so the only time we were both free to do it was 9 o’clock on a Tuesday morning. I did my best to create a bit of an ambiance for her coming over, so I turned on some sexy music and lit a whopper Yankee candle.

She arrived 20 minutes past the hour, with big sleepy heads on the two of us when I opened the door. So I stuck on the kettle, double espresso for myself and the milkiest of teas for herself.

Before my coffee could even cool down enough to take the first sip I glanced up to see her downing the cup of tea like a Jägerbomb. “Jesus Christ.. you’re thirsty aren’t ye ?!”. She just gave me the bedroom eyes, strutted over to me, dropped to her knees, pulled down my shorts, and let’s just say she wasn’t saying her morning prayers.

Next thing I knew we were going at it on the kitchen table. There I am going like a Duracell bunny after a can of Red Bull, with me eyes up to the heavens.

When all of a sudden, I smell something burning.. and I thought to myself ‘What in the name of Jayziz could that be’. So I looked down to see if it was from all of the ferocious friction but no.. Her long luscious locks were draped over the double wick Yankee candle smouldering.

“Oh F*ck”, I shouted! Little did she know I wasn’t shouting with pleasure as her eyes were half shut and rolling back, thankfully. I didn’t want to alarm her so I just leaned forward to lift her hair off of the candle but as I did.. POOF! Her hair went up in flames. I must have been giving a top-class performance because she didn’t even notice.

I played it cool, started to kiss her neck, and smacked the shite out of the fire. I started screaming.. “F*ck F*ck *F*ck”, then so did she.. “Yes Yes Yes” but both for very different reasons to say the least.

I courageously extinguished the fire and slid the poxy candle away along with a chunk of her hair. She looked up to see the sweat pumping from my forehead as I was gasping for breath, in dire need of a drag from me inhaler. Probably thinking to herself ‘For f*ck sake, would ye look at the head on him, drippin’ sweat all over me’. I ‘passionately’ dragged her into the next room so we could finish up without her noticing the chunk of missing singed hair left on the kitchen table.

I’d be lying if I said that was the last time we met up, but it was certainly the last time I’ll ever light a Yankee candle to set the mood.

— ‘Fireman Sam’ (Anonymous Dubliner)



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