533 - Tie Down Here


"Nice tattoo," you say to the girl undressing in front of you, referring to the blue arrow pointing to a row of piercings labeled "TIE DOWN HERE" on her back. "You must be into some kinky stuff."

"No, not really," she counters "I just have like, super bad gas."

You let out a slight chuckle. When she doesn't respond in kind, your smile fades quickly to a slack-jawed expression of confusion. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah," she continues, "and my body, like, never learned how to fart or whatever? So it just builds up in there. And then my body does this weird thing where it turns all the gas into helium, so if I fall asleep or pass out or whatever and I haven't used my gas vent in a while I might float away."

"How the hell did that happen?" you ask.

"Oh, I don't know. My parents said something about me being a, like, Churn Opal baby or something. Whatever that means. I think it's Polish. Ready to have sex?"

You're a little grossed out, but when will you ever have another chance to bed a Chernobyl baby?  You'll just have to get screened for radiation at the clinic in the morning.