Rock Paper Scissors

6 Dec

Let us travel back in time again to my senior year of college.  One night, I attended a house party deep in central Missouri with a few of my friends.  A girl I was with was dating a tenant of this house, and he lived with a slew of other young men.  I had my eye on one in particular.  His name was Bolten and he had a huge lightening bolt tattooed across his back.  Right up my alley.

Much of the usual college tomfoolery transpired at the party, but my favorite was a little game called Strip Rock Paper Scissors (I may or may not have introduced this game to the undergraduate population at my school).  A select group of partygoers hid upstairs in one of the guy’s rooms where we locked the door and began to play.  The boys were almost naked, Bolten bare-assed on his roommate’s desk chair, but my friend and I still had on our bras and jeans (we were old pros at SRPS).  All of a sudden we heard frantic knocking and shouting coming from the hallway, “GET THE F&%# OUT OF MY ROOM!”  The angry roommate karate-kicked the door in and screamed at us to leave at once.  It was later revealed to me that he was an extreme germaphobe with OCD.  That desk chair was never sat on again.

Bolten asked me out a few days later and we kissed under the awning of a used video game store.  He had a huge fro of curly black hair, giant blue eyes, the kind of lips that always look wet, and a penchant for optical illusion shirts.  At some point, he accompanied me back to my apartment and we made out on my bed.  Before anything else could happen, he said he had something he needed to tell me… “I might… uh… have one or two… umm… TINY……… warts.”   I leapt from my bed like it was on fire and he said he was going to go.  I had never met anyone with an STD before and I wasn’t about to scrutinize his Johnson under a microscope like that science class where I had to scoop around in a pond and then examine its scum.

Actually, that’s not true– I had met someone else with an STD.  My freshman year suite-mate had announced to me on move-in day that she had genital herpes and that we would be fine sharing a toilet… as long as she didn’t decide to use my soap in the shower.  She also said that I would know when she was having an outbreak because she would be in her room laying naked and spread-eagle for days.  I petitioned for a new roommate to no avail, so I ended up just removing everything that was mine from the shower each time I bathed.  I didn’t have much room for my stuff in the bathroom anyway, as she kept a lifetime supply of Sweet Love Douches lined up on the shelves.  I’m not kidding.  She was from Arkansas and was dating a dwarf with beads in his beard, and the only reason she went to college was to get away from her mother… who was having a lesbian affair with her (my suite mate’s) best friend.  She dropped out at the end of the semester and I moved off-campus.

Anyway.  I had mixed feelings about Bolten.  On one hand, it was very mature and respectable that he had told me about his genital warts.  On the other hand, I was in a glam R&B group called ChoCha with three of my friends, and it was PERFECT material for my next hit song.  Here are the lyrics:

Please Leave On the Shorts, If You Got the Warts

Please leave on the shorts if you got the warts
Please leave on the shorts if you got the warts

You may speak Spanish, you may have a tattoo
But there’s a better reason why I won’t get with you
Loungin’ in the desk chair completely nude
I’m starting to think you’re a real super dude
The lights are low, you’re covered in hair
And of your ailment I’m not yet aware.


Just found out your mother dresses you
But it’s still not enough to keep me from you, boo
(Spoken) “YET!”
I still like your hair, I have no fears
Until you stole my friend’s QTips to clean out your ears
You made me spoon, you forgot to take Prozac
Player, get your own masseuse cuz I ain’t gonna scratch yo back!


Just burned my sheets, had to buy a new cover
When I found out about your warts you couldn’t be my lover
Somewhere in your seven you got a disease
But unlike ingrown hairs, that shit lasts eternities


(Spoken) “You might wanna wash your hands after this…”

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