The Middle Of The Night Wake Up Call

[3am. You awaken from a deep. drunken slumber.]

You: Mmm, what? Where am I? What time is it?
Her: You’re at home. It’s 3 in the morning. Go back to sleep.
You: Christ, why did I wake up? I dreamt I was scuba diving with the British actress slash model Liz Hurley in the majestic Bahamas, and yet I don’t even have a semi or anything and – hold on a minute… why does my back feel so funny?
Her: What do you mean?
You: It feels almost like… wait, were you… sigh. Were you trying to pop my pimples again?
Her: …
You: You were, weren’t you?
Her: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
You: We’ve discussed this before, it’s weird and I don’t feel comfortable with you doing that whilst I sleep.
Her: But they wanted to be pressed out.
You: Oh, they told you that, did they? Did they send you a postcard? Maybe an email? Or did you read it on their Facebook profile?
Her: I was bored and I couldn’t sleep.
You: So you decided to scar me?
Her: You will thank me in the morning.
You: So let me get this straight. You’re willing to pop my back acne, but you refuse to touch my feet?
Her: Your feet are huge. They scare me.
You: You are strange. And your behaviour frightens me a little. Are you going to sleep now?
Her: I’ll try. Good night.
You: Good night.
[silence]
You: One more thing, why does there appear to be a warm banana wedged between my thighs?

[Moral of the story: None really. But it's probably a good idea to leave bananas off the grocery list for a while, as shit like this could happen at any time.]

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