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.]

Shaun Oakes

This was written by the hulking mass of manliness known as Shaun Oakes. If you enjoyed what he had to say, you owe it to yourself to follow him on Twitter at @shaunoakes. Do it now.