I was a nervous kind of kid growing up. There was a lady who lived across the street who didn't have a right arm from the elbow down. Nobody would give me a straight answer as to where the rest of her arm was RIGHT NOW and what the hell happened to it. Was she born that way? Got caught up in a major biker fight? An army of rabid flesh eating armadillos got her? WHAT?! To make matters worse she was the kind of woman who shellacked on the makeup. She looked like she couldn't stand next to a 60 watt light bulb without her face melting off. It was extremely creepy (bless her heart). I used to take the fastest shits in town back then because I would worry that her hand would find it's way into MY toilet and goose me. Which would obviously be a very bad thing. I also would climb into bed and then meticulously pat down the sheets all around me in case her arm found it's way into my room and began commando crawling under my sheets to "get me". Fortunately we eventual...
Like sex, but with a B.