How They Met

By • Jan 27th, 2012 • Category: WTH

I noticed him across the room. His eyes burning with desire. I’m used to men staring at me because I wear very short things, but there was something different about this one. When he came over and asked my name, I was intrigued.

“Nancy,” I said. “Nancy Combs.”

He laughed appreciatively. Either impressed by my western sounding name or my bosom.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Ronnie,” he replied. “Ronnie the third, Ssabassajja. But you can call me ‘ayi’.”

I gasped as he said this, overwhelmed by his machismo, his confidence. It was almost regal. “So, what do you do for a living, Ayi?” I asked.

I knew I would be bent over in the back seat of his range that night when he smiled a proud smile and said:

 

“I rule.”

  

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