Harris Brio
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Third World Traveller...By Harris Brio.
Yes I too had fallen deeply in love with a third world nation. The local aboriginal people gave it many colorful names as is tradition, United Kingdom, England and yes even Great Britain.
I had visited many a site. Oh how fondly I recall my tour of a local black tie affair were the aboriginals, out of tradition wore white. They referred to it as game of Cricket, perhaps named after a local food or plant. I believe it was named for a traditional dance. Do the cricket (Ha Ha).
I was in London England at the time, I must say that village sure had some great housekeeping service. I found this out due a slight embarrassing situation that had occurred at the Game of Cricket.
I'm a Hanes man, will with religious vigor only wear Hanes underpants. Except for the brief period in 69' were I wore boxer shorts. I'll never do that again.
I had been advised rather forcefully to wear white only at this lavish gather. I wore a white light woolen sweater and white polyester pants, minus underpants. I had been informed by the same advisor not to wear any underpants as it is considered vulgar and rude by the local aboriginal crowd that mostly gathers at these events. Unsightly she told me. Me being an American and already viewed as obnoxious and rude, I had no choice but to oblige. And I did.
As I sat and cheered, jumped up in loud acknowledgment at the Game of Cricket, I developed a severe itch in the crotch region, which measures seven inches approximately. The area between my testicles and slightly below my anus. A private area. I began to scratch fanatically, sometimes while sitting, most times while standing. My lady accompaniment informed that this, "scratching," was not to be done as it is a signal. A sexual message to the same sex. Highly unwarranted.
I then informed my lady accompaniment that I had no choice but to safely return to my lodgings, remove these polyester pants and fan the crotch region, which is seven inches in length approximately. I had no choice and I was not going to hear any rebuttal from the lady. I left immediately, without saying good bye even.
I ran stopped and scratched, mostly in telephone booths, I scratched furiously, sometimes lifting the phone receiver and using it as a scratcher. Although a bit of delay was involved I did manage to get back to my lodgings.
I removed my pants immediately once inside my stay. As I was fanning the effected area, I noticed my room had a full length mirror. This was a surprise as third worlders are not known for their proper grooming abilities. I stood infront of the mirror and with military drill precision I bent over forward to expose my crotch region, which is seven inches in length approximately. I noticed small white polyester burrs. These had embedded themselves firmly.
I ran immediately to the shower. I was compelled to rub the area clean of its attachments. Unexpected attachments, so the action I had taken was quick yet reasonable. I was not in a state of panic, as I will prove to you. In the shower area as I was attempting to expel the foreign debris, I noticed small slivers of soap, that housekeeping had left behind. I picked one sliver of soap up and applied it vigorously to the area. Rubbing back and forth with extreme herculean manner. I began pounding and beating my crotch. This is why I must stress that the crotch region is only seven inches in length, I did not know this at the time and therefore in my miscalculation I accidently and with the nimbleness of a ballerina and strength of a local mule, inserted the sliver of soap in my anus. This caused severe burning sensation, third degree. I stumbled out of the shower in excruciating pain.
Similiar to the time I wanted to build my house like the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas. I greatly admired the architecture and constantly wonder why no one had thought of this design before.
In order to properly asses the design I had opened the window of my room and leanded out to get a picture of the proper angel of the slope, suddenly a gush of wind from behind, I suspect the mangoo fruit cocktail, pushed me over. I slide several hundred feet tearing skin off my buttocks. Which was a surprise as I am known to be very firm. People have often told me I have a strong grip on deep seated matters.
Anyways the medical examiner had informed that I must wear plastic pants so that sunlight may repair the damaged area as firmly as before. This was a healing experience, except for the time I had to stand up and visit the restroom during a ball game.
I found myself, outside of my room screaming in anguish. A member of the housekeeping team found me and immediately wrapped me (gently) in a towel. I have recommended to the management that this person be singled out, for meritorious, duty. As her further instructions saved my life!
I’ll never fall in love with a third world country again...
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obmar
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ahh, cricket.
a game i never
could really understand.
in the hot
sunny days
of kuala kangsar
young teenagers
braved the sun
enduring those long hours
darkening the tones of the skin
why i wonder
when will it end
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