Storytime For Goths, Grunges & Furries

The wannabe comedian of the group looks at the stains on my worn-out jean jacket. “Tell us about the blood stains on the jacket Grandpa, did you get those trying to take the stairs with your walker and take a spill?”

I spoke to them in a matter-of-fact tone. “The blood stains?” “Well, there was this time when I was walking through the ghettos of Casablanca on assignment for Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and I was surrounded by ten knife-wielding thugs who were assigned to liquidate me”. “I had to eliminate them, the fate of the world depended on me.” “So, I had to utilize all of the esoteric martial arts skills taught to me during my years of training at MI6.” “Just so you know, the blood is not mine… I hope there were nice flowers presented at their funerals.”

One of them… who looked higher than Everest said, “Whoa dude… that’s bitchen!”

The assertive alpha of the group looks at my tee shirt showing through my open jacket. “What about all those different stains on your shirt… how did you get those?”

I took off my jacket to openly display all the stains; One of the guys was surprised I looked like I spent a few years lifting the iron. “Whoa, grandpa has got some guns on him.”

A pretty girl with a long furry cattail is sticking out the back of her tiger-striped spandex yoga pants. “He’s got some amazing pecs on him as well. She was young and pretty. “Damn… she is pretty, if I were twenty-years younger I’d give her tail a tug, and hope she’d return the favor.”

Another purple-haired fellow spoke up. “Holy crap, his shirt has more stains & holes than a tattered cleaning rage.”

A girl asked, “Where did you get all those stains and holes?

I was matter-of-fact. “All those are from another mission for the Crown.”

The girl with a tail coming out of her britches looked interested, “Well then, let’s hear all about it.”

Everyone in the group joined telling me they wanted to hear the story.

“Okay… but I want you all to remember, you asked for this.