After a lengthy
day or two on any beach, ranging from Edisto to Charleston, and after the occasion for wearing a bathing suit fashioned from man-made fabrics has
long passed, a realization comes to light in the back of the 1996 Jeep Cherokee you are riding in.
The moisture that is typically repelled by the body delivers a scent of a
woman that is typically rejected by the breathability of natural textiles.
The outcome is a delightful scent, an odor to be cherished by all, much like the locked
door of a car and a fart on a first date.
"Holy fucking shit, Sean!" exclaimed
Ryan. "I have been trapped in this pussymobile for 3 hours and it is
fucking killing me!"
"Relax, Bro,"replied Matt. "It's just a Carolina Clam Bake."
"What in the fuck are you talking about?" replied
Ryan. "It smells like a fisherman's taint!"
"That's only the scent of yeast, slowly baking the finest bread known to man!" Matt replied.