Skit

I was at work the other day, thinking about some of the interactions I was having with potential sugardaddies and laughing to myself as I worked. I was laughing at myself, really, after I had written about needing plastic surgery and quipping, and then I pictured books I could author:

The Joy of Sex (instead of the joy of cooking, all about laughing), and then I thought, no, there should be a book called: "How To Be Funny In Bed" and then I pictured, in my mind's eye, some mid 30s man with dark brown hair, brown eyes, who is taller, who looks professional, slipping this book onto the nightstand table belonging to his wife, with a sneaky and furtive look, like he's just "accidentally" left a self-help book on the counter. Like it's porn or something, and he's feeling guilty for it. (premise: "How To Be Funny In Bed" has the latest revolutionary techniques of the modern age. Sexual relationships are no longer only serving a reproductive and instinctual purpose--we've evolved and only cavemen are serious about sex now. Everyone is getting off and laughing their heads off at the same time.) He's wearing a tie, and sort of looks to the left and the right, to make sure no one sees him placing the book there, and then he leaves.

His wife comes to the bedroom and notices this new book, "How To Be Funny In Bed" and gets mad, thinking it's a hint she's stupid or "funny-looking" in bed. She doesn't even read the back cover or skim the book. "What is THIS?" she demands, marching to her husband who has his hands up in the air. "I just thought it could be helpful honey," he says. "You think there's something wrong with me?" she asks. He shrugs, "No, honey, everything is just fine, I just thought you could lighten up a little." She bursts into tears and screams, "So THAT's the problem? You think I'm FAT?!!!!" He says, "No! No! Not fat, you're just not very funny." She looks up at him, with a wounded look in her eyes and a raised eyebrow. "What?"

(to be continued)