I have mentioned that even though my dad had five daughters, he really was kind of a prude. In that you didn't say the word period around him. And you certainly didn't talk or joke about inappropriate subjects. Why, just the other day I saw a dog with big huge testicles running in front of the car, and I said, "DAD! Did you see the BALLS on that dog?" He replied, "KADY! Don't say the B WORD."
Anyway, that's a little background to hopefully make the following story even more hilarious. When I was about 17, I was rubbing my dad's back, walking on it to try to crack it, (family stuff), I pushed on it...nothing. I wasn't getting the crack he wanted. So I told him, "Dad, flip over. I'll try something my chiropractor does for me."
So he laboriously and painfully rolled over onto his back, hopeful for the new and exciting treatment straight from the professionals. Then I said, "he doesn't really crack anything...but he says it helps". And then I started rubbing his boobs. Grotesquely.
For just a millisecond, I could see in his eyes that he was ready to kill a man.
|"I'll kill ya."|