trippin the rift

With a wad of ones I flashed a churlish grin to the ladies at Starbucks.

"How are you doing, today?" they ask.

"I'm trippin the rift, oh yeah...trippin it hard!"

I want them to know that I'm up on all the risque sci-fi cartoons. The chicks dig that...big time.

"Yeah, I'm trippin the rift and I want extra head on that Frappachinoooo...if you...know what I mean." I give a sly wink and reach into both pockets at this point.

I pull my pants a bit with my hands to extend my fly. I hope they point out to me that it's down, though, of course I know it's down...I put it down for a reason.

If they mention it I have my stock answer in hand, "Oh, laugh-laugh, that penis of mine has a prehensile head and he's always getting into the greatest mischief. Always taking down the zipper for air...always...tripping the rift if you see what I mean."

But they don't mention anything, they just charge me my three dollars and twenty cents (plus tax) for my Frapppppachinnnnooooooooooo and I'm off on another clean living day of work and fun.