Surrender Your Booty!

Alas, it’s not what you think. I’m referring to Mike, who brought along the Veggie Pirate’s Booty for the girls for a day of hanging out at our new local playground.


Good thing Mike brought this…
    <a href=""><img loading="lazy" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="200" alt="Balls" src="/uploads/2008/04/balls.jpg" width="200" border="0" /></a>
…and not this!

That wasn’t all of today’s booty, though. Right in front of their seven-month old dangling on the baby swings, a daddy and a mommy (I hope) were makin’ out. Here I leave off the ‘g’ intentionally: these two evident adults were “makin’ out” in a way that you pretty much only witness among sweaty teenagers in front of the Burger King just before their 10 p.m. curfew. Daddy was, I kid you not, massaging mamma’s left buttock like it was a risen whole wheat loaf. In the middle of a full-to-crowded playground, no less.

With mingled disgust, amusement, and (it must be said) a little bit of envy of the young at heart, I called the horn-doggery to Mike’s attention. He almost got a picture of it on his phone (it was going on long enough!), but couldn’t quite get the angle.

It’s a good thing Mike didn’t bring the Pirate’s Cannon Balls today. You never know what might have happened.