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2002 Note: Like its predecessor "Manifold Destiny," this is another string of the worst contrived automotive and sex puns ever collected. Again, "Sophomoric" is the perfect term, because I was actually a U of M sophomore at the time! Thankfully this only lasted one episode. 

Unchaste at Any Speed

Continuing the adventures of "Groaner" Fred Furter and Joe Kajuba

Copyright 1975, 2002 by Bruce Jaeger. All rights reserved.  (Printed in the DNF, March 1975)

     We rejoin our heroes, Fred and June Furter, at the breakfast table. With his vast Army experience, Fred has managed to land a job as a private detective, and does a little chinchilla ranching on the side.
     Fred cut himself a piece of oatmeal and turned to June.
     "I had a grave experience last night" he said.
     "Yes. I was a wake all night." June grabbed an egg and slapped him silly with it.
     "Guess she didn't like the yolk," muttered Fred.
     Later that morning, Fred's friend Joe Kajuba staggered over. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands dirty and his blood tired.
     "You look terrible, Joe," remarked Fred.
     "Yeah," agreed Joe, "I just got out of a sickbed."
     "Yeah. Girlfriend's sick."
     "Oh. Then why are your hands so dirty?"
     "That? Well, I had a flat tire on the way over. I ran over a milk bottle."
     "You mean you were so hung over that you couldn't even see a milk bottle?"
     "Well, the damned kid had it hidden under his coat! So I had to get out to change atire. Had these clothes in the trunk."
     "I thought June's breakfast was stale, until I heard your jokes," said Fred. He slapped a cowboy hat on his head and drawled to Joe, "You all want to see my Chinchilla ranch down in the basement?"
     "'Your what?"
     "My chinchilla ranch. I saw one on TV, and the guy said you could make thousands of dollars a year selling chinchillas, so I built one."
     "If you can make so much money," said Joe, "How come the guy is selling them on TV, instead of selling them somewhere else? Have you sold any chinchillas?"
     "Well, no ...Maybe I'll buy some TV time and sell them to other chinchilla ranchers."
     "Right," said Joe, "I'll take a look, away. Where's your cellar?"
     "0h, I keep it downstairs." Fred led Joe dean the stairs, where he discovered all his cages jumbled in the middle of the cellar floor, without a chinchilla to be seen.
     "Rustlers!" screamed Fred. "Get a rope!" Joe rolled on his back, laughing

     "What's all this noise?" demanded June as she stamped down the steps.
     "Some polecat rustled all my chinohillas!" lamented Fred.
     "Those damned things? I got tired of cleaning their smelly cages, so I sold them all to the neighbor kids as hamsters. Got five bucks apiece."
     "You've really got some stupid neighbors!" said Joe.
     "Who cares?" exclaimed Fred. "We made a profit! I'll just order another batch, and..." June shook her head.

     Joe left while the cease-fire was still operative, and, since one lady friend was sick, drove to South Minneapolis to see his next-in-line. (Remarked Joe to himself, "She's nice ...but she's so phony, you can call out for pizza on her." Joe even tells bad jokes to himself.)
     The girl, who shall remain nameless, welcomed Joe into the house.
     "Listen," said Joe. What would you say if I stole a kiss?"
     She reddened. "The same thing I'd say to anyone who had a chance to steal the whole car, and only took the hubcaps!"
     "Ah, well, ah ...."
     "Listen, Joe," she said. "I'm not prone to argue..."

The End

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