They came from the hills in packs of twenty or thirty to see the new brothel. It wasn’t operational yet, but that didn’t stop the working girls from earning a living. Madame Beatrice had gone to the city to pick up last minute items for the grand opening. Her number one choad buster, Mirelda, was busy testing the re-enforced beds with the local carpenter, Pudboil.
Old Man Flaccidwang owned the liquor store across the street. He was looking forward to the increased business when the brothel opened. His assistant Claude “The Bovine” Turbogreaseloaf was looking forward to getting his fuckle on during lunch break. Since the brothel wasn’t open yet, Claude was taking his passions out on grapefruits behind the grocery store.
The people from the hills gathered in front of the brothel and started chanting “TITS AND GRITS! TITS AND GRITS!” Mirelda walked out the balcony with one teat exposed and a huge bowl of yesterday’s grits. She pressed her boob into the grits and then hucked them into the crowd. They went bezerk and climbed up the poles onto the balcony. One of them grabbed Mirelda and took her to a private suite. The rest of them pulled their puds out and stuffed them into the electric sockets.
Claude ran over and broke down the front door. He yelled at the top of his voice. “Where’s the fukkkkkin grits!!!” and then took a shit in the oven. He turned it to 350 degrees and set the timer for 47 minutes.