#48 "Southern Exposure"
You walk outside to the mailbox, and suddenly you feel a southern breeze—a cool zephyr blowing through your nether regions. It feels odd, but you're tired and make no mind of it. The elderly sisters
across the street sit under a magnolia tree drinking Coors and smoking (most likely their usual Kents). They smile at you and wave. You wave back. They gaze slightly down at what you think is your knees, then look at each other and giggle.
You grab the mail and turn for one last wave.
"Boxers, huh?" yells the eldest of the two sisters.
This takes you off guard, and you don't understand. "Boxers?"
"We're sure glad it ain't briefs!" says the other one, laughing.
You shake your head. "Sorry, ma'am, I don't understand."
"The snake has left the lake, son," the eldest says.
"The banger is out of the hangar!" the other says.
You stare at them for a few moments, then it hits you. You look down and not only is your fly open,
but your boxers have not done a good job at containing your manhood. You quickly turn, pack it all back in, and zip up at
the speed of light.
"Thank you!" you say, not turning back, and throwing them a wave with the back of your hand.
"No, thank you!" says the eldest.
As they laugh heartily, you walk meekly back inside. You think you learned never to ignore the cool zephyrs blowing through your nether regions,
but you'll soon forget and repeat the same mistake. Hopefully, it won't be while being a pallbearer, best man, or feature
presenter at the conference.
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Crusted Salt comics by Jimmy Brunelle