This is all your fault. Give us a ride home NOW or I report this to the police!
From Create Your Own Story
"Of course! Of course!" the blonde business woman says as she nearly rips the doors off your car and herds everybody into hers. You leave your car by the side of the road; it's not damaged, but no one needs to know that. The two goth chicks again get in the backseat, but they're too flustered to commit any hanky panky. YOU however are always in the mood, so you flirt with the blonde as you sit next to her up front.
"Have you been rear-ended often?" you ask, barely able to contain your mirth at the double meaning.
"No!" the blonde says, "This is my first time."
"Do you have a red vulva?" you ask, smirking.
"Yes, why?" she asks, confused. "Can't you see it?"
"Not right now..."
"What? Ohh... because you're inside it?"
"No, but I want to be."
"What? I don't understand."
Meanwhile, the two goth girls are just about ready to explode trying to contain their laughter, knowing exactly what you're doing. For the rest of the drive to your house, you continue making jokes about rear-ending red vulvas, why vulvas turn red, how big or small they are, their German engineering, how often they need to be washed, how bumpers get damaged by repeated collisions but are designed to be soft and cushion the blow, and many other things that confuse the blonde even more.
By the time you reach your house, the goth chicks have forgotten all about the crash and think you're the funniest guy ever, while the blonde thinks you're extraordinarily smart.
Making good on your promise of dinner, you take it one further and invite the blonde in too, and she's happy to take you up on the offer, still a bit frazzled from the accident and now extremely confused to boot.
Do you:
