(or target, or k-mart etc) . . .
After a long, hard day at the Henry S. Miller office in north Dallas, Jonathan found himself being strangely drawn to the Wal-Mart on the way home - almost as if the store were a huge magnet, and him a small, fragile piece of magnetic debris. As he pulled into the parking lot, he continued racking his brain as to what it could be that he needed here.
Toilet paper? No.
Condoms? For what?
Laundry detergent? No.
As he wandered aimlessly around the never-ending abyss that is Wal-Mart, it finally struck him - he needed to fill his prescription at the pharmacy. Kicking himself, he realized that he should have been able to think of that sooner, as the comparably lower prices on Wal-Mart prescriptions always fit so smewthly into his budget.
After a slow saunter towards the aging, toothless, Latina pharmacist, Yoni began to find himself overwhelmed with excitement and hardly noticed when he knocked over a display of ancient Torah scrolls on loan from the neighborhood Target superstore! The scrolls were laced with MRSA (a staph infection found predominantly in gay neighborhoods of the west coast, United States), and Jonthan was immediately infected. Moments after contact, his skin was erupting with blisters and secreting a delicious, yet foamy white substance - not so different than a typical Friday night filled with plenty of fun screams and shouts, as well as a plethora of Santorum.
Before he had a chance to rush to the customer service counter, he was alarmed by the overhead paging system when he heard a message that stated "Backwoods Brothel - Aisle 7." Rather than proceed towards the banal customer service center, Jonathan made a mad dash towards aisle number seven. Like the Red Light District of Amsterdam, or Nevada's famed Bunny Ranch, Jonathan was delighted to find scantily clad women looking for a good time, Shabbas dinner and $29.95.
He knew just what to do, and this chance encounter, while initially stressful due to medical induced trauma, became the beginning of a delightful romance. He quickly whipped out his HUGE wallet and immediatly shuffled through the seven folded one dollar bills, "this should cover it", he thought as he skipped into the distance squealing "which one of you will be my cunt whisperer today?!?"
Many lewd remarks and offensive tongue movements later, Jonathan was promptly kicked out of the "Aisle 7" district and directed back towards the original purpose of his journey - the pharmacy.
While waiting in line, he began to detect a slight hint of human female pheremones. After so many mishaps on this shopping trip already, he cautiously turned around to reveal the love of his life, right before his eyes!
WHITE (preferrably Jew) + ASIAN = A JEWISH MAN'S DREAM!
After much pressure and brainwashing from his best friend, Daniel, self-proclained "asian halfie" lover and advocate, Jonathan had recently begun his search for the "perfect woman", without any clue of just what kind of slightly slanty-eyed goodness with which his days were about to be filled.
As he delicately blotted up the pool of drool from his lips, chin and chest, he stuck out his hand and firmly said "Hi, I'm Yoni!".