Going on Snatch Patrol
reverendhornibastard
Depraved Deacon of Degeneracy
When my twins were still in strollers and we were living in Singapore, if we were out shopping or just out for a walk on Orchard Road, Mrs. Hornibastard #3 often took our daughter in one stroller and I took our son in another stroller.
While my wife shopped I would take my son on a little tour of the mouth watering delights Singapore had to offer. I referred to those walks with my son as “going on snatch patrol.”
As soon as my son and I were out of earshot of Mrs. Hornibastard #3 and our nannny, my snatch patrol commentary would begin.
“Damn! Look at those lusciously long legs! I’d love to wear them as a necktie!”
“Fucking hell! I’ll bet she’s tighter than a snare drum!”
“Oh my god!! Just watching her walk makes my teeth sweat!”
“That’s it, cupcake! Work it! Work it!”
My son was largely pre-verbal when we began our tradition of snatch patrols on Orchard Road, the sexual epicenter of what is undoubtedly the most pussilicious city on Planet Earth.
But kids learn fast.
One day when my son and I had rejoined his twin sister, his mama and the nanny, a scrumptious looking Chinkette paraded past us. She had fabulously long, lithe legs that went all the way up from her stilettos to a miniskirt so tiny that it left nothing to my lurid imagination.
https://www.tuscl.net/photo.php?id=2030
Seated calmly in his stroller my son suddenly erupted, “Now THAT’S what I’m talking ‘bout!!!”
Surprisingly Mrs. Hornibastard #3 and our nanny paid no attention and made no comment.
A few days later my son and I were on the elevator in the high rise we lived in. The only other person in the elevator with us was a middle-aged Italian woman who lived in the same building. My 3-year old son looked her up and down and commented, “Not bad for a white chick!”
She smiled at him and in her very weak English said something about how adorable my son was. She was clearly as oblivious to the nature of my son’s comment as my son was to how outrageously inappropriate what he’d just blurted out was.
And so, sadly, the lively commentary on our father/son snatch patrols had to come to an end.
While my wife shopped I would take my son on a little tour of the mouth watering delights Singapore had to offer. I referred to those walks with my son as “going on snatch patrol.”
As soon as my son and I were out of earshot of Mrs. Hornibastard #3 and our nannny, my snatch patrol commentary would begin.
“Damn! Look at those lusciously long legs! I’d love to wear them as a necktie!”
“Fucking hell! I’ll bet she’s tighter than a snare drum!”
“Oh my god!! Just watching her walk makes my teeth sweat!”
“That’s it, cupcake! Work it! Work it!”
My son was largely pre-verbal when we began our tradition of snatch patrols on Orchard Road, the sexual epicenter of what is undoubtedly the most pussilicious city on Planet Earth.
But kids learn fast.
One day when my son and I had rejoined his twin sister, his mama and the nanny, a scrumptious looking Chinkette paraded past us. She had fabulously long, lithe legs that went all the way up from her stilettos to a miniskirt so tiny that it left nothing to my lurid imagination.
https://www.tuscl.net/photo.php?id=2030
Seated calmly in his stroller my son suddenly erupted, “Now THAT’S what I’m talking ‘bout!!!”
Surprisingly Mrs. Hornibastard #3 and our nanny paid no attention and made no comment.
A few days later my son and I were on the elevator in the high rise we lived in. The only other person in the elevator with us was a middle-aged Italian woman who lived in the same building. My 3-year old son looked her up and down and commented, “Not bad for a white chick!”
She smiled at him and in her very weak English said something about how adorable my son was. She was clearly as oblivious to the nature of my son’s comment as my son was to how outrageously inappropriate what he’d just blurted out was.
And so, sadly, the lively commentary on our father/son snatch patrols had to come to an end.
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