Last night I met an idiot

Last night, I realised the man I swap stories with at my local is an idiot. By the time you finish reading this post, you will ask me why I didn’t whip out my belt and lash him like a small boy. Now, read along. For the rest of this tale, I will refer to him as the idiot or fool, and I will appropriately call myself, the wise man.

The idiot spotted a good looking woman standing near the counter. He told me he would wish to squish her juicy bits or juice her squishy bits.