Kernel Ch. 01

So, hey there people, I was born just over 21 years ago as Bobby Roberts and that was fine, um, for a while anyways, but these days, I just go by Kernel. And the origins of that nickname probably came how I was raised by military parents and my dad was a ranking officer in the guard.

Or it came from my summer jobs at the Farmer's Market where my specialty was taking customer requests to shuck, hand twist off the silk strings and clean end cut their ears of corn for dinner, I don't know. I do know that I almost got fired for the process that I developed, but the housewives around town banded together and made sure my ear of corn handling job was secure because they appreciated how their husbands were distracted for a while and volunteered to do the shopping, mm-hmm!

Anyways, let me just say that one I've learned along the way of my journey is how to find the silver lining within everything and not just because that's all of what I'm usually left to deal with. I mean, even as the (adorable) outcast in back in school, it still took people to make me the class outcast with their words and their actions and the silver lining back then was that I still had people to torment me, right?

Or maybe it was I who tormented them, I don't know, I went through my school days in a daze and I don't remember everything. But I remember a lot of interactions with people back in school, who may have had questionable tormenting intentions with me and the silver lining there is that, whew, I made it out on the other side of that tidal wave and graduated unharmed. Which, I appreciated.

And, since I'm day dreaming back a little, I'll touch base with how I know for sure that some of those tormenting people still silently follow me on social media to this day and my silver lining there is that it's totally legit of me to think to myself 'I'm even not mad that you're still thinking about me' and I know who most of them are because those idiots leave teeny tiny hints of their identity in their comments trails on my social media postings, mm-hmm. Which, like above, I appreciate, since it's like a silver lining of evidence and a win for me. Not that I keep score or anything, but I'm winning (OMG, finally!)

Anyways, before I bore you with the rest of my backstory and origins, let me make it perfectly clear that I only have one, one and only one, gripe in life and I'll just go ahead and get that one and only one gripe out of the way right now. My singular gripe in life is how, OMG, how it drives me absolutely crazy how some straight8 guys think that they can salt & pepper sprinkle in a 'no homo' here and there during a conversation and that makes everything alright! It does not. But they keep doing it, so, if it seems like I shake my head a lot in sheer amazement, there's a straight8 guy near me giving it his best shot. Sheesh.

Oh, and my silver lining for that is how I have the perfect dark hair style, down sloped and side flared out, to lower my head in sheer amazement as my dark hair flips back and forth as I shake my head. Which, as I said, I do a lot because hearing some charming straight8 guy say to me 'Kernel, no homo, but when do I get to pop my butter between your two ripe golden kernels of corn and nobody ever finds about it, huh' because that never gets old, mm-hmm!

And that's right, I referred to these seemingly straight8 guys as charming because even jerks can turn on the charm! Which makes it hard to not crumble sometimes, but if I hold out long enough, mm-hmm, they will eventually interject a 'listen, Kernel, no homo, but what's the harm of a blow job behind my prom date's back in the AV hallway, huh' and that always helps me to not crumble, especially since I almost fell for that trick with Jack behind Beth's back. Which never happened.

Um, just to be clear and we're not talking about our prom's afterparty, so, um, where was I then? Oh yeah, I was just getting started with how it no longer bothers me when some charming straight8 guy says to me 'Yo-Yo, Sweet Corn, it can't be homo if you started it' because I've never started it [much].

Um, moving on, I actually very much appreciate them and I especially like how they charmingly appreciate me back since some of my better qualities actually come from the smaller and simpler things about me. Like my wonderfully gifted and irresistible cupid's bow lips, which almost demand to be glossed in hellfire red, in the evenings, of course.

Anyways, I'll salt & pepper sprinkle in my other 12 gripes about life as my story goes on, but until then, let me just say that I've had it up here listening to some straight8 guy say to me 'listen, Kernel, no homo, but how do we have a 'Boi next door' sex hook up in secret, huh?' as he's poking me in the belly button with his finger, mm-hmm! I mean, duh, knock on my door after dark!

(Giggles) I jest, of course. Well, I mean, um, I might have a list of people who could knock on my door after dark, but that doesn't mean that a 'sins of the flesh' evening is a guarantee. (Giggles) unless your name is Theo and your excuse for a midnight rendezvous is to be the photographer for a 'Boi next door' meme photoshoot because in your mind, it's all 'Kernel, this can't be homo since you asked me to be help you take bathroom kernel of corn booty selfies in the past' as you rub your crotch with a huge grin on your face, mm-hmm! Oh, wait, um, I don't even know anyone named Theo, what?

So, moving on quickly, again, as for me, I'm a skinny little rail, an absolute skinny rail with a gifted set of adorable cupid's bow lips, but barely more than a thin rail, which has its advantages and disadvantages, depending on each individual's tastes, I suppose. But chiming in about that by saying 'Kernel, this is totally 'no homo', but your toned and firm twig legs are really highlighted when you wear those second skin bicycle shorts as you bike around the apartment complex' as they stand there along the bike path, ahem, in a line, to hand me a cup of spiked water.

But I do have an appreciation for their admiration of my bicycling toned and sturdy twig legs. And I'm not even to mad over the creeper photos of me that keep 'anonymously' popping up on my social media accounts, especially since (um, I'm so, um, flat in my lower middle section, with no sign that I was born as a male, even in Lycra blended bike shorts). But that doesn't call for some other charming straight8 guy to say to me 'Twin Kernels, it's 'no homo' of me to say that its easy to see why you were able to string Theo along for so long before he realized that his girlfriend was a Boi friend' or something like that. Especially when Benny could have just said 'Kernel, are you unattached now since Theo has finished using you for sins of the flesh guilty pleasures' because at least Benny didn't say the 'no homo' prefix. Um, also, um, wait, who is this charming guy Theo anyways, hmm?

Also, Theo knew from the start, so there!

Anyways, when I say that I'm thin as a rail, an alluring and appealing rail, with hellfire red cupid bow lips, I mean, in between my toned twig legs and my toothpick arms is the area where I should have a set of hips, but I barely have enough protruding hip bone points to hold up my pants. But in between my boney hip bones in the other direction and in the rear, I have a ripe corn kernel on the right and a ripe corn kernel on the left, both squeezed tight together like om a fresh ear of corn and if things were a teeny tiny bit bigger, I'd really have something. Meaning I have the shape and the right rise and fall slope and all, but I haven't the, um, the plumpness that I would prefer. I mean, everything about me seems to come with a 'XXXS' tag, sheesh. (Giggles) not that anyone seems to care about that.

But my silver lining with that is with just a quick snap of my fingers on my Denim shorts button and oops, gravity proves itself again and my shorts are at my ankles just that quick. Not that anyone else but me knows that, yet, ahem, not even Theo, whom I don't even know anyways, especially since that lousy bastard trained and groomed me into dropping to my knees with just a snap of his damn charming fingers! OMG! How does one erase life experience memories anyways, hmm?

[Shakes head in disgust over being used] anyways, as I move on from describing myself as a pea pod, minus most of the protruding pea bumps, let me address my next gripe in (2 of umpteen) life, my job. Well, it's not a gripe about my job as much as much as it about a gripe against my supervisor, my ole geezer supervisor, down at the distribution warehouse, who has a problem with 21st century lifestyle choices. You know, like an old geezer would do, so I downplay my facial makeup and keep my jeans to high waisted skinny jeans and that seems to keep with the peace with mean ole geezer, Mr. Greene, well enough. Besides, my ole geezer supervisor is going to die soon, I mean, retire soon, so, whatever.

(Giggles) and just to reiterate what I mean by how thin I am (giggles), most of my skinny jeans are the stretchy type because even regular Demin skinny jeans are baggy on me otherwise (giggles). Not that it stops these questionable straigth8 guys from coming after me, geez, but the stretchy types do have that unique ability to curl hook upward the rear seam between my golden corn kernels and when you're so skinny that you can barely use the word 'booty' to describe your rear, I mean, every little bit helps.

Also, note that I said 'high waisted' skinny jeans because last year I wore regular waist cut skinny jeans on a casual Friday and that was a mistake! Not that I was mad over the attention from the warehouse rats as I strutted up and down the 'walk of shame' aisle on the west side of the warehouse, but I'm not one of those people who engage in office affairs. Or engaging in hand jobs in the middle Men's room, even though Carl the Inspector, took his best shot and said to me 'Kernel QT, listen, no homo, but what say you and myself wash our hands together in the middle Men's room just after lunch, huh' because I wasn't going to fall for that trick, again!

Which is and was a shame since the middle Men's room has the best mirror system for questionable work selfies, with or without a straight8 guy photographer helper or a door watcher.

Like Leon. Who is the only warehouse rat who has never thrown a 'no homo' prefix at me. Who could have taken advantage of me in middle Men's room during the brief power outage back in March. But he didn't. Even though he caught me taking a twin kernel thong work selfie just before the power blinked out. The end, I guess.

Anyways, just be more like Leon and drop the 'no homo' and grope me, ugh, I mean, and just say what you want to say to me or ask of me. And Leon is gentle and a good kisser, so what?

[Sheesh, shakes head again to clear thoughts] um, moving on quickly, again, I have absolutely no gripes whatsoever about the apartment that I rent. And the origins of that occurred about three years ago, like two days after my graduation, when my generous parents gifted me with a co-signature for a single bedroom apartment in the newer and large apartment complex in town. And I'm happy to report that since then, after each lease expired, I've upgraded to a better apartment until I landed in the building end unit that I still rent to this day. The building end units are slightly different, like me and I'm happy to have a two story, two bedrooms apartment unit. It's probably the about same square footage as a regular two bedrooms unit since my place is not very deep, but it has a gas fireplace and a front door that faces different than the other units and that makes it unique, like me.

So, if I still have enough of your attention that you're still reading along with me, thanks. And I truly hope that we meet someday. Just remember to drop the 'no homo' prefix and kiss me, I mean, say what you want to say, all guilt free. Which (giggles) might be slam dig at some of my apartment complex neighbors, who banded together and said to me 'seriously, Popped Corn, it's just a little homo that as a building unit, we took a vote and agreed that you should post your laundry day schedule on the laundry room bulletin board and not just for our viewing guilty pleasures' because as I just said, my apartment door faces differently and I have a straight eye sight at the octagon laundry room building and I know when it's safe to wash my clothes, mm-hmm! Which is about 4am before anyone wakes up and uses the adjacent octagon work out gym building. Which I wish I had a better eye sight into, so what?

Anyways, still trying to move on with my backstory, I mean, I'm not a weirdo, but I might be a little weird sometimes, but it's almost mandated in the community playbook that life in the trans world has to have a little weirdness salt & pepper sprinkled in it and that's just the way it is. I mean, I may live on the edge, but I don't go far enough to be referred to as a weirdo. Besides, which of us is the weirdo when one of us says 'Shucked Corn, I don't mean anything by this, but the funky little work out gym could use a towel Boi and it doesn't even matter that the gym room doesn't have a shower' because that's just something that you do just once, mm-hmm.

And I only did that once because my Tranny friend, Marla Maye, said to me 'ooh, ooh and homo it up big time, Kernels of Gold, by wearing your bike shorts because they probably all jerk off over your 'ready for the picking' kernels of ripe corn anyways' which I already knew since I mentioned above that some of these charming straight8 guys leave a string of play-by-play accounting of their actions while they are lurking my social media postings. And yes, I still think they are all charming, the end.

And speaking of lurking and jerking over my social media postings, that leads me right into the origins of my story. And before you all go all 'what did you expect' on me, trust me, I get that 'likes' are more important than sliced bread or clean drinking water. But when it hits closer to home than you expected, I mean, it becomes, um, different. And different isn't good or bad, sometimes, but when that different comes from a, OMG, a co-worker, I mean, that makes everything different, am I right?

I mean, I've always seen this guy named Franky Ray as a forklift truck driver, a person who uses the water cooler to quench his thirst and a guy in the lunchroom who has many co-worker friends. I mean, maybe I see this Franky Ray guy as someone who I could make a sandwich for, but here's the thing, there is no way in hell that I'm, um, his type, not at all.

But OMG, who else would smack tag 'like' my bicycling prep photo with an animated bucking bronco rodeo rider emoji because, that's right, this straight8 guy, named Franky Ray, is all about the rodeo riders, all about them, especially when the events are televised. Of course, I had no evidence of who the anonymous user was who chose an animated bucking bronco rodeo rider emoji as a tag, but come on, two plus two has equaled four since at least the 20th century, so, who else could it be, hmm?

Not that I know much about this guy, Franky Ray or his TV watch preferences or anything.

Oh, and I 'liked' his 'like' back, so what, because he's never said anything to me at work or tried anything with me, but, you know, I could make a guy that charming a hefty sandwich for his rodeo TV watch day because he is that charming, mm-hmm. Um, wait, what? Who? Franky Ray? I'm sorry, but I don't know anyone named Franky Ray, goodbye.

Well, except for my preconceived fear that I would hear back from Franky Ray the old 'Popped Kernel of Corn, no homo, but I wouldn't be mad if you slipped while serving me a fluffy sandwich and ended up on my lap with a big twist' because (giggles) that vision already crossed my mind! Well, except for in my vision, I 'squirmed' on his lap much more than I 'twisted', on his lap, but I could do that, um, ahem, I mean, I could make that guy at my work a sandwich if he wanted one and that's all, the end. Um, guy, what guy?

(Giggles) well, unless you're a certain guy with the initials of FR, named Franky Ray at my work, of course. And you know, you finally want to admit and say something like 'Kernels of Gold, no homo here, but I'd be happy to spend time with you at your apartment while we try to skip trace this anonymous user who keeps tagging your social media with animated rodeo bucking bronco stallion emoji's, but be forewarned that the message might be that this guy might want to bucking bronco bang your teeny tiny golden corn kernel booty buns' because I'm pretty sure that's what that guy Franky Ray wants to admit. Not that it was going to happen that way, but I could make Franky Ray a fluffy stacked 'sins of the flesh' sandwich! I mean, there's nobody named Franky Ray on the payroll, so.

Now, as promised (giggles), I'm ready to move on past my origins and I repeat, OFMG, just drop the stupid 'no homo' prefix and say what you want to say or ask because...

[Desk phone rings, ring, ring, ring]

Oh, excuse me for a moment folks, you know, since I'm at work and all.

"Hello, this is Pre-Prep-Final, how can I help you, hmm?"

"Mm-hmm, Corn Whiskey, this is Lys from Receivables and you didn't hear this from me, but ole geezer Greene is off tomorrow for a wedding out of town and you know what that means, right?"

"[Kernel] um, that a pair of second cousins are getting married, Lys?"

"[Lys] well, duh, but it also means that tomorrow is casual Friday, plus, plus and now you can dress to impress your bucking bronco rodeo rider crush, so?"

"[Kernel] Lys, Lys the Slayer, just shut it, because Franky Ray is not my bucking bronco rodeo rider crush and I barely know him because he doesn't even work here!"

"[Lys the Slayer] hah! Anyways, first of all, Kernel Q, stop approving the orders paperwork with your infamous puckered Cupid's Bow hellfire red 'mwah' lip prints and use the standard 'approved' red stamp and you owe me bigtime for something I haven't even thought of, yet, but expect a bigtime big fuss at the rear guard shack around 2pm today and I wouldn't be mad if on your lunchtime 'walk of shame' behind the west side yellow safety line, well, just let Nathan from Building Maintenance that the coffee machine went on the fritz caputs this morning, goodbye [click]."

Um, for first of all, never mind half of anything that Lys the Slayer says, especially since her second catch phrase is 'you owe me bigtime' because nobody literally ever knows why, but it's always a big fuss because...

"[Whirl, whirl, whirl, up whirls a propane powered forklift truck with a beep, beep] what's up, Poppy Corn? Need a ride back to your work area, huh? And we can take the west side safety 'walk of shame' aisle or the east side 'walk of fame' safety aisle, so?"

Oh, for one, riding double on a forklift truck is strictly prohibited at the warehouse and for two, OMG, it was this guy that I didn't even know, named Franky Ray, the rodeo guy! Luckily (giggles) one upside to being so thin is that one can hide behind literally anything, especially behind the broad body of a straight8 normal guy. Who might need a sandwich. And who was never going to argue about snuggling up in a seat built for one.

And it's not even weird that I may or may not get a little tongue tied when I have a chance to babble and grumble with Franky Ray, so what?

"Um [snuggles up in the seat], I mean, erg, um, bah, bah, ooh, um, well, you see, um, where was I, um, well, I mean, erg, so, Franky Ray, um, chicken pot pie, erg, um, ah, um, I mean, um, what do I mean because, oh, I mean, Franky Ray, I mean, your leg hair must have started to grow in when you were just a teenager [gulp], right?"

"[Whirl, whirl, whirl, whirling along] oh, um, that's a super weird thing to ask, Kernel, but, um, I suppose my leg hair started to grow as I approached my teens because..."

"Because, Franky Ray, even though I'm probably not your type, I mean, bah, bah, erg, ooh, um, a little birdie, told me that, bah, bah, grumble, ooh, hee-haw, that there is some sort of, gurgle mumble, gaga, goo, that there is some sort of sandwich, ugh, erg, I mean, some sort of Equestrian event on the TV this Saturday afternoon because..."

"[Whirl, whirl, whirl, whirling along] oh, um, I'm into bronco bucking rodeos much more than I am into those fancy Equestrian events and not just because the rodeo people wear tighter than tight Demin jeans and cowboy hats, while the Equestrian riders wear those poofy pants and fancy skull helmets, so, this as far as my forklift truck can go, so, goodbye, Kernel."

OMG, what the hell was that? Other than a slap in the face rejection? And by the way, what can possibly be the difference between an Equestrian event and rodeo championship anyways, hmm?

[Search engine search, search engine search, oh, it's like a night and day difference]

Well, what I meant to say was that's like saying there are many different types of ball games, sheesh.

[Search engine search, search engine search, oh, football, baseball, volleyball, basketball, ping pong, beer pong, soccer, um, never mind!]

Especially since, OMG, Franky Ray had to drop me off the propane refilling station, which, OMG, only left me with the west yellow safety line walkway aisle, the walk of shame aisle, to get to the Building Maintenance door to report that the coffee pot is on the fritz.

"[Slithers down from the love seat built for two near the bright yellow fenced off area near the large propane refilling station] so, I mean, erg, er, um, so, I mean, I did ask something, I mean, it was more of a statement than a, erg, ooh, oops, whistles, um, than a question because..."

"I'm sorry, Creamy Corn Kernel, but you're not my type and I promise it, it's not me who keeps tagging your social media postings with those animated fucking, I mean, bucking bronco rodeo rider emoji's, so, goodbye."

OMFG, again, what the hell was that? Other than a back handed rejection? Oh, hold please.

"But, but, but, I mean, I made a mistake with the types of horse events, Franky Ray, so, I mean, erg, er, um, so, bah, bah, I mean, asphalt roads, erg I was going to make, erg, ooh, ah, so, um, stacked shaved ham and baby Swiss cheese sandwiches, ugh, um, wallop, um, with smashed gourmet potato chips in the middle because, um, erg, argh, and I would probably make you, wee-hah, make you two sandwiches because, OMG, grumble, mumble, because that's good for leg hair growth and be-bop, um..."

[Away whirls the propane powered forklift truck after giving his trophy worthy bitch slapping rejection]

Mm-hmm, and leaving me stranded to use the hooting and hollering and whistling walk of shame aisle, mm-hmm (giggles) which I may or may not have made my own personal runway catwalk because as I said, I rather enjoy the attention my warehouse rats pay to me because...

"[Hoot, holla] no homo, but I dare you to step over the yellow safety line on the floor, Golden Kernels of Corn, so?"

"[Strut, walk] hah, in your dreams, Leroy!"

"[Holla, hoot] I came to your rescue a few weeks ago, Boiled Corn Kernel, so?"

"[Walking, strutting] is that what the 'no homo' cool people call it now, Luke? Helping me with a questionable work selfie because my rear thong strap needed adjustment to perfectly split my two kernels of corn, hmm? Also (giggles) your dippy fingers were fast! I mean, goodbye, Luke (call me)."

Well, Luke charmed me, so what?

"[Whistling, hooting and hollering] screw it, popped pop corn kernel, all of us pre-loaders are admitting that we want to go all 'homo' between your teeny tiny twin kernels with our corn cobs and we promise to not gang bang you more than once each! Or maybe twice, so?"

Well, SOB, right? I mean, their honesty was refreshing, disturbing and disgusting all at the same!

"Pete, OMG, it's bad enough that all of the gross ass funky pre-loaders steal the orders paperwork that I approve with my perfectly pursed and puckered cupid's bow 'mwah' lip prints and cut out the middle between my lips for your stupid ass warehouse rat glory hole, mm-hmm!"

"[Whistling, hollering, hooting] hah, says the Pre-Prep-Final approver who said and I quote "um, guys, it's nobody is homo if I open my mouth a little for a better lip print and cut the hole myself, right' because, uh-huh, you started it, like you always start it and now it's time for you to actually hold the lip print signed paperwork up to your face because you just realized that, OMFG, we've been going all 'so homo' by each of us holding up the paperwork in front of us and...

Well (giggles), the walk of shame aisle just took a weird and dark turn because...

"[The brown steel supply room door flings open a hooking arm snags his prey and arm hooks that prey into the nondescript room and closes the door] don't be alarmed or fight back, Golden Corn, because I'm only kidnapping you for less than 3 minutes [lip smooch smack], so?"

"[Barely struggling to break free from his grip] at least give me a chance to lip smack you back, Nathan, because I was actually coming to see you and report that the office's coffee machine is on the caputs fritz and to cry on your shoulder for just being kicked to the curb, I mean, um, Nathan, there's a problem with the coffee machine and you need a caputs wrench and a fritz screwdriver, so?"

"[Smooch smack, with a return smooch smack] Kernel QT, I heard that the old geezer [smooch smack] is off tomorrow for a wedding out of town [lip smack, with a return lip press] and that makes casual Friday even sweeter [smack, with a return smooch], like your sweet corn kernels [ smack press, with a smooch press back] because I'm spreading the word [firm smack, with a return peck], that it's [pressed smooch, with a pressed smack back], that it's goth casual Friday and [tongue tease, with a tongue tease tag back] and I have a vision, so?"

"[First smack press forward] well, I had a vision too, Nathan, until a few minutes ago [smack, smack to catch up] and visions can be deceiving [tongue tag forward, with a nibble back] because sometimes a vision [press lips and hold, hold, hold, open eyes, hold] is the same as a kicked to the curb smack in the face rejection [peck, with a peck back] before I even made a sandwich, so, what?"

"Oh [hard pressed smooch], are you on the rebound, Kernel Cutie [deeper tongue tease smooch], huh?"

"Bah, bah, ooh, um, erg, bah, oh, well, um, bleep, heehaw, oops, um, whew, so, er, um, what?"

Well, I stutter a lot when the 'no homo' conversation turns towards how giving a rebound blow job solves everything, ugh, I mean, sex, just sex, things always turn around to sex, that's all.

"[Finally grips and squeezes those firm kernels of corn] so, for goth casual Friday, QT Kernel, black lips [smack], black eyes [smack, smack], black based attire [smack, tongue tip, smack], black boots [smack, tongue tag, smack, smack, press], 16 freckles [smooch, smack, smooch, tongue swipe] and fingerless gloves [tonsil check, tongue tap, smack, smooch, smack, mwah, smooch], okay?"

"Bah, bah, bah, argh, ooh, ooh-la-la, um, erg, so, so, I mean, oh, yoo-hoo, gurgle, grumble, mumble, bah, bah, oops, um, um, I mean, stop already because now I owe you 10 lip smacks, 4 smooches, 5 various tongue dips and tags and 1 full lip lock and a sandwich and I can't sexually afford to allow you to have the lead because the leader always gets what he wants because..."

"[Mwah lip lock with no chance of a repay] and all that counting math can go away with just one simple teeny tiny kiss back, down yonder, Kernel, since I'm already saluting you anyways, so? Oh, but not the sandwich because I need my sandwich because my chest hair is coming in nicely, so."

Stupid warehouse rat guys and their backroom salutes!

"[Tightens his grip on the fresh and ripe kernels of corn] so, Ripe Kernels, might there be a questionable squirting of the mustard while you're serving me a sandwich in your teeny tiny server's outfit [super closes the body gap], huh?"

"[A nervous gulp and gap press back] erg, um, whoop, um, OMG, Nathan, I have two kinds of mustard and a squirt bottle of 'eye of newt' sauce as my witchcraft protection from becoming overly seduced by some warehouse rat who has way too much charm, mm-hmm!"

"[Smooch press, with a peck smack return] is that 'eye of newt' sauce creamy or chunky, Kernel [tongue tap, with a tongue swipe back], huh?"

"[Cupid's Bow pucker smack forward] it's creamy, dreaming and breaming with flavor, Nathan, just like me! And I'm officially seduced now, so, here goes nothing."

I mean, my eyes were spinning and watering and my lips were just getting warmed up and there was no way that I was going to just sit on the curb and Nathan brings the charm and the gentle hands and...

"[Squeak, squawk] attention, Kernel, Golden Kernel of Corn, please report to the rear security guard shack, pronto, for a strip search [squeak], I mean, for a visitor and make it pronto because your name is being flung around like it's mud, so, pronto and over [squeak, squawk]"

Whew! My seduction was saved by the squeaking and squawking of the warehouses loud speaker system, so, whew. Not that I was thrilled about Stanley the security screaming out about how he wants to strip search me, you know, since he's older than my supervisor, ole geezer, Mr. Greene and all, but still, whew, backrooms can be dangerous!

End Kernel 01