Oops, Wrong Hole
Quite suddenly I had wistful cravings for speciality beads up my bottom. This type of thing never happens to me, never happens to anyone I would think, especially not in Angelshine, Texas. Most people here have a stick shoved up their butts, not sex beads (or the dingle of a handsome field hand for that matter).
Darn that man, he filled me where my husband had never gone, not that he went anywhere anymore. I didn’t even know about such things, I didn’t know it could even happen. Now I surf the internet obsessed. “Oh, I can mail order them!”
Oops, Wrong Whole
I had ventured out into the world in an attempt to fulfill my cravings. From the bottom of my Den I had wistful dreams of the sweet orange crunch of the farmers carrots. I awoke to daylight waining through narrow opening to my home. I ventured out carefully. The keeper of the garden, I had heard, liked the taste of rabbits as much as we liked carrots. He was not in sight, I dug my treasure and fled, in my haste I lept into unfamiliar territory. His yellow eyes glowed in the dark, “carrot?” I asked hopefully.
Honourable Mention: Best theft by a non-human
Oops, Wrong Hole
The mail-room was a maze of tubes running from the bottom floor, to the penthouse. Each tube had a number. My speciality; knowing where each number went, but I also had carnal cravings. I looked wistfully around for the ‘easiest’ target.
“So,” I asked, “what happens if I shove this up the wrong hole?” I showed her a phallicly rolled envelope and waved it around.
“Well it sure as hell won’t get stuck in there, but no one’ll ever see it again.” She gave me a cold stare. The beads in her hair slapped my face as she spun away.