So you’re a young Jersey City lady, orange skin glowing in the dawning light as you proceed through the day’s GTL ritual, and you feel something… strange. Something warm, and yet not comforting. Something moist, and yet not a piece of cake. Something yellow, and yet not jaundiced like your cousin Tony got that time. You, m’lady, are another victim of The Serial Urinator.
Twenty-seven year-old Nitinkuma Patel is accused of walking up behind random women and unexpectedly showering their legs with his frisky flow of festive fluid. He was spotted approaching a 16 year-old girl, pants already damp with what one would assume was anticipation, and whipping it out to give the shocked lass the full benefit of his bladder bilge.
No word yet as to Patel’s motive for this string of sexy sexual assaults, but word from my personal sources suggests that it may have something to do with childhood trauma involving his mother and an obscure incident in a ladies’ restroom.
EDITORIAL COMMENT:
Why is it these guys always have such awesome recall? I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning (could’ve been the steaming entrails of a deer I brought down with my bare hands, or possibly a bowl of Raisin Bran) , while Patel here can pee on someone and run home to relive the experience in minute, masturbatory detail.
Perhaps such deviance is like gingko biloba, fortifying the memory via sexual stimulation. I think I’ll go piss on the neighbor’s cat and see if I can remember what I had for dinner last night.
…
It works! I had asparagus!