Five Questions
In Vegas I made the mistake of telling my “friends” I had an “accident.” The girl giving me a lap dance was grinding too hard and I blew my load. Within minutes the nicknames started: Sticky Pants, Pocket Paste, et cetera. I took my medicine for three days in Vegas and thought that would be the end of it. Then before I walked in the door at home my brother was calling me Sticky Pants. Now my boss and coworkers are calling me SP.
The problem I have is that one of my so-called friends is out to ruin me. He had Sticky Pants business cards printed up with my name on them and is passing them out. I’m getting married next month. What are the odds the wife-to-be will learn about SP before I die? Do I tell her the truth now? Or should I kill ALL of my...