168 Hours Well Spent
Once he’d involved the community in his madcap scheme, there was no stopping him.
Monday through Thursday, he tried out every position known to science, some of which required Zero Gravity. Others, intense seclusion.
Friday was a day of rest. Young ladies everywhere did their best not to disturb while getting it on with his motionless body.
Saturday he spent motorboating actual breasts on an actual motorboat.
And on Sunday, he died with no regrets while performing the infamous “Sex Wheelie”, a move designed to test the upper limits of even the most hardened sexual dynamo. Few dare try, and fewer still live to talk about it.
It’s funny; if one measures by fuckin’, that boy lived more in seven days than the rest of us ever will. By the time rigor mortis set in, you’d swear his undying erection was a monument to the human spirit, as important an achievement as the moon walk or the ending of apartheid. Call me crazy, but I salute his turgid anatomy.
R.I.P. Jermaine Champagne