You haven't made love to a woman in many years, so you've decided it's time to get yourself a bearskin rug. When you get to your local discount furniture store, you'll discover not one but two bearskin rugs for sale.
"Which one will get me more babes?" you'll ask the salesman.
"That's for the babes to decide," the salesman will say. "You're going to have to try them out."
You'll bring home one bearskin rug, but after several weeks you'll find that it will fail to lure any women through your windows at night. So you'll return it before time runs out on the exchange policy.
"No babes?" the salesman will ask.
You'll shake your head no. "Let me try the other one."
When you bring that other bearskin rug home, you'll stretch it out on the floor and then retire to bed with your hopes low. But late that night you'll hear a rustling in your living room. You'll peek out your bedroom door and find eleven women writhing ecstatically in a large pile atop the bearskin rug. Go to them.
"Hi," you should say.
The women will stop writhing and compose themselves.
"Hello," one will say. "We're sorry. We couldn't control ourselves. The rug. Please don't phone the police."
You'll ask her if she is their leader and she'll nod.
"You like my rug?" ask her. She'll nod again. The others will nod as well.
Tell them how much it cost.
"Wow," the leader will say.
You'll all stand there a bit awkwardly, then when it's clear that none of the women are going to jump your bod, you'll again retire to bed. It will be difficult getting back to sleep when the women resume their writhing in the next room.
The following evening when you get home from work, there will be almost all new women on the rug. The one who was the leader the first night will be nowhere in sight. You'll try to talk to them, but they won't stop wriggling and writhing on the fur. Occasionally, you'll hear them whispering and giggling at you when you pass the pile. It will make you feel bad, so you'll stay in your bedroom for the rest of the night.
Over the next few days, more and more women will come through your windows. Soon, they'll start locking you out when you come home from work and you'll have to get the super to let you in. You won't want to throw them out, because it will have been a long time since you had a woman in your apartment, but you won't feel like they're being very respectful.
You'll try to throw a house meeting, and to make it convenient for them you'll schedule it to be held on the bearskin rug. But you'll end up being the only one to participate. No one else will bother to voice any concerns or pet peeves, and they won't appear to listen when you voice yours.
Finally, you'll decide you can't take it anymore. You'll tell the women that that rug is reserved for someone who thinks that you are special, and that they'll all have to go. They'll be disappointed, but they'll all file out the door.
Except for one.
"I told you that the rug is reserved for someone who thinks I'm special," you'll say.
The woman will smile and she'll say, "I know." Then she'll lie down on the rug. Whether she really cares about you or is just faking it because she doesn't want to leave the rug, you won't care. Because she'll smile up at you from the rug in a way that lets you believe that that bear did not die in vain.
Happy Turn Your Home Into A Den Of Sin Day!
