I Win, Right?

I have a old buddy, and, in the spirit of friendly competition, we have a go at various activities where we can test our skills against each other. The challenge is to pick a sport/activity neither of us is particularly good at [ not really a big problem ]. Latest game was badminton.

Well, he begged off the first time , claiming he was 'under the weather', then the second time, claiming he had a 'sort of' rash that was bothering him in a sensitive area when he sweated a lot., then he finally admitted that he had a full on ' topical infection' in the groinage surface that the medicos were treating with ointments and such. Turns out he has a form of crotch rot akin to a mutated form of althlete's foot. They weren't sure how he got foot rot on his wang.

I suggested that he might have transferred the little buggies by using an unwashed sock as a wank buddy. He got crotch eating disease from preferring a cotton/polyester blend to his missus.

He's asking for a 'postponment' I'm saying he' forfiets' or I tell his wife why he's scratching his itch and not hers. I could up the ante by suggesting his wife may, or may not , find out what fantasy figure he was perusing as an aid when the 'injury' was contracted.

So, anyway....I win, right?
HEY! What's wrong with Badminton? Those plastic birds hurt! and they fly all over the place, never in a straight line, not like wussy tennis where you can see the ball coming. After a minimum of six beers each, trying to keep a plastic dingbat in the air with a food strainer/grease splatter cover can get pretty ...well, stupid...and...well, it sounded good at the time..

I still win, though, right?
Yes; you win! However back to the crotch rot; have you thought about shaving next time, he might be able to play then.

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