The boat rental season hadn't started so we hired a local who took us on a private boat tour. She was a real babe, the kind of girl you usually expect to see in Colorado or Wyoming, you know, the outdoors type, beautiful without makeup. Anyway, she was about 21 years old and I could tell she was pretty well stacked even though she was wearing a heavy wool sweatshirt. Just before we left dock I purchased four liters of that potent Scottish beer while our guide was talking my roommate and hid them in my backpack.
We cruised around the loch for about an hour just getting to know each other and talking about Nessie and the sightings. I could tell she liked me and we seemed to be hitting it off really good. Finally we came upon this little isolated cove and decided to stop and eat lunch. That's when I broke out the beer and after downing a couple of those high-test puppies we were all starting to feel pretty good. This is when things really started to get interesting.
My roommate, Corky, saw some weird tracks in the mud (probably from an Irish monkey) and we started joking how it must be the Loch Ness Monster. Corky could see I was hitting it off with the guide pretty good and, like any good wingman, made a big deal about tracking Nessie and followed the tracks into the woods. I opened another beer and the guide and I passed it back and forth. The more we drank the closer we got.
When we hit the bottom of the third bottle of brew the guide leans over and tells me she's getting hot and asks me if it's OK if she takes her sweater off. Well, I may be from the Midwest, but I'm not Dashole. I nodded my head yes; and she wasted no time pulling her sweater over her head.
HOLY MACKERAL! Talk about Loch Ness Monsters! I couldn't believe the size of the flounders on this water girl. Even though she still had on a heavy blouse I could tell these were no ordinary Yetis. Of course I wasted no time locking lips and trying to initiate my own personal Loch Ness Monsters sighting, but she kept pushing my hands away, pretending to be bashful. So I took it slow figuring the beer would kick in any minute and turn my shy Nessie into a wailing banshee.
Just when I though my would explode from anticipation -- the beer finally did what beer does -- I passed out. When Corky got back from his monster tracking expedition he found me unconscious lying by the boat and the girl was nowhere to be found, almost like she had been abducted by aliens or something. The only thing I had to prove that she had been there all was one of her fingers. I'm offering $5,000 for anyone who can help me find a well-endowed Scottish lass with nine digits that match this one.
