118 in the Shade of Gray

I'm Carlotta "Carly" Tibbs, proprietor of the Yosemite Sam Shooting Range and Sex Toy Emporium. It's one-stop shopping in balmy Bullhead City, Arizona for all gun-toting preverts in the great southwest. I was behind the counter marking down our selection of anal beads made of Saguaro cactus (worst marketing idea since New Coke) when she walked in from the oppressive heat, sweating like Kevin Spacey at an all-boys summer camp. She being Candy DeApple, a friend from long ago. She had packed on a few dozen pounds since school. Either that or she was smuggling a family of illegal aliens beneath her gargantuan pea-green top/tent. Her olive green stretch pants had no choice but to stretch outlandishly.She recognized me immediately and ran wheezing into my waiting arms, squealing with joy. We always had chemistry and history together. But those were the only classes we shared at Steven Spielberg High, home of the Fighting Cinematographers. Her claim to fame was allegedly having such a spacious vagina, it was referred to as the Grandest Canyon. Someone once said she offered weekend burro trips through it, but that was a vicious rumor. It was actually a Shetland pony.The last I heard, she graduated somehow and went to Arizona State U., a school with the largest number of underage alcoholics in the northern hemisphere.*It was 10 AM and my Red Devil Pizza thermometer was already registering 116. It is said this weather is Satan's Fatih escort bayan revenge for AZ native Alice Cooper being born again. My theory is it's God's revenge for Wayne Newton having lived here. But it does explain our state moto,* "Arizona... we wear flip flops year-round. Can you?" It's also home to the most venomous snakes, spiders and reptiles* west of Baltimore. Not to mention the horrifyingly painful jumping cactus.Turning to my former classmate, "What have you been up to, Candy?""Well, I was a temp in Tempe. Then I made flags in Flagstaff,* but I'd prefer not to talk about my year in Bumfuck, Egypt. It's literally too painful. Do you mind if I browse your... classy establishment?""Please be my guest." I flashed my best the-customer-is-always-right smile and followed closely in case she has sticky fingers from other than masturbating. She did display excellent taste, however. Her first point of interest was a dildo shaped like a Gila monster with a vibrating forked tongue for maximum clit stimulation. It was made locally by the Hopi tribe shaman ...or was it a Sha Na Na? Whichever wasn't at Woodstock. (Happy 50th Anniversary btw.) She seemed troubled, looking over her shoulder nervously as if Joe Biden would soon ambush her, seeking a campaign contribution. She looked at me with sad, pleading eyes and whispered..."Carly,* actually I stopped here with ulterior motives. I saw Escort Fındıkzade the sign and well, since reading that masterpiece "50 Shades" I've been very curious about exploring the world of B