You got it? Let’s dial up the absurdity and dive back into a world where verbal jabs have hilariously physical repercussions. Prepare for more lip-smacking (literally!) fun! Here’s some Pucker-Up Fun…

ASS KISSER!

The Day Politeness Became a Necessity

The “Great Lip Exodus,” as it came to be known, wasn’t a one-off event. Brenda’s unfortunate incident was merely the first ripple in a tidal wave of involuntary facial acrobatics. Soon, every time the words “ass-kisser” or “butt-kisser” were uttered in anger, frustration, or even playful jest, the speaker’s lips would embark on their horrifying, self-directed mission.

Take, for instance, the annual “Employee of the Month” gala at Widgets R Us. Mildred, a long-suffering veteran of the sales department, watched with barely concealed disdain as young Chad, barely out of college, received his third consecutive award. Chad, a master of strategic compliments and perfectly timed coffee runs for the CEO, was a prime target.

“Honestly,” Mildred muttered to her colleague, Barry, “that boy is such an ass-kisser.”

Before Barry could even nod in agreement, Mildred’s perfectly painted lips (this time a sensible nude shade) zipped off her face with a sound like a tiny, wet slingshot. They streaked across the ballroom, past the horrified caterers, over the glistening ice sculpture of a widget, and landed with a distinct thwack on the backside of Chad’s freshly pressed tuxedo.

Chad, mid-acceptance speech, froze. Mildred stood there, a gaping, smooth expanse where her mouth should be, looking like a poorly rendered cartoon character. The CEO, who had just been about to shake Chad’s hand, recoiled. The entire gala went silent, save for the faint, unsettling smack of Mildred’s lips repeatedly puckering against Chad’s rear. Chad, mortified, tried to discreetly brush them off, but they clung with the tenacity of a barnacle.

The phenomenon wasn’t confined to adults. Little Timmy, on the playground, accused Susie of being a “butt-kisser” for sharing her crayons with the teacher. His tiny, cherry-red lips (from a lollipop) detached and made a bee-line for Mrs. Gable’s sensible corduroys during story time, leaving Timmy to finish his sentence in a series of confused, airy whistles.

The sheer, undeniable public embarrassment became the ultimate deterrent. Nobody wanted their lips to go on an unsolicited, anatomical adventure. Imagine trying to explain that to your therapist.

Soon, the once-common insults vanished from public discourse. People developed elaborate euphemisms. Instead of “ass-kisser,” you’d hear, “Oh, he’s really enthusiastic about management’s initiatives,” or “She has a remarkable talent for aligning with authority.” Or far worse, “He’s not only an Ass-Kisser, he sucks up every crumb drop of manure that person drops.” “He follows him like a Trained Parrot.”

The most popular replacement, however, became “Franking that person’s Kool-Aid.” It was coined by a quick-witted comedian who, after witnessing a lip-related incident, quipped, “Looks like someone just Franked that guy’s Kool-Aid!” The phrase stuck, a nod to the sugary drink and its association with eager consumption, now repurposed for over-the-top flattery without the risk of facial dismemberment.

The world became a slightly more diplomatic place, not out of genuine kindness, but out of a profound, primal fear of lip-detachment. Arguments were resolved with polite nods and strained smiles. Office politics became a silent ballet of subtle gestures. And somewhere, in a quiet corner of the internet, a black market for super-glue-based lip adhesives briefly flourished, before being shut down by the newly formed “Federal Facial Integrity Bureau.”

So, next time you feel the urge to call someone an “ass-kisser,” remember the Great Lip Exodus. And perhaps, just perhaps, consider saying “Dang, they sure like drinking his or her Kool-Aid” instead. It’s much safer for your face.

How did that one land? Are Ass-Kissers born that way? From a long line of Ass-Kissers?

Lol…