Tintinnamputation

Sailors get pooped, i.e., battered by strong waves from inclement seas. A party is not immune to getting pooped. Jeremy knew his get-together, a vehicle for reconciliation with his ex, Lila, wasn't guaranteed. Yet, it was going well. Smooth seas.

Then the doorbell rang.

There was Lila. Love-of-his life Lila. Estranged Lila. Walking in with two men.

"My lovers," she introduced. "Al and his friend, Antony." Then Al and Antony kissed her on the lips.

"Not here," Lila said.

Two lovers? Thus unrolled a huge wet blanket; foggy malaise; malodorous spoilsport; a threesome of buzzkill. The whole party paid attention.

"Nice to meet you, Jeremy," Al said. "Any luck finding a job?"

"Al," informed Lila, "is CEO of ChristainThreesomes.com. He is doing very well."

"I'll say," Al agreed, casually checking the time on his Rolex.

"And I'm his accountant," added Antony with a wink.

"Say, Jeremy," Al said, "we could use a guy like you — y'know, a loner — to help us on the side of the website rounding up turds."

"Thirds," Lila corrected him.

"Sure, thirds," and they shared a private chuckle. "For couples who can't reach a threesome. Another site that'll match up couples to people who could never — "

" — in their dreams — " interjected Lila.

" — ever have a threesome."

"You'd be perfect, Jeremy," added Lila.

"We can't pay you yet."

"We can't even get you in a threesome," Lila said. Everyone laughed. For Jeremy the tintinnamputee, this party was over.