Nearly Being Raped & Why You Should Wash Your Veggies

(This post is 100% true and based on 100% true events.  I am not making any of this up, nor am I embellishing anything.  That being said……………….)

For work, I used to have to spend a great deal of time performing safety inspections for clients who were farmers and harvesters in Florida.  During the scope of my work one day, I thought I was going to be raped.

I had to go see a client in Labelle, Fl who harvests watermelons.  (Harvest is a more polite word for “pickers”.)

In Florida, we have tons of migrant workers who pick fruit and vegetables for mere pennies.

Anyway, I called the client and he arranged to meet me inside the front gate of the farm.  Typically, a land owner will have several crews harvesting multiple food items on their vast property.

I pulled into the front gate and my client was waiting for me in a large, extended white van.

I walked towards the van and I could see a driver and another man sitting directly behind the passenger seat.  The driver reached over, rolled down the window and told me to get in.

I got in and the smell of sweat, beer and body odor smacked me directly in the face.  It was about 90 degrees out and these two men had both been picking in the fields for several hours already.

Both men had dark, black skin.  So dark, they almost appeared purple in the sunlight.  They told me their names and said they were from the Dominican Republic.

It’s very common for migrant crews to be either Hispanic or from the neighboring islands.  Everyone wants to swim to Florida to make a better life.

They started driving me from the front gate towards the watermelon fields where the rest of the crew was picking.  The guy behind me leaned forward and started asking me some very uncomfortable questions.

“Do you like fucking?  Are you married?  I bet if you are married, you like to give her dick every night,” he said as I began to feel very, very uneasy.

I told him that I was married and didn’t answer the rest.  Immediately, I began thinking about where I was.

I was in the middle of a farm about 25 miles away from the interstate.  Essentially, I was in the middle of the phrase, “Buttfuck Egypt.”

He then started talking about how he likes to fuck 2 or 3 times a day and even though he’s in his mid 50’s he made sure to tell me that he could still get hard.

While he continued to tell me about his fucking habits, the guy driving just smiled and looked straight ahead.

Being in the fields is pretty much like being in the middle of swamp.  There are fields, canals with alligators, water moccasins and miles of empty space.  These two guys could very easily ass-rape me, shoot me in the head and throw my bloody corpse into a canal.  My body probably never would be found.

While this was probably unlikely, I couldn’t imagine having two huge Dominican dicks in my ass in the middle of a cucumber field in Buttfuck Egypt.  That definitely wasn’t the way I wanted to leave the earth.

We got to the field where the rest of the crew was working.  I could count about 12 or so pickers who were following an old, yellow school bus that had been modified like a convertible so that they could toss the vegetables over the side into the bus as they moved through the fields.

I was immediately struck with a new sense of disgust as I watched one of the pickers throw a watermelon onto the bus then pull his pants down, take a shit, pull his pants up without wiping and continue to keep picking watermelons.

True, fucking story.  This happens in the fields more frequently than anyone would care to admit or believe.  Personally, I’ve witnessed this several times throughout my work visits.

I did my safety inspection faster than any other in my work history and got back into the van.  I only hoped that I could get back to my car and leave the fields as quickly as possible.

Both men got back into the van and started to drive me back to my car.  The nasty fucker asked me if I wanted some beer and said I could stay and “party” with them.

I told them I would get fired and couldn’t.  I got to my car and drove home as fast as I could.  I was relieved that my ass wasn’t bloody and I escaped without becoming someone’s bitch.

When I got home I felt very relaxed.  Then my phone rang, it was my office.  On the other end of the line was the company’s human resource director.

After about 30 seconds, I hung up.  I was notified that my position had been eliminated and I had been laid off.

On any other day this news probably would have devastated me.  But that day, I was so happy that I hadn’t been ass raped that I actually smiled when I got the news of losing my job.  I just updated my resume and started to look for another job.

(The moral of the story; never put yourself in a situation where you may be ass raped, never take life too seriously and always, I mean ALWAYS wash your fruits and vegetables.)

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