Alias the Eunuch

Boy, water day. Finishing my morning perusal of Harry's loopy French letters, I had set upon breakfast, only to realise that my pantry had been raided by a previous mood, most likely last night's, and was in a state of utter emptiness. Even my pantry-liners were missing. Consequently, my entire morning was spent piecing together decidedly unpalatable scraps I'd retrieved from my fridge in the hope of concocting enough fibre for the day's most important meal. Failing that, and noticing, with more than a touch of dejection, that it was forty minutes into lunch-time, I took to the asphalt and looked for a restaurant.

I found one twenty minutes further on, and it just so happened to contain Ben, who just so happened to be accompanied by a fair-haired lass of distinction. The place was just so happening.
"Hi, Ben and co.," I said. "Good eats?"
Ben winked into bedroom-eyes and indicated his sexier-than-thou companion. I shuddered.
"Eats as in 'eating out'," he said, grinning dully.
"I know, I got it."
"'Eating out' as in cunnilingus," he continued, undeterred.
"I know, Ben."
"'Cunnilingus' as in oral sex."
"Ben—"
"'Oral sex' as in the thing where I use my mouth to stimulate another person's genitals."
"Ben—"
"'Stimulate' as in raise the levels of physiological activity in—" 
"All right, I'm off."
"Suit yourself."
I gave Ben an especially icy glare.
"Goodbye, Ben."
"Cheerio."
"And goodbye—uh—I don't believe I caught your name."
"No, you didn't," she said.
"Right. Bye."

The best part of the rest of the day was spent worrying about filth and how to get rid of it. I mean, what if a brilliant professor overheard my exchange with Ben? I dared not think. And when night hit, I found myself incapable of doing anything other than throwing Harry's letters at the wall and watching his handwriting ooze down to the floor. This proved to be a significant social hindrance when two unexpected guests arrived just as I had forgotten to re-kempt the room. Goodness.