Butt finger

For mother’s day, my mom, dad, aunt, uncle, and cousin decided to come up here and have dinner at one of the restaurants in the little downtown area where I live. While dining at this establishment, my mother happened to glance over at the white board the servers use to reference the daily specials and desserts and what not. One of the dessert items read “Choc bourbon butt finger”. She turned to me and said “Does that say butt finger?” I peered at it, and said “Why, yes it does.” We had a bit of a chuckle over that. We figured either it had been an unfortunate abbreviation or a wicked wipe-off of the “er” from Butterfinger. Then my dad had to pipe in with “Does that say butt finger?” I told him, “We’ve already covered that: it does.” And, much like my great-aunt’s new vagina remark, the family just went off with it. At one point I belted out “Butt finger; he’s the man, the man with a stinky touch, a fudge-y touch. Such a brown finger...” complete with hand motions: it was a Shirley Bassey moment for me. My mom (!) made the grossest remark: “It says it’s butt finger chocolate cheesecake swirl.” And you know, don’t you, that dad had to order some.