I begrudgingly roll out of bed, not yet ready to greet the day. I felt like I would rather put my face through a meat grinder than go to work.
It was about 8:00 PM, and I worked the 9:30 PM to 9:30 AM shift. That’s 12 straight hours of mindless PowerPoint-making, staring at screens, and wishing there was a way out other than grabbing a cake knife.
Put my Pandora on loud music to wake myself up, and go to my shower to turn the water on to wait a few seconds for it to heat up.
When I opened the shower door, I saw something.
It also saw me.
THAT was waiting for me in my shower. At eye level.
A rather large black dildo, suction-cupped to the wall, ready to poke me right in the eye should I dare to enter my shower to clean myself and sing along to Kelly Clarkson.
My initial reaction was of shock and fear. Someone entered my home without my knowledge and placed this here. That reaction only lasted a second or so, which quickly turned to a mixture of exasperation and the appreciation of a good prank.
I called the person who I knew was responsible. He was at work.
Locke “You’ve reached Command, Destroyer Group 4, Intelligence Department. This is Petty Officer Locke speaking; how may I help you, sir or ma’am?”
It’s the standard mini-speech you’re supposed to give every time you answer the phone in a military context. I listed a fake command in this story, though. DESRON 4 apparently hasn’t been used since World War II so I figure that’s safe.
Me “Locke, you jackass. I got your little fucking present you left me.”
He starts laughing. I knew it!
Locke [barely able to contain himself] “What are [laughing]… what are you talking about?”
Me “I went to take a shower, and there is a giant, black, suction cup dildo hanging on my wall.”
He is dying of laughter.
Me “I know it was you! You were just in Oregon on leave, and the only place you would get some sort of novelty item like this would be at a joke shop in America. You’re not going to get something like this in Japan.”
Unless it looks like a 13-year-old girl or has tentacles, males in Japan aren’t too interested in sex. Or all that attractive to women; as a whole they have extremely passive behavior. If you see a man who looks like he has actual assertive confidence in Japan, he’s probably Yakuza.
Locke [still laughing] “What do you mean ‘novelty item?’ “
Me “It’s a suction cup dildo! Suction cups don’t stick to the human body, and this one’s suction part is too small even if it did! You can’t even use it for anything. Which means it’s a joke item. If you were to find a sex shop in Japan, it’s not going to sell prank items. That’s the sort of thing you’d get at Spencer’s, in the States. You were just there. It’s not a coincidence. I know it was you.”
Locke [still laughing] “You are so naive sometimes, Adam.”
This is what happens when I watch too much Sherlock Holmes but don’t actually know what I’m talking about. You can see the logic in my analysis, but it’s so fundamentally wrong.
Me “What? Whatever, bye. I know it was you.”
Well great, now what am I going to do with this thing? I have to get rid of it. I need to actually take a shower before I go to work (where Locke was).
But I am not touching that thing!
I grab a plastic bag and wrap it around my hand, like I’m preparing to pick up dog shit.
I stare at it, mostly feeling utter disbelief that my life has brought me to this point.
I reach inside the shower to lightly knock it off the wall so it would fall to the floor, and as my fingers brush up against it, it moved a little bit.
“No! Fuck this! This is bullshit! What the FUCK!”
Too much! It was too much for me! I knew it wasn’t coming off unless I wholly wrapped my hand around it and pulled it out like I was uprooting a carrot from permafrosted ground.
So… that’s what I did. I gripped that oversized black rubber penis right around the base of the shaft, and yanked it off the wall. It had invaded my life and privacy for the first and last time, ever. Wrapped the bag around it like a contaminant and continued on with my morning/evening/whatever.
I got to work, and since Locke and I worked in the same area, I went over to his desk where he was sitting. The dildo was still wrapped in the plastic bag, so I held it up and let it drop onto his desk with a dramatic ‘mic drop’ thud.
Me “You forgot this.”
He looks very amused with himself, still laughing.
It was definitely him. That son of a bitch.
— — — — — — — — — —
Later, I was telling the story to someone else, and as I explained why I thought it was a gag item (a joke item; not something to literally gag on), she informed me why Locke called me naive.
Me “It doesn’t even make sense as a thing! You can’t stick it to yourself and use it! The suction cup part isn’t big enough or strong enough. That’s how I know it was bought at a prank shop. It had to be him.”
She looked at me with a pitiful look on her face, like I was an innocent child.
Kat “Adam… you don’t stick it to yourself and use it. You stick it to the wall and then… then you use it.”
Me “…(Long pause)… ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
— — — — — — —
While I was migrating this story from my old Blogspot address to this site, I double-checked the picture link to make sure it still worked.
Well, it didn’t.
So if I want to include a picture (and I feel like it’s pretty necessary to umm… grasp the full girth of that story) I have to go find a new link.
Easier fucking said than done.
First thing I did was google “black suction cup dildo.” I tried a few random sex toy websites without any luck, so Amazon seemed like the most reliable place to find it.
But I wanted the exact one. You know, for accuracy’s sake. So I really had to comb through the search results. One question I still have: why would someone purposely buy a 5½-inch dildo? I mean what’s the point when there are so many 7-inch or 8-inch models for the same price? That’s 50 dollars for a t-shirt.
Then a second thought occurred to me. “Great, now this shit is going to show up in my ‘recently viewed’ list.”
I’m gonna be sitting there at work, ordering some headphones or whatever, and someone is going to walk by and see the “inspired by your recent shopping trends” section filled with dirty, filthy, plastic penises.
I’ll then have two options:
(1) Let them believe that I’m simply the type of dude who buys big black dildos.
(2) Assure them, “No! No! Let me explain! It was research for my website sixhourboner.com!”
The decisions I have made in life have led me to this point. I can blame nobody but myself. And as you can see at the top of the page, I didn’t find the right one on Amazon anyway.