Thursday, May 24, 2007

Ten Little Indians (Or, An Oldie, A Goodie)

This is an ancient story, but one I have found myself retelling often. Here goes...

Nearly a decade ago, I was in Key West with some friends for a few days. The guest house we stayed at was located conveniently/inconveniently across from the local Ye Olde Sex Shoppe / Leather Boutique. My friend Lucas and I found ourselves tipsy with some time on our hands one afternoon, so we went in.

Close to the front of the store was a huge glass display case filled with a variety of dildos, vibrators, plugs, et. al. Lucas, never shy, stared agape at a huge molded rubber fist. He burst into laugher.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lucas said. "What the Hell are you supposed to do with that?"

The very serious sales representative behind the counter replied:

"What the Hell do you think you do with it?"

Lucas then got to giggling about the larger end of the molded, rubber spectrum of products on display. The super serious sales guy was, once again, not having his giggle fit.

"Hey, " the sales guy said to Lucas. "I have something that's more up your alley."

I'm sure he intended that pun.

Lucas scurried over to the other end of the display case as the sales guy got something out of a drawer behind him.

He pulled out a keychain that had a teeny, tiny, itty, bitty little dick attached to it.

If Malibu Ken had a dick, this baby pecker would be it.

"I think you should buy this, " the sales guy said.

"It's for people who forget they have fingers."

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