Sometimes in life, life throws you a bad orgasm. This is a story of that.
1982. Barcelona, Kansas. The bar stinks like a cheap skunk, but the patrons are plentiful. I am sipping an opaque martini. It is the town drink. It is called 'Darkness'. It tastes how it sounds.
Suddenly an urge comes over me. The urge is to purge. I make my way to the bathroom like a fireman down a pole and piss thick yellow all over the wall of the urinal. The fiery splashback stings my mitts. The steam rises off the waterfall like souls passing to heaven. I am instantly hard.
I begin stroking my meat sword. After a few pumps, the spermatozoa are ready. But I am still streaming saintly saffron from my urethra. What would happen if I orgasmed during?
I declare 'fuck it' and let myself cum. Bad idea. The sea men mix with the lemonade, causing them to fuse together. I now have a hard icicle connecting me to the urinal. I rip at the icicle to break it, but cannot. I bite at it. No avail. I am stuck. Stuck forever.
I am now a staple at the bar. Just like that godforsaken drink. Come see me. I sign autographs. My name is Urinal Penis Man, but you probably already know that.
Showing posts with label bathroom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bathroom. Show all posts
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Ted Danson
Theodore "Ted" Danson is one of the tallest people ever made. He is also one of the most world-renowed. So you can only imagine the surprise of mine to find out he is the attendant at a gas station in Sandusky, Ohio.
I was taking a piss in the gas station rest room when he came in. He was holding a mop and a bucket. I was holding my penis. Both of us were using both our hands.
"I'm sorry, I thought the bathroom was empty," said Ted.
"I should be the one to apologize. My piss stream is near-silent. Only dogs and children with exceptional I.Q.'s can hear it."
"I'll come back later." He left and shut the door behind him.
It wasn't until while wiping urea off my foreskin that I realized who I'd been talking to. And by then it was too late. I was already back in my car, headed down the freeway at upwards of 200 MPH. For just like my father, Dale Earnhardt Jr., I do my penis-wiping while driving.
R.I.P. Ted Danson (1966-1978)
I was taking a piss in the gas station rest room when he came in. He was holding a mop and a bucket. I was holding my penis. Both of us were using both our hands.
"I'm sorry, I thought the bathroom was empty," said Ted.
"I should be the one to apologize. My piss stream is near-silent. Only dogs and children with exceptional I.Q.'s can hear it."
"I'll come back later." He left and shut the door behind him.
It wasn't until while wiping urea off my foreskin that I realized who I'd been talking to. And by then it was too late. I was already back in my car, headed down the freeway at upwards of 200 MPH. For just like my father, Dale Earnhardt Jr., I do my penis-wiping while driving.
R.I.P. Ted Danson (1966-1978)
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