This Might Tickle

Friends,

2 a.m., got my iPod on shuffle, which finally selected my one Todd Snider song , and I'm reading an essay for my fiction workshop class, trying to get my mind back into school mode and out of MVP Baseball mode. Anyways, a thought crossed my mind.

When coming back from Illinois, we stopped in some one-horse Iowa town to buy Powerball tickets, buy gas and to piss. The gas station had two bathrooms, neither were gender specific, just two rooms with toilets. I have been in dirtier bathrooms, but in this one, the toilet tank lid was bolted to the wall, which I assume was a result of some farmboy shitting in the tank, and the bolting was a preventive measure for repeat shittings. Anyways, on the wall above the secured lid was a condom dispenser, 75 cents a piece. The one of the left was Rough Rider condoms, which I had seen for sale before in bathrooms. It's kind of like Orange Crush soda...not every store has it, but you know it exists. Condom option two for the machine was something new to me. I don't remember it's name, but it was a disposable, combo cock-ring, French tickler. And I laughed so hard I peed on the tank lid.

I imagined a scene of two young, desperate Iowans, in some outlying fallow field, coupling for the first time in the back of a Buick Regency, and the boy, after fumbling with the brittle packaging of the aged wrapper, slips his gas station tickler on because the ad promised more pleasure for the lady, and makes his thrust forward to manhood. The poor girl, slick with anticipation, excitement, endless love, receives, and being her first time, it must feel like getting fucked by a cactus made by Mattel. She bites down on her lip, knowing the first time hurts, and draws blood. The guy's oblivious and, embarrassingly comes on the second downstroke. Neither want to admit mistakes, and apprehension to continue or want to try it again. The boy doesn't know what to do with the ring. He did spend 75 cents on it, and it still looks usable, so he pockets it. The girl, afraid she might be pregnant like the said would happen in church, but also cut on the inside, smiles while feeling for blood on the car seat between her legs because Papa would kill her if he found out. They hug each other and call what they did "nice" so not to hurt each other's feelings. They redress, and drive back to town flicking the radio between the Boston rock block, anonymous new country, and the dance-pop channel playing hits from today. At the house, they kiss goodnight, make promises to call each other tomorrow....

And that scene reminded me of my feelings for teaching English 101. Let the fun begin January 16th! Oh boy.

iPod is playing Uncle Tupelo right now...good iPod. I want to name a cat Slugger Mayonnaise. And I want to go to bed.

VIVA EL MUSTACHE!