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A Dildo Tale

I like to imagine the dildo was left to the man in his grandmother’s will.

“What did you get?”

“I got the TV and the sofa. What did you get?”

“The dildo.”

“The dildo?”

“Yeah, the dildo.”

“Grandma had a dildo?”

“If she didn’t she’s left me a stolen dildo.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

The answer would be a puzzled look.

Then one drunken afternoon he was telling his friends about the dildo. They didn’t believe him so the following Sunday, without thinking, he’d brought it to the bar and drunkenly slapped the rubbery wedding vegetable on the table. “See, she left me a dildo.”

“That’s great Gary but we’re going to the game. How are you going to get that into the game.”

“I forgot about the game. I’ll just leave it here.”

They teased him… these “friends”.

“You can’t do that Gary. You can’t leave Granny’s dildo in a bar.”

Gary was drunk, he has mild PTSD from spending months thinking about his granny and this dildo. Alcohol fuzzed his thinking and he started to believe them. He had to take the dildo with him. But how to smuggle it into the game?

There was only one option. He would conceal it in his underpants. The worst thing that can happen is a security guard catches a glimpse of the bulge and thinks Gary is hung like a shire horse.

No bad thing.

So they entered the stadium. They were giggling. But Gary wasn’t giggling. Gary was strutting. His bulge was giving him a confidence he’d always lacked.

Eventually they got into the stands. More beer was consumed. Gary sat in his chair, his head in his hands as alcohol coursed through him like a running back through a defensive line of matchstick men. He cannot stand but knows more alcohol still has to coarse through his system. Things will get worse before they get better. He needed to piss but knew he’s going to end up gripping the dildo and pissing down his leg. He smuggled the frond out of his trousers and dropped it under his seat, hoping his friends didn’t notice.

They noticed.

Then in some part of the stadium something was shouted. A man, who claims to be Gary’s friend but is, let’s be honest, a chancer perceived some abuse from this man. He was around friends but also suffering from a lack of self esteem brought about by his poor education in college. He yelled abuse back at the shouter and picked up the nearest thing to him to throw.

The dildo.

He is not versed in throwing techniques of the dildo. He cannot accurately predict it’s flight path and the way it will twist in the air. He throws it and the power is way above what is needed. It started moving towards the shouter but then span. Rotating through the air it flew towards the pitch and landed in the end zone.

Gary keeps quiet about leaving the dildo under the seat and his friends keep quiet about it ending up on the pitch. Yet because of the media knowledge they all know. They all know the others know. They know the others know they know. But it will never be spoken about.

That is what happened to the dildo.

10 years later Gary will meet a woman who will ask him to use a dildo on her. “No, he will say. It’s too painful.”

“No, use it on me you dumb motherfucker,” she’ll say. But he won’t hear her because he’ll be weeping.

Or maybe a kid chucked it on the pitch for a laugh or something.

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