Epilogue To "Six Words"

I’m really not sure how I can possibly top yesterday’s blog. I had been thinking about writing a post on that incident for a while, but decided it would be too weird. When I finally broke down and wrote it, it made for a great story…but I’m not sure how to follow that one up.

Let’s see…I guess I should answer a few questions that were posed to me, regarding the story:

1. I’m happy to report no lingering problems with my equipment. Though it took about a week before I could pee without flinching. I tell you, there’s nothing like horrible, agonizing pain and trip to the E.R. to make someone a little gun shy. All is well now, however. In fact, the whole incident had an unexpected bonus. You know those penis pills that appear all over the TV and Internet? The ones that promise to increase size? Well, they work by increasing a man’s blood flow, which in turn stretches out the ligaments. My allergic reaction caused a whole lot of blood to rush to the area. However good those pills are, I’m sure they’re not life-threatening. Meaning I experienced a growth spurt that I’m sure is not offered from any of those pills.
2. The allergic reaction was NOT caused by cheap, or bizarre, low-level condoms. A few months later I ran into a similar (though not hospitalizing) incident. It seems that a fairly large portion of the population, both men and women have the same allergy. Gives a whole new meaning to what we define as “safe sex,” doesn’t it?

Here’s an interesting side note to the story. About two months after the incident, my parents confronted me asking, “Were you in the hospital?”

“Huh?”

It seems that when they submitted me I had given my medical card which had my parent’s address on it…so naturally they sent the bill along with the results to the veneral disease tests they ran to my parents.

I love my parents, but there are few nightmares more horrifying to me than a conversation between my parents and I, which begins with:

“So I was fucking this girl until early hours of the morning. Anyway, finally when I got up to piss, I noticed how swollen my cock was.”

Yeah, given a choice between living the story and recounting it to my parents, I might have to prep the E.R. and go buy some spermicide. At any rate, I told them that I had been submitted for an allergic reaction…to sunflower seeds. Hey, it was the first thing that popped into my head!

Unfortunately, it appears that they had already gone ahead and opened the bill that hospital sent. While they didn’t contradict my story, they had definitely seen the section where the hospital had indicated all the diseases I was tested for. So now I’m fairly certain they think I was rushed to the hospital for some sort of bizarre sexual ailment. I can tell, because now they ask me about “the kind of girls I go out with” and tell me how there’s “no shame in waiting for the right girl.”

Let me explain something to you about my parents: I have never so much as smoked a joint, but my mother (who STILL smokes weed, I might add) is absolutely convinced I’m a drug-addict. Personally, I think it’s just one case of that paranoia kicking in.

At this point, my parents are convinced I’m a crack-smoking, sexual deviant. Since they never believe me anyway, I’ve given up trying to convince them otherwise, and am now thinking I might actually start fucking with them. I’m seriously considering leaving a dildo, used syringes, and a catalogue for mail-order brides in clear view on the passenger seat of my car.