Awhile ago (like three frickin' years
ago), I promised to tell three of my four best stories.
Well, I gave you all the fourth best and the third best, so here's
The Second Best......
Every year, a few of us would
take a break from the cold Virginia winter and spend a January weekend
in Ocean City, Maryland. We didn't actually go to the
beach, but rather spent a couple of days in a swanky penthouse
(well, swanky for 1953) playing cards, drinking Bailey's Irish
Cream and Miller Lites, and wolfing down Slim Jims.
Decadence at its best.
One night, I had a few too many Bailey's. Par for the course. Somewhere around two in
the morning, an unnamed women and I stumbled off to the bedroom
for a little dipsy-do, if you know what I mean. Drunk,
horny, and condom in place, we were all set. Well,
almost. With all the Bailey's in me, I was able to step
into the batter's box all right, but I couldn't hit the ball
worth a damn. So, I decided that the one thing I could do well at
that point was sleep, which I did about six seconds later.
About four or five in the morning, the Bailey's called. I
lumbered into the bathroom, threw up the toilet seat, and
started to piss. Now, even though I was still quite drunk,
I knew that when you pee, there's supposed to be some sort of
sound associated with it. Like the sound of it hitting the
water in the toilet. But I got nothing. Just
silence. I looked down.
There--on my dick--was a small
piss-filled condom.
And it was getting bigger. And
bigger.
In a mad panic, I ripped it off. That couldn't
have been a bigger mistake. As soon as I did, piss
exploded all over the bathroom like the dancing fountains at the
Bellagio. I quickly finished my peeing and slunk back to bed.
If nothing else, the next morning I would have one hell
of a story to tell.
But, of course, I
waited until everyone else had showered before I told it......
