Will work for Viagra
I broke my fucking ankle. That's why you
haven't seen my column for some time. Little known secret: I
type with my toes. How did it happen, you ask? I'll tell you,
but only once.
I was playing baseball and hit a frozen
rope down the left field line. As I rounded first, I noticed
the left fielder was dogging it, so I got my wheels into high
gear and tried for second base. The ball and I arrived at the
same time. The second baseman blocked the bag with his spikes.
My spikes got tangled up with his as I slid into the bag and
I heard a snap. I knew right then I'd broken my leg.
I'm only going to tell that story once,
because it isn't true. The truth is, I broke my ankle when I
fell into a gopher hole running across the front lawn of my house.
I should have broken my ankle playing baseball -- or chasing
after a burglar -- but no, I was taken down by a rodent. I DID
hear a snap, but I didn't think it was really broken. Denial
kicked in immediately. Besides, I was going out to dinner with
my girlfriend and her parents and I hate people who screw up
camping plans or vacation plans or all-night-carousing plans
and dinner plans because of some trumped-up, insignificant, pissant
accident like a broken leg.
So I went to dinner. I hopped on my right
leg into the restaurant and I hopped out when I was through.
Fortunately, we were dining at the I-Hop, so I fit right in.
(That's a lie too.)
This is true: I waited a day to see if
the swelling in my foot would go away. It could just be a sprained
ankle, I figured, and only pussies complain about a sprained
ankle. When I woke up the next day, I knew it was broken, because
part of the bone was sticking out of the skin. Yet another lie,
but I paint a squeamish image, don't I?
So... reluctantly, I went to the hospital
that night. Took some x-rays and the doctor confirmed that indeed
I had a busted flipper. Great. I hobbled out of the hospital
with my foot in a splint and crutches under my arm pits. As I
made my way to the car, I realized I had missed a golden opportunity.
I should have asked for a Viagra prescription. Why not fix all
of my bones?
I don't know if I approve of Viagra, to
tell you the truth. I believe in getting erections the old-fashioned
way. Rub a little Ben Gay on the nuts and wait for nature to
take its course.
I'm kidding. Of course I want Viagra.
I want it every god damn day. I want to eat it like breath mints.
I'm not alone, either. Make no mistake about it, every guy over
the age of 30 wants this stuff. It doesn't matter if we can get
hard-ons or not. They could always be harder and they could always
last longer.. God forbid they ever create a pill to increase
penis size. The line at the doctor's office will make the million-man
march look like a block party. Cause every guy wants a ten-inch
dick. And the guys who already have ten-inch dicks want to get
that medically verified. Preferably a note from the doctor, laminated
if possible.
Hey, when you craft accouterments that
improve penile performance, you're going to get everyone's attention.
In the Bible it says that Jesus caused Lazarus to rise from the
dead. True. But the interpretation's been distorted through the
years. Lazarus was actually Mary Magdalene's pet name for the
Prince of Peace's pecker. Lazarus rose and a religion was formed.
Coincidence? I think not.
I don't have a pet name for my cock, by
the way. If I did it would be Jack Nicholson. I don't fuck around.
Let's see. I got in my lies, my puns --
the alliteration hit an obnoxious groove a few lines back --
and now a Jack Nicholson reference. Did you miss me?
I told my brother about the wonderful
miracle drug that could possibly help me recapture the life I
once enjoyed. True, it was a life riddled with lies and excuses
spawned by countless affairs (don't call them meaningless, motherfucker),
but nevertheless a life I had grown accustomed to in my quest
for the perfect Wendy to whisk away to the Never, Never Land
of my pelvic thrust. Viagra sounded like good news to this modern
middle-aged man, and I'm singing its praises to anyone who will
listen.
"Yeah, Dan, Viagra is responsible
for 90 per cent of all new pharmaceutical sales in the past three
weeks. It even beat out crack cocaine. And there aren't many
side effects, either. One guy chewed his pill and got a stiff
neck, but that's about it."
"Oh yeah?" he asked. "How
do they determine whether you need it or not?"
Good question. Could open up a whole new
field. The registered O.N.-- oral nurse. I can see the scene
at my Texan doctor's office.
DOCTOR:
So, bubba, you think you need this here Viagra, huh? Well, let's
see. (CALLS OUT FROM THE DOOR.) Elsie, get Becky the O.N. in
here, would ya gal? Thanks, sweetheart. TURNS TO HIS PATIENT.
The nurse will come and fix you right up. I'll check in on you
after a spell. TWO HOURS PASS. How's he doin' Becky?
O.N.:
Doctor, he doesn't seem to be responding to the therapy.
PATIENT:
I told you I needed the drug, doctor.
DOCTOR:
Not so fast. We gotta make absolutely sure we get to the root
of your problem. (CALLS OUT FROM THE DOOR.) Elsie, send in that
other O.N., Armando.
The true downside to Viagra is that it's
ten dollars a pill. It's not like I never paid for sex before,
but that's a lot of money just to make someone else come.
* * *
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own. Copyright 1998 by Mike Jasper.
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