Thanks to everyone who made it out to the story slam tonight and helped me win! The story slam is a really great event and I really encourage everyone to check it out and participate. You can learn more at https://www.facebook.com/groups/4261577055/. Below is the real life experience I recounted at the slam!
Operation Curly Sunset
Adolescence is a difficult time for young men. They are unable to trust the stability of their thoughts, emotions, or voice. Their minds are overrun with testosterone, making rational thought impossible. Their only reprieve are the few fleeting post mastabatorial moments of clarity until their minds inevitably return to the fog of naked women and the Fast and Furious.
Because of this young men find themselves doing things that defy explanation.
Things like:
Why am I in this trashcan?
Why am I peeing on that?
Why am I lighting this compacted screecheroo so close to my face?
I was no exception to this rule and my story details one of the many unfortunisms that accompanied my adolescence.
The year was 2005, Facebook was a shiny new toy, I had just graduated high school, and it seemed like youth, the success of G-Unit, and my virginity would last forever. For 5 years I had tried to get some hands on experience with the opposite sex but had only managed to get a Bachelors in Blitzkrieg masturbation from the Universities of Morpheus and Maxim Magazine.
However, I had just started my first semester at UBC and met an awesome girl who I felt might finally give me the chance to shed my virginity. I was greatly relieved at this prospect as the great masturbation marathon that was high school had left my supply of tube socks dangerously low and my spirits even lower.
But now hope had returned and everything felt amazing. I was filled with what I thought was love for this girl but truthfully in hindsight it was more likely desperation, depression, and a near constant erection.
We had being dating for a while and I felt we were getting close to dancing the dance that requires no pants. Although this prospect excited me greatly, a great sense of anxiety accompanied. Having no sexual experience of my own I decided I should consult some reference material. Luckily over the years I had managed to painstakingly build a digital library of pornography.
After analyzing the material for trends I noticed two things that alarmed me greatly. Firstly, none of the men in the reference material seemed to have pubic hair. Secondly, all the men had distressingly large penises. I became overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy and the urge to violently fear vomit.
However, at this dark moment I remembered a quote from one of my favorite books, Dune.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
I couldn’t enlarge my penis, but I could remove my pubic hair; hopefully, by some miracle creating an optical illusion. I decided to launch operation code named Curly Sunset. The little bastards had to go.
Blinded by hubris and liquor I launched the operation immediately within the privacy of my dorm room. I concluded the best tool for the operation was a power tool, my trusty Remington three headed electric razor.
An unfortunate choice.
As I brought the razor toward my scrotum I created an unexpected quagmire. Instead of a cutting action the razor performed a rapid and violent winding action exerting near black hole like forces upon my sensitive scrotal sack.
(Jammed Razor noise) I heard the sound before I felt the pain.
When my brain finally reacted to my testicular jeopardy I instinctually yanked the razor in a powerful and continuous motion away from my scrotum.
Another unfortunate choice.
It was as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I collapsed over backwards hitting my head on the corner post of my bed on the way down and began slipping in and out of consciousness as a result of blood loss and shame.
I awoke to St Peter, that’s what I call my Australian friend Peter, taking a picture of my bloody, naked, pube-less body. To this day I am not sure who was laughing louder, Peter or the razor still manically buzzing away in the corner.
Operation Curly Sunset had been a disaster. To this day my testacles still recede at the telling of this tale. However, like most unfortunisms, operation curly sunset served as a valuable learning experience. Power, speed and, force are not always the best way to solve a problem, especially when that problem involves you genitals.More importantly I learned, you can un-tag facebook photos but you can’t erase experience. The only real threat to your sex life is your imagined inadequacies.