We’d just arrived at my parents place for Thanksgiving Day Dinner and my Uncle strode over. “So that story in your book, the one about the robot who couldn’t cum, is that supposed to be about me?” “Hey Roger,” I say, shaking my Uncles hand. “This is Shelly, my girlfriend. Shelly, this is Roger.”
I didn’t know you couldn’t cum,” I said. “Yeah, ever since I started taking those blood pressure pills. I can still get it up though,” he smiled. “I just never achieve orgasm. I can hammer away all night and nothing.” ”So do you fake orgasm?” I said, making myself an Hors d’oeuvre plate. “No, dumbass I’m talking about jacking off!” he hollered. “Oh, yeah, that would be kinda silly,” I agreed, “but in my robot story, the robot fakes ejaculation.” “Oh?” he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah,” I continue, “he discharges oil from his middle finger and flicks it on the gorilla’s back.”
- sometimes I wonder where it all went wrong…
