SMURF DICK BLUE
This is a bit of two delicate tales woven together and true every word of it for better or worse. There is no intent here to be offensive, obscene or obnoxious. Right up front a bald confession - it’s about penises. These are sensitive times indeed. So, let’s dispose of that clinical definition of the male organ and replace it with a wispy word of whimsey. Hither-to -its schnargle…mostly
We can start with a boss of mine. It’s best if we disguise him a tad and attach the name Dustin to him. Long and short of it Dustin had one excessively active night with an inebriated banshee of a girlfriend who in the throws of one hellific moment of intimacy…well… plain and simple she broke his schnargle. No joke. I repeat she… broke… his… schnargle. Not an easy task. But she did it. These days this Dustin shares the story with pride and a beautific power smile. But that night no. At some point probably after lots of screaming, some hers and certainly most of it belonging to this now cross-eyed and howling Dustin character. He recognized the telltale signs of a most personal breakage.
Apparently when one breaks their schnargle Scherlock Holmes isn’t needed.. Dustin confessed to me - “It hurt like a SON-OF-BITCH! PLUS, more frightening the little bastard turned god damned Smurf dick blue.”
What to do? Mr. Dustin and girlfriend sped off to the emergency room at a local hospital. Which would probably be best un-named for all parties involved. (It’s CHOMP - Carmel Hospital on Monterey Peninsula, California, right on Route 68 near the roundabout at Asilomar entrance. East side of the highway.)
Dustin told me his Smurfed schnargle ached big time. He confided he no longer howled but was probably still cross-eyed from pain. But worse than that was the ER process of admission. It’s a smidgeon or two after 1 A.M. Dustin trudged as best he could to the counter nursing his wounded vital part. The human behind the counter without even looking up asked, “What is the nature of your emergency?”
Now although it was in the wee hours the emergency room was full as a friar’s belly.
Dustin sheepishly looked around and whispered, “I bruised my uh …thing.”
The woman looked up. “Sorry, can you speak up?”
His schnargle hurt. “I bruised my thing! You know. Private part.” He indicated that his crotch was involved.
“What makes you think that?”
He sighed, “It hurts like HELL and the fricken thing is BLUE!” Dustin was tired, short tempered, in pain and thought perhaps he needed more proof. He turned to face his female accomplice. He pointed at her, “AND SHE did it!”
Later in his private room Dustin was somewhat confused because although it was in the A.M. the room was chock-a-block full of nurses.
As he shared his tale with me I told him. “I know what happened. They did a 526 call on you. Every person in the hospital knows a 526 means there is something you need to see so get there ASAP because it’s always better to see a scandal than hear about it tomorrow.”
Dustin laughed when I told him that. “Yeah probably.”
Eventually Dustin’s schnargle specialist doctor showed up. The doctor informed him that he had severed his main vein and a lot else in the area. Also, that if Dustin hadn’t come in his thingie would have healed on it’s own but at a 90 degree angle. He then anesthetized both Dustin and his schnargle.
“Got a big battle scar now.” Dustin confided.
I recently spotted him in a restaurant with a female. I was a few tables away. I motioned at my crotch then at her. At first he gave me the finger under his table. Then slightly he nodded a confirmation.
I thought. Hmmm, still with her. Brave guy.
Okay, that’s dustin’s Smurf blue dick story. Here’s mine. I shared it with Dustin. Had too. I figured it was his turn to laugh.
A few years back I started bleeding from my very own schnargle. I mean big time deep red blood everywhere. Went off to my schnargle doctor ASAP. Had to do the take-your-clothes- off and put on that dumbass ridiculous backwards apron. The one that exposes your ass to the universe. Hate those damn things - useless. Anyway, I’m in my little private room de-clothed and on a medical paper-lined reclinable examination sofa. A nurse walks in (female of course) and informs me, “I’m going to give you some medicine.” She has the mother of all needles in her hand. I replied Vick’s Cough drops is medicine. Antibiotic pills are medicine. THAT IS A NEEDLE!”
She retorts, “I’m going to administer the medicine with a needle.”
I know it’s neither discrete nor wise to be surly to someone who will inject your favorite part with a pointy needle. Particularly when one is semi-naked while in a prone position belly up. She put the needle down and took out a big mutant paper clip. This she clipped to my schnargle. It is strangling my schnargle. She calmly said, “Don’t worry when it turns blue.”
Couple of immediate problems for me here. First her calmness. More pressing, “DON’T WORRY WHEN IT TURNS BLUE!” Really don’t worry?
She said, “Ill be backing a few minutes when it’s numb and administer your shot.”
So, I’m lying there. My schnargle is turning a very nice blue. And I’m apprehensive. Confession - it might not be much of a schnargle. Yes, I do not use it as much as I’d like to But I’m rather attached to it.
What to do while waiting to get a numbified blue? I can tell you what NOT to do.I know the doctor is going to put a camera DOWN my best friend. And it must gain entry by going through the working end of my Thingee. This worries me. Nobody is in the room besides me. Next to me is a table and on that table is a cloth under that I guessed were the implements to be used on me. I was nervous, semi-naked, and turning blue. I looked under the cloth and saw the camera. It is BIG and attached to a cable. HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT WORK?
Blue Smurf dick—inducing-nurse walked in and caught me wide-eyeing the tools of my destruction. She said nothing. I say nothing. Miss nurse gave me my shot because I’m the properly level of blue I needed to be. Doctor walked in and informed me, I can stare at the ceiling or watch the T.V. camera as it plumbs my depths. It will take 45 seconds. You may want to count them. Oh, don’t be concerned about the size of the camera. Everything fits easily.
Dustin is loving my story. He is laughing. He says, “I know what happened next.”
“No, you don’t!” I reply.
“When he shoved that camera in you, you pissed like Old Faithful, huh?”
“I’m surprised you know.”
“Yeah, well when they smurfed me, same fricken thing. Pissed up a storm. Horrible.”
We both laughed.
“Yeah, not a club of understanding people want to be in.”
We laughed. I turned to leave. Dustin asked, “Hey, wait a minute. What did your doctor say about the blood?”
“Uh, same as you. Broken main vein blood vessel. Just happens in some lucky people even without girlfriend help.”
The end
