On Inheriting Sex Toys

The other day I go meet my friends at the bar down the street. Maybe you’ve heard of it – The Pike, but probably not. They’re moving out of their apartment and discussing the need to rid themselves of various burdensome domestic nuisances (the couch, end-tables, sex toys, etc.) My friend______ mentions that ________, her roommate, also with us, has given her this particular sex toy for gentlemen. She is looking to rid herself of it. It’s an anus/vag combo that apparently feels like the real deal.

Since the sex-toy party in which the said toy was purchased, I have heard its praises sung often.

I’ll take it, I say.

Sure, it’s yours, she answers, happy to bestow this gem upon me.

I’m gonna sell it on E-bay, I say.

Whaaaaaa? That’s ridiculous. Who would buy it?

Someone would, I answer, based on my theory that anything sells on E-bay, You could shit on a plate and sell it on E-bay.

What the hell? ______, no.

Too late, I say. You’ve already offered. And to drive home the point that anything sells on E-bay I verbalize what I intend to put on the description:

Like New: Synthetic vagina/anus combination
Molded from the vagina/anus of __________, porn star/aspiring actress/part-time dancer.
Updated edition (2004) – post-rejuvenation surgery.
Been used only three times. Only took the juice once (anus).
Just like the real thing!
$200 OBO

No one is going to buy that! My friend is quite adamant.

I disagree, I say, just as defiantly.

Anyway, I’m not giving it to you to sell on E-bay. I want to give it to…someone, Her voice is a question mark. Aren’t I someone? Didn’t she just offer it to me?

You just said I could have it, Now I’m growing annoyed.

Not for that, She quickly changes the subject. Case closed.

She begins to discuss other topics: the move, finishing up school, the poor service at the bar, etc. All the while, I’m thinking, what the fuck? Here you are about to give it to me. An offer is an offer. There was a verbal contract, goddamn it! And isn’t ironic that she’d have no issue with it if I intended to take that thing home finger it till my hands were raw and lick it inside out until my tongue was sore with rubber, but because I have better things to do with my time (not to mention that the taste of rubber doesn’t appeal to me at all) and a more creative way to entertain myself (and possibly make profit), she wont give it to me!? Whaaaaaaatever.

I’m not gonna stop bugging you about the pussy ass, I said finally before leaving abruptly, See you later.

Later that same day I showed up at her house with a digital camera so I could at least take some pictures of it. She let me. Already I’ve gotten e-mails from Ohio, Kentucky and as far away as Singapore.