The microphone is on?
OH SHIT!
AHEM, cough, cough, we’re back from commercials now. This is Love Talk, how can I help you?
“Yeah, Laura, I guess I can call you Laura. My name is…uh…Richard, and I have a little problem. I have a rather small penis and it has become kind of embarrassing whenever I get intimate with women and they see it and, well, they start…laughing.”
Do they ever point and squint as well?
“Uh, no.”
Listen up, Dick. Actually, I should call you little Dicky. I recommend you call Suzi’s sex shop and buy yourself an attachment. You know they come in different sizes, medium, large and Oh My God! You know the saying “Size doesn’t matter”? The problem with this saying is that a man made it up. I mean if my…er…hole was the size of the Grand Canyon, I wouldn’t want a smaller one. Last thing I’d want to hear in bed is an echo in my cootchie.
And on to the next caller.
Love Talk, Who am I talking to and how can I help?
“Pant, slurp, drool, pant, pant, slobber, slobber, growl, slurp!”
Now, Archie. I’ve told you about all the problems uncontrolled masturbation could cause. Not only the hairy palms, but also the fact that this constant yanking your chain will cause a nasty skin rash. It may also have other adverse effects. I told you the other day that you could make some money as a donor at the sperm bank. The only problem I foresee is you procreating. Imagine a world of whacking-off-compulsive-assholes running around. Scary, to say the least.
“Yes Laura, I know. I’m sorry… I just can’t control it. I hear your voice on the radio. I picture you naked and…and…pant, drool, slobber, sorry to bother you again—I’ve got to go to the bathroom!”
I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, I’m sure. What an asshole.
Oh, sorry. Next caller.
“Hi, Laura? My name is Stephanie and I’m a nineteen-year-old virgin.”
Of course you are.
“No really. My problem is that I’ve met this boy and we’ve been going out for a while and, well, I’ve been a little reluctant about sex or fellatio because I have no experience and wouldn’t want to be a disappointment to him.”
I see. Soooooo…it’s a question of techniques and wanting to give him a good blowjob? I’m sure if you ask a guy, there are no bad blowjobs. Unless you have buckteeth and leave train track marks along the skin of his…ummm…penis. You know, I hate having to censor my words. Makes me sound stupid. I can call a male rooster a cock but can’t call a guy’s penis one. Go figure. Anyway, men are such pigs. They expect a woman to be a submissive virgin and a raging nymphomaniac both at the same time, the bastards. All they have to do is stick it in somewhere and they’re content. “Find me a hole”—that’s their motto.
“Laura, are you okay?”
Oh, sorry Stephanie. To answer your question, I want you to go to Suzi’s sex shop and rent Deep Throat and The Oral Zone. Keep practicing with that banana.
What a ditz. We’ll be right back after this station break.
* * * * *
“A nineteen-year-old virgin? Talk about a rarity. She must be uglier than a dead cow. I tell ya, Cynthia, I need a good fuck. I sit here, night after night, listening to this and sometimes I need to just vent my frustrations. The next guy I decide to screw is going to be lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Damn—commercial’s over. Just one last puff of this cigarette. Mmmmmm.”
* * * * *
We’re back. Thanks for joining us tonight. We’re almost at the end of the hour. Next caller?
“Hello Laura, how are you?”
Pretty good from what I’ve been told. What’s your question?
“Well, for the past few years I’ve had a secret from my wife and…well, she caught me yesterday. I was standing in our bedroom looking at myself in the mirror wearing a wig,
a bra with oranges in it, her nicest mauve silk blouse and a flowery chiffon skirt with a pair of high-heeled pumps. I’m not gay or anything like that. I just like how the fabric feels against my skin. Especially the underwear.”
What a sicko! Don’t you know you can’t wear pumps with chiffon? Are you mad? Chiffon is too light…you need strappy sandals to balance it. Good god, if you’re going to dress like a woman, don’t add insult to injury by dressing badly. Didn’t you ever watch Mrs. Doubtfire? I am so tired of these cross-dressing men, jealous of our clothes, and ruining the fashion sense women have. I mean if you’re going to walk the walk, the least you can do is dress the part right.