John Alexander ~ Samantha Memi

Zwei Humorvolle Erzählungen

 

 

John Alexander

From the Bowels of Unscientific Thought – Erectile Dysfunction

 

So, after watching commercial after commercial about erectile dysfunction- I have a theory.

 

You know, they didn’t always call it that- erectile dysfunction- E-D- oh, no.  There was a time when some people knew it as “Limp-Dick-Syndrome”- L-D-S- while others called it, “Whiskey Dick.”  Though, I suppose neither of them sound medical or scientific- or suitable- enough for television. 

 

Now, this is what I’ve concluded.  Why does E-D- have to be dysfunctional on the guy’s part?  Maybe the dysfunction is completely logical and what seems to be “dysfunctional,” is the “new-functional” outcome considering the cues and the kind- or kinds- of stimulation we’re receiving- encountering.

 

Hey!  Why should it be on us?  What?  We don’t have- no, change that- we can’t have criteria for a turn-on?

 

I know you know what I’m saying.  Think about it you men out there, how many of you can say that the woman you’re with is still the turn-on that she was at the beginning?  They’ve become too fat, too ugly, too tired, too worn out- I could go on and on.  I ask you, who in their right mind would be “erectile-functional” to want to be “functional” with one of those kinds of miseries?

 

“Of course your dick’s not working!  It’s probably repulsed- maybe it’s even scared!

 

I guess that’ll be the next one- “scared dick syndrome, S-D-S!

 

Now back to those E-D commercials on television. 

 

They always have a couple who are happy and smiling.  It also doesn’t look like either one of them have to work- they’re without a care in the world- because the guy’s dick works and the woman he’s with is thrilled.

 

Lo and behold!  He’s a stud, again- well, maybe- and she’s just- simply radiant!

 

But, as you watch those commercials, you notice that although the actors change from spot to spot, two things remain the same.

 

The guy- you know, the one who used to have “e-rectile dys-function”- he’s portrayed as some- relatively- older guy.  But, on the other hand, the woman- the one who “allegedly” found a “new happiness” via erectile func-tionality- she looks like she’s much younger.

 

I mean, they don’t even bother to mix in some old ones or the misshapen- you know, the “some assembly required” ones- or let alone an angry divorcee!

 

In addition, let me say this, if the woman you were hanging around with looked and acted like the ones in the commercials- you probably wouldn’t even have to take the pills!

 

And, another thing, think about the warnings they give you.

 

“Ask your doctor if your heart is healthy enough for sex.”

 

Or,“To avoid long-term injury, seek immediate medical help for an erection lasting more than four hours.”

 

Yeah, right.

 

Those guys in the commercials, I’ll bet you they’re not asking their doctors anything- and on top of it, neither the old guy nor the woman that he’s with is going complain about erections lasting longer than four hours!

 

Would you?

 

Trust me on that one.

 

I guess the message from the drug companies is pretty clear- if you take our pills not only will your dick work- overtime- but you’ll be happy, money won’t matter, you’ll live in a place where the weather is nice and- of course- you’ll be doing the deed with this good looking, young- if not really young- lovely and happy creature.

 

And with that, I’ll say “goodbye”- until next time- from the bowels of unscientific thought.

 

 

After spending years in New York City, John Alexander has temporarily relocated to the hamlet of Getzville, New York.  He lives- and writes- there in the company of his two favorite pets, “Bunny” and “Roma.” Most recently, John has appeared in Clockwise Cat (3), Straightjackets Literary Magazine (http://straitjacketsmagazine.com/support4/between.friends.htm),  Hackwriters:  The International Writers Magazine (U.K.).  He also co-authored the online novel, entitled, “A Vow of Silence.” (www.avowofsilence.net)

 

 

 

Samantha Memi

Skippy in Disgrace

 

Matt, the local copper, was sitting at his desk, enjoying the funnies in the Waratah Weekly, when Skippy the bush kangaroo bounced into his office, stomped on the floor and grunted excitedly.

 

“What’s that, Skip? Mariela’s been kidnapped! Crikey! That's crook. We’d better go find her.”

  

He grabbed his gun from a drawer.

  

“So, who took her Skip?”

  

Skippy hissed and grunted.

  

“The Crabshit boys. That’s crook, Skip. They’re ratbags. We gotta get after ‘em.”

  

The dynamic duo rushed out of the station and jumped in the police car.      

  

“Do you know where they took her, Skip?”

  

Skippy nodded and hissed.

  

“The old red barn, eh? That’s not far, Skip. Good on yer, mate. We’ll soon get her back.”

  

Matt started the car, and they raced out of town. He’d been in love with Mariela since they were at school together. But she was a wild child, and more than he could handle. He hoped by saving her she’d show her gratitude – if only just for one night. He knew she could break his heart, but what value has a heart that cannot be broken. And he knew she knew he was devoted to her, and she could twist him round her little finger. As they raced down the highway he remembered when he watched her playing hockey and her skirt flew up and showed her fat bum. The memory raised more than just an emotion. 

  

They arrived at the barn and pulled in behind some gum trees. Quietly they crept over to a window and peered in. They saw Mariela, tied to a post, naked and screaming; her body striped in bleeding red weals.

  

Barney Crabshit, clutching a bullwhip, walked towards her, and shouted,    

  

“You filthy whore. I’ll teach you to steal from me.”

  

Matt whispered to Skippy, “You wait here, and when you see me go in, you jump through the window, okay.”

  

Inside the barn, leering at Mariela, Barney cracked his whip and made his victim flinch. “You tell us where the money’s hid or I’ll flay the skin off ya.”

  

He raised the whip ready to lash Mariela.

  

“No, please don’t,” she screamed.

  

At that moment, Matt burst through the barn doors, his gun pointed at Barney. “Don't ya bloody move!”

   

Skippy jumped through the window, paws clenched and ready for a fight.

  

“Matt!” shouted Mariela, much calmer than before, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  

“I’ve come to save ya.”

  

“Save me? You fuckwit! I’m doing a porno.”

  

“A porno?”

  

Matt looked round at the cameraman and sound recordist.

  

“I need the money; I can’t pay the rent.”

  

“But Skip said you’d been kidnapped.”

 

“Kidnapped? That’s crap! Skippy wanted in on the movie and we told him to bugger off.”

  

“Is that true Skip?”

  

Skippy stomped and grunted.

  

“You wanted to give Mariela one up the bum? That’s not on, mate. Mariela’s a lady; she don’t allow just anyone up her bum.”

  

“Especially a roo,” said Mariela. “Now get out of here, so we can finish the movie.”

  

“Sorry darlin’,” said Barney. “We only rented the camera till five. We was cutting it fine anyway, but with these gronks crashing in, we don’t have time to finish.”

  

“But what about my money?” screeched Mariella as she freed herself from her ropes.

  

“Sorry,” said Barney, “no movie, no money.”

  

The Crabshit boys started packing up the equipment.

  

“This is shit. I need the money. I’m in arrears, and I’ve got to pay tonight or I’ll be homeless.”

  

“You can stay at my place,” said Matt.

  

“What? Shack up with you and your mum? Don’t make me laugh.”

 

Mariela turned to Skippy. “You wanker: you’ve ruined my film career. If I get my hands on you, you roo, you’ll be on the barbie tonight.”

  

Bo-ing bo-ing bo-ing. Skippy hopped away into the darkening sky.

  

Mariela ran over to Matt and grabbed his gun. She fired six shots at the escaping roo.

  

As the bullets zizzed past him, Skippy realised what a disaster his trickery had been. All he’d wanted was Mariela’s big fat round brown bum, and now he was an outcast, ostracised, friendless. He hopped away into loneliness, melancholy and obscurity.

  

Matt looked at Mariela, “I know my mother’s old, and the situation won’t be ideal, but at least it would be a roof over your head.”

  

“I suppose so,” said Mariela, thinking she’d soon find somewhere better.

  

But that night, to her surprise, she realised her true life’s dream: Matt had the biggest willy she’d ever known, and boundless energy to match. Who would have thought it, she thought, as she murmured, “Do it again,” softly in his ear.

  

Two weeks after a missed period, they married, and even though their families and friends thought divorce would be the next celebration, it seems they are happily married, and regarded by neighbours as the ideal family. And while the kids watch reruns of Skippy on TV, Dad, dressed as a roo, and Mom, as Little Bo Peep, enjoy themselves in their bedroom, doing things poor old Skip could only have dreamt of.

 

 

Samantha Memi bakes & writes from England.