Today, Calico examines the complicated and delicate intersection of marriage, shared interests, friendly competition, strange items in the news, rusty sewing needles and penises.
by Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com
My husband and I both grew up in homes where reading the morning newspaper was as important a part of the daily routine as brewing coffee or walking the dog.
As a married couple living in the digital age, we read our news on tablets or laptops, but the exchanges of “did you see this?” followed by the reading aloud of a paragraph or two of news which catches our eye are a direct continuation of the behavior we learned from sitting at our respective parents’ side, all those years ago.
Quite often, our news exchanges devolve into a game of Who Found the Weirdest Crap in the News Today? – which really should be the name and theme of TV game show, by the way.
“Oh, here’s a good one,” he’ll say. “Police advise Calgarians not to take selfies with moose on the loose.”
Not to be undone, I’ll fire back with something far stranger, like “Man steals mummified toe from Dawson City hotel’s infamous Sourtoe Cocktail.” (Side note: What’s with Canada recently? Did somebody move Florida up there without telling me?)
To win the contest decisively, though, nothing ups my game like a headline involving something truly untoward being done to a penis.
A Simple Matter Of Picking The Right Headlines
To triumph in our most recent match, I didn’t even have to read the entire headline in my last verbal volley, much less the paragraphs which followed it. All I needed were the first 11 words of the headline: “Sex mad weirdo inserts 15 rusty sewing needles into his penis.”
By the time the second syllable of penis had left my mouth, my husband was covering his ears and fleeing the room.
“What the fuck?” I heard from the bedroom, moments later. “Speaking for my entire gender, this fucking guy has totally lost his penis privileges.”
This brought us to the moment when I knew I had my opponent on the news-ropes; not only had he stopped looking for comeback headlines, he’d abandoned his tablet on the nightstand, as clear a surrender as he could muster; hell, he might as well have been waving around his boxers as an improvised substitute for the traditional white flag.
Once He’s On The Run, Press Your Advantage
I’ve never been one to quietly pocket a victory and move on, though; I’m like one of those basketball players who blocks your shot then lets you know, in no uncertain terms, just how he is to have just blocked your shot.
So, for the next couple minutes I followed my mentally-wounded spouse around, making sure he heard all the (literally) excruciating detail of the man with the sewing needle noodle.
“A sex mad man inserted 15 rusty sewing needles into his penis for sexual pleasure,” I gloated, “and it left him with gruesome infections and blood in his urine. The 35-year-old man, who has not been named, had to have an operation to remove the four inch pins from his manhood after being admitted to hospital in severe pain.”
Trying to play it cool, my husband shrugged. “Well, at least they haven’t named the poor fucker. That would really be adding internet insult to self-inflicted injury.”
In This Game, There’s No Such Thing As Overkill
In some sports, running up the score is frowned upon. If you’re Alabama, scoring 17 touchdowns on Slippery Rock A&M isn’t impressive, it’s just unsportsmanlike. In the rhetorical blood-sport of Who Found the Weirdest Crap in the News Today? however, there’s no such thing as a ‘mercy rule.’
“Doctor Cao Zhiqiang said the patient from Shenyang City, capital of north-eastern China’s Liaoning Province, had been putting them inside his genitals over the course of a year,” I continued, just as the bathroom door slammed shut behind my scrambling opponent. “He said: ‘Because of the patient’s hobby, he inserted 15 needles from the tip of his penis into his urethra over the course of a year.’”
“OK, that’s enough,” a desperate voice rang out from the other side of the door. “That’s way more than enough, actually.”
No, it wasn’t.
“As a result,” I cruelly continued, “he suffered from haematuria – blood in the urine – infections and it hurt whenever he urinated.”
The words from within the bathroom briefly ceased, replaced by an epic groan.
“For fuck’s sake, Callie,” my quarry said at last, “I need to take a piss here, and I’m not doing it while listening to about some Chinese guy passing blood out his fucking needle-filled cock!”
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