I’m a connoisseur of classic jokes, especially the dirty ones. I must know nearly a hundred of them, suitable for almost any occasion. Still, I much prefer telling them to living them, as I unfortunately did last night.
One of my favorite dirty jokes is “Click Patter Patter Wee! Ahh!!” As the story goes, newlyweds move next door to marital veterans in an apartment building, with their bedrooms sharing a common wall. For the first seven nights, the older spouses hear the following sounds emanating from the adjoining boudoir: click, patter patter, wee!, ahh!! The husband runs into his young neighbor the following morning and asks about the intriguing noises. In response, the newlywed confides: “The ‘click’ is me turning off the bedroom light; the ‘patter patter’ is me running across the floor; the ‘wee!’ is me flying through the air; and the ‘ahh!!’ is me making love to my wife.”
Deeming his sex life somewhat atrophied, the older man decides to give his neighbor’s acrobatics a try. That night, the newlyweds hear the following noise echoing through the shared wall: click, patter patter, wee!, aargghhh!! The two men run into each other again the following morning, and the young groom asks about the noise he’d heard the previous night. Sighing, the older neighbor answers: “The ‘click’ was me turning out the lights; the ‘patter patter’ was me running across the floor; the ‘wee!’ was me flying through the air; and the ‘aargghhh!!’ was me whacking my balls against the bedpost!”
I’ve mentioned this particular yarn because I too am a marital veteran, and one whose intimacies also could stand a slight overhaul. And there’s no better time to suggest “experimentation” than now, during the days surrounding our wedding anniversary when Sophia becomes more amenable to a bedroom twist.
For this year’s change-up, I suggested a sexcapade similar to that featured in the aforementioned joke. Last night’s results, however, more closely resembled the older neighbor’s than the newlywed’s. While the click, patter patter, and wee! components worked like a charm, the finale exhibited much more of an “aargghhh!!” than an “ahh!!” I didn’t crack my acorns against the bedpost, but I did trip over our dog’s squeaky toy and fall penis-first into the bedframe!
According to the internet article I read today, a man can in fact break his pecker! A “severe form of bending injury to the erect penis [can occur] when a membrane called the tunica albuginea tears” and “the blood that is normally confined to this space leaks out into other tissues.”
I truly hope the forty-five degree angle displayed by Little Richard this morning doesn’t evidence a penile fracture. If so, we’ll have to steel ourselves for a lifelong disability, since this is one of those occasions where the cure seems more terrifying than the injury itself, as you can see for yourself:
What can doctors do to fix the tear?
We put the person on general anesthesia and open up the skin through one or more incisions in the penis. Then we find the edge of the tear and close it up with sutures. Sometimes these tears are extensive and span half the circumference of the penis (usually the tears are crosswise), requiring about 10 stitches.