“What’s in that black plastic bag under the bamboo, out front, on the sidewalk?” I wondered, as I pulled up to the house.
Sure, this was where I often left a pink bag for the Disabled American Vets or set out unneeded crap with notes that said, “Free to good home.” Today, at over 100°, I was not going out front to grab that bag and throw it in the trash. I slinked from the car to cool and quiet woman cave.
Days went by in which I hid in the house, avoiding triple digit temps. If I came home after an unavoidable errand to Sprouts or CVS, I might notice the black bag still under the bamboo, as I pulled into the driveway. It was forgotten as I raced from my air-conditioned car to my air-conditioned house.
Yesterday, I was walking my sprinkler guy to his truck and, as he drove away, I noticed the black bag. I approached it. I had misgivings, yet there were no flies nor ants. No coyotes, raccoons nor opossums had messed with it. I screwed up my courage and tugged at one of the handles. The bag was light. I pulled it closer. I peered into the darkness.
What was inside? Brace yourselves--
My first instinct was to throw it away. Then I decided to keep it for a future found object art project. It looked brand new.
I had all the usual questions one has after finding a huge dildo in front of one’s property. Why me? Did this belong to a neighbor? Was someone hiding it there, hoping to retrieve it later? If so, when? How long can one trust a black-bagged dildo to remain on the street?
This morning, I remembered I write mysteries. Had someone left a secret message for me inside the dildo’s shaft? I hurried to the garage, retrieved the dildo and unscrewed the cap. Only a piece of cardboard and instructions for use. No batteries, either.
Most sex shops throw in a set of batteries with a new dildo. Don’t ask me how I know. Did a kid need some batteries, so he took them, and threw the rest of his mom’s purchase on the street? I was afraid my house had been marked, like maybe I was a stop on the underground dildo railroad.
Most sex shops throw in a set of batteries with a new dildo. Don’t ask me how I know. Did a kid need some batteries, so he took them, and threw the rest of his mom’s purchase on the street? I was afraid my house had been marked, like maybe I was a stop on the underground dildo railroad.
My son, Joseph, opined that the bamboo was a natural place to throw an unwanted dildo from a car. Really? I didn't have the courage to ask. The young know things, I guess. "So how about them Dodgers?" I asked.
It’s too bad a neighbor gave you the shaft and tossed their trash there. I’m glad you didn’t pull too hard on the bag. You really used your head. Lucky thing a gardener didn't do a blow job around the area. It would have sucked if there was a dead animal in the bag. It’s late and my ideas for good comments have just about petered out. I’ve got to get on the stick and get to bed. Think I’ll have sausage for breakfast…
ReplyDelete(Sign me C A otherwise this will come back to haunt me when I'm published. The things I'd write to get a Starbucks card!)
It is impossible for me to read your comment without laughing out loud. I had no idea you were so funny, and at 2:11AM, to boot.
DeleteForget the other stuff-- you should be writing comedy.
I believe Ernest said it best. "For sale, pink dildo, never used."
ReplyDeleteTerse. Evocative and clever. Makes me nearly as sad as the baby booties.
DeleteThe "Boink" is out of the bag.
ReplyDeleteIt has a ring to it.
DeleteOr maybe Earnet would write;
ReplyDeleteFOUND: Dildo, like new-needs batteries.
It's getting sadder yet.
DeleteI think you have to have a mystery story out of this. Who would put a message in a dildo? Where would that person be trapped? How would that person get it out of his/her place of entrapment?
ReplyDeleteI don't know all the plot twists yet, but I now see it as a blockbuster movie. Sting will sing the theme song, "Message in a Dildo."
DeleteOkay, here's my honest speculation (I don't need the Starbuck's card):
ReplyDeleteA one of your neighbors gave it to his wife to have some kinky sex. She was offended, wanted to get rid of it and put it in a black plastic bag. She didn't want it in her garbage in case someone found it. You're single and adventurous--hence, you got elected.
Now, look around the neighborhood and find a dirty old man and an uptight wife. Those are your culprits.
This response beautifully illustrates your mind for mystery. I love how you think. Only problem: you have described every couple on my block.
DeleteHeroin -- black tar heroin! One of your neighbors clearly has a monkey on his (or more likely her) back. Here's the rub - it's not so easy to buy or sell the stuff. Even those fake internet Canadian pharmacies are feeling the pinch. So enterprising importers are getting more creative with packaging. And diodes aren't even on the radar of your average career customs inspector. For now, your neighborhood secret is safe.
ReplyDeleteVery creative storyline, indeed. I like it. Black tar heroin is news to me. I don't get out much. It makes me think of the Beverly Hillbillies ("black gold, Texas T"), but I'm sure it's quite different.
DeleteNew mystery: why use a pink dildo when other ethnic approximations are available?
Hold on, let me get this straight. You found a dildo in front of your 'Bush' with no batteries? This is a very bad sign, a cosmic joke. Next, you'll be finding blood pressure medication.
ReplyDeleteOh nooooooo, Mr, Bill. I don't like the sound of that at all. Could this cosmic joke signify the beginning of the end?
DeleteWhat I wanna know is how do you know so much about dildos. And... do you still have it? I mean, for next White Elephant, of course.
ReplyDeleteIt may have belonged to a pink elephant, come to think of it. I'm keeping it for a future art project.
DeleteFrom an anonymous reader: Loved your blog about the bag! Makes 9th Street seem more exciting somehow.
ReplyDeleteYes, indeed-- the black bag makes 9th street SEEM more exciting. I'll let you know when it actually IS more exciting...
DeleteI want to comment on your most recent post, but the intro paragraph made me read the previous one (which I lamedly did not read when all the exciting commentary was happening!!)
ReplyDeleteMy favorite line was when you were asking yourself all the "obvious" questions one would ask in your situation...too funny!
How come I can't find something so...well something that will remove my ennui!
Be patient, Charlotte, as you too may receeive an ennui-busting surprise. I was thinking about the craze when church members were placing pink flamingos on people's lawns in the dead of night. People woke up and realized they had been 'flocked". The idea was to send in a donation to the church and plant the pink flamingos in someone else's front yard.
DeleteNow just imagine, your friend has been pink dildoed. You might soon wake up to a "flock" of ping thingies all over your front lawn. You can make out your donation cheeck to "Marta the Pious", then pass the flock along to someone else. Someone with the initials JM comes to mind.