Shaven Haven

Horatio writes: Jem from New York City submitted this joyous question: Did anyone reading this blog ever get caught in the act? All the tales here are of perfect, or near perfect execution. I was never busted while busting a move. But one of the incidents that has cropped up most in my therapy sessions over the past decade is of the afternoon I went with my friend Scott to pick up out mutual buddy, Jay, on the way to school one morning. This was a daily routine. We normally stopped by his house to find him finishing off his Fruit Loops. On occasion we would even join him in downing a quick bowl of cereal when we had the time. But when we arrived this particular morning, the kitchen was strangely empty. We sat in the large wicker chairs that were arranged around his breakfast table for long enough for boredom to set in. I asked Scott whether he thought Jay was oversleeping. Scott joked that it was more likely that Jay was tossing one off.

We headed upstairs to find out who was right, creeping like Ninjas on tippy toe on the off chance Scott was. The bathroom was our first stop. Scott counted down silently with his fingers as if we were a SWAT team breaking down a door on a perilous drugs bust. We kicked the door open and burst in. And there was our lifelong friend Jay. Squatting in the corner, with his pants round his ankles and three copies of Hustler carefully arranged around him on the floor. As a piece de resistance, he was covered from thigh to knee in shaving cream, banging his schlong with a fury that could not be stopped, even by the surprise of our dramatic entry. We froze in horror and regret. Noone wants to catch their friend like this. I am not sure how we summoned the strength to remove ourselves. But we somehow made it back to the safety of the wicker chairs and the breakfast table, sitting there in silence, dreading Jay's arrival. His second coming so to speak. After what seemed an eternity, our friend materialized. His arrival all the more unsettling for the preternatural calmness he exuded. Never one to beat around the bush, he addressed the issue head on. "Guys. If I am to beat off.... And I Will... it is my business, and my business alone. As lifelong friends, and brothers-in-arms, I would appreciate it if what you have witnessed stays between the three of us and goes no further." Appreciating the solemnity of the moment, and the courage of our dear friend we both nodded and mumbled the requisite "of course." But we did not mean a word of it. The story spread round school like a good Klingon joke at a Star Trek Convention. It was everywhere by lunchtime. Was this just us, or do other people have similar tall tales?