Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Tonight's Tale from the Porn Store- This one's a long one

Once I established myself as the resident "freak on a leash," that is, someone who wasn't ashamed/embarrassed/disgusted at the items/videos/magazines we sold, and who had made some awesome strides in creating repeat customers with product and technique knowledge, I was given some new duties.

New duty number 1: We sold a ton of DVDs, many of them 2-6 hour marathon clip DVDs. A problem with these tends to be that the studios try to sneak in some questionable-if not illegal- content. Someone had to verify that no actual sex with the dog or horse or donkey on the cover occured. Guess who got to watch these? That's right, me. Let me just tell you, this was horrible. I would get compensated for my time, but nothing can erase some of the images from my brain. So, I would come home and unwind, then throw in a dvd, most of the time fast forwarding through the scenes, but some of them I had to seriously watch.

A note on the Tri-Cities: A lot more people than you would think want to see people having sex with animals. I swear I was asked several times a week if we had anything like that. The worst day for these inquiries, funnily enough, was Sunday, when they would release the men from the VA, and they would storm the store like the beaches of Normandy. Trust me when I say watch yourself around dapper looking gentlemen in bow ties, because they may do something horrible to the family pet.

Back to the story at hand: Not only was the content of these DVDs awful, but so was the actual quality; skipping video, and erratic sound. This was problematic for me, because I lived in a crappy little apartment close to the college that was one of three in a renovated house.

Our walls were so thin that when I would be getting ready in the morning, I could hear the dude next door cursing at his computer as if we were in the same room, and sometimes if the light was right, you could see light from next door seeping through the paneling.

This was also during the high summer, and the windows were open since there was no air conditioning. Needless to say, I would have the volume as low as possible, but then the sound would dip. I would turn it up a little so I could keep track of what was going on, but invariably when the next door neighbor would come onto the porch to check his mail, which was right next to the living room window, the sound would blare, and I would panic, and mute the damn thing. Not fun, especially when he would meet me outside sometimes, and give me creepy grins and nods. Thankfully, I never did see any illegal activities, because I don't think I'd be here if I had.

New duty number 2: Home parties! I was selected to be the exhibitor at the home parties. You all know what these are like; basically they're perverted tupperware parties. Lots of fun, especially when you can get the ladies to relax and have fun, I mean come on, we're tasting flavored lubes and I'm showing you the 88 different speeds and variations of the super dildo deluxe, let your hair down a little!

The last home party I did was a bachelorette party. Those ladies had an absolute blast. We made tons of sales and the bride-to-be and her friends thanked me profusely, and invited my manager and I to stay and have supper. The maid of honor took me aside and said that she had hired a male stripper, and we were welcome to stay and watch the show as well. Naturally, we agreed.

Oh, but we shouldn't have.

Firstly, he was late, and when he finally arrived, we were all taken somewhat aback, as he didn't look like a male stripper should look. He looked like Riff-Raff from Rocky Horror minus the hunchback; tall, whip-thin, long greasy hair, hawk nose, bad teeth...it was bad. Of course, I had to see this. We all piled into the room, and he had a pizza box. He handed it to the bride-to-be, and she opened it. Not only was it a used pizza box, with remnants of the pizza clinging to the bottom and the roof, but he had scrawled some message on it in ballpoint pen to the effect of, "I ate your pizza, so here's your pie" or something ridiculous like that.

Then, he started his music. Kid Rock. Then, he started trying to dance. I say trying to dance, because with all the clothes he was wearing, he couldn't do much more than stand there and wiggle a little until he shed some layers. He had on a pleather duster, a button up flannel shirt, black jeans, and hiking boots. This was only the beginning, though. He got rid of the coat and shirt quickly, and he had on a paisley vest under the shirt. Ew. He had to kneel down to take off his hiking boots, then he got his jeans off. Underneath the jeans? Long johns. I wish I was making this up. So now, he's down to the vest, the long johns, and his socks. He whips off the vest, and pulls down his long johns to reveal his posing pouch.

I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing and couldn't stop. I had to leave the room. The man was wearing a silk posing pouch that had been airbrushed with a jungle scene featuring a leopard. I have never seen such fear and dejection in a creature's eyes before, and doubt I ever will again. As I was trying to leave, he turned around and wiggled his butt at me. His butt was worse than the pouch; it was as if someone had hurled two handfuls of biscuit dough onto a 2x4 and let them sag there.

The maid of honor followed me out, and she was on the phone to the agency immediately, and was using language unbecoming of a lady while expressing her displeasure with the entire scene. We're in the dining room, and he comes out, asking if we want another set. "NO!!" we scream, and he leaves, and we lock the door behind. My manager and I stayed behind until the taxi came and took him away.

We drove back to Johnson City in silence, put away all the unsold product, and I went home. Sadly, I didn't have enough alcohol in the house to wash away the night.

I suppose that's lucky, because if I had, you wouldn't be laughing now.

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