This little incident happened to Grumpy a few years ago. Although the subject matter is a bit personal, Grumpy feels that, as a public service to all guys, he must come clean and be proactive. The bottom line is, “Guys, check your underwear daily. Throw out all those frayed and tattered briefs, even if it is your favorite pair; the pair you’ve worn since high school. Because, my friends, well worn underwear could be hazardous to your health.”
The Incident in Aisle 3B
I’m sure that everyone can recall an embarrassing moment that, in retrospect, seems quite funny the further you get away from it in time. For me, this particular incident occurred just about two years ago, and believe me, I will never forget it.
My wife and I had ventured out for some shopping at the local Zeller’s Department store. (Sort of a Wal-Mart wannabe here in the Great White North) Having quite different views on shopping we split up, with the wife heading for the toy department and me to the video and electronic section.
I distinctly remember watching the Good Wife turn and disappear down Aisle 3B and feeling that everything in life was as it should be; peace and contentment, topped off with about twenty minutes in an electronic wonderland.
That’s when I felt the first tug.
Well, after shrugging and tugging three or four times with no discernible results, I began to worry. However uncomfortable this felt, though, I determined I could deal with the uneasiness for the moment.
Oh, silly, me!
After about three more steps forward that little tug had escalated into a severe spike of pain. I realized now, from the feeling I was experiencing, that a rogue thread from my briefs had wrapped itself around my member like a noose. Each successive step was causing that noose to get tighter and tighter!
The first thought that crossed my mind was some good advice given to me by my mother.
“Grumpy, when you go out, please be certain to wear a good clean pair of underwear because you never know what might happen to you!”
This was followed by a more immediate recollection. The Good Wife had said to me that very morning, “Why don’t you throw out those old things and buy yourself some new ones. There’s even a hole in the backside of that pair you’re wearing.”
Despite the fact that life experience once again demonstrated to me that hindsight IS 20/20, I still had no idea what in the hell I was going to do next!
Well, like a bolt from the blue an idea came to me. I could slip my hand down there and untangle my dangle. But there were complications. You see, this particular store is populated by a gaggle of red-shirted, headset wearing (Like the GAP) women clerks, who shuffle up and down the aisle like Santa’s elves.
I imagined a scenario where a petite clerk screams into her headset, “My God, there’s a pervert in electronics playing with his package. Call security, STAT!”
Well, if I can locate the wife, I can snuggle up beside her, use her as a shield, slip that hand in and presto, I’ll put the schwing back in my thing.
Unfortunately, there was a slight problem with that plan. Aisle 3B was about twenty-five feet away and, I had to WALK there. Each step forward caused that thread to tighten further, which in turn sent a message to my brain that I know my cerebral cortex did not want to hear.
Thing-a-ma-jig To Brain: Get me out of this mess before I burst a garroted artery.
So, walk I did, gingerly, using baby steps – the kind of duck waddle you do when you really have got to go, there’s no Pepto Bismul and the washroom is half a continent away. (Larry the Cable Guy Wal-Mart stories come to mind)
I’m sure that my face was beet red. I know I could feel tears welling in my eyes. The gaze I received from my fellow shoppers was akin to concerned nervousness. If I could read their minds they’d probably be thinking things like: “That guy looks like he might have just eaten a bad burger!” or, “I don’t want to get too close to him because I think he’s gonna blow!”
Struggling valiantly, my shuffle-step-waddle carried me closer and closer to my goal. The pain was excruciating!
“Let me snuggle up to you, honey,” I croaked in a Kermit the Frog-like voice. “I can’t explain right now, but I need to stick my hand down my pants!”
She must have been thinking, “Oh, my God, he’s overdosed on Viagra and he’s got one of those four hour erections.”
Facing the Dinky Toy rack, she followed my lead, snuggled up to me, as I quickly slipped my hand down my pants and fiddled about.
Her eyes bloomed wide when I declared, “I think I’ve found it!”
In my excited state, a huge brain fart entered my consciousness. “Hey, if I just pull hard on that thread, it’ll break!”
Just before giving a quick tug with my unexposed hand a giant neon sign began to flash in my head.
“YOU ARE ABOUT TO SEVER YOUR PEE PEE.”
I stop in my tracks, and as if struck by a bolt of lightning, I come to the conclusion that this job is going to take two hands!
I thrust my second hand down inside my pants, and in a voice not unlike the scream of a tantruming toddler I say, “Honey, lean in a little closer. I can’t quite get it.”
I pull hard on each end of that tiny thread and, Lord love us, it releases with a snap.
What am I saying as the good lady passes?
“AHHHHHHH! What a relief to get that released!”
That’s when I notice that my hands are still inside my pants and my head is resting on the Good Wife’s shoulder.
The women must have thought we were freaks or a couple that is into public displays of erotic behavior.
No matter, I didn’t give a rat’s behind about what anyone else thought because I was just happy to have been able to reinstate my Wayne and Garth credentialss.
Yes, I had reinstated the, “Schwiiiiing in my ding-a-ling!”
One thing I do know for sure is that the security video from that day will forever be labeled, “The Incident in Aisle 3B.” I wonder if they show it at Zeller’s Security Training Sessions under the title “Hanky-Panky Patrols: Always Expect the Unexpected”.
OK guys, let’s sort out that underwear drawer – TONIGHT! Grumpy’s got your back.