|Dangerspouse Rides Again|
Garage - Track
Mar. 18, 2004 - 11:27 a.m.
Before we get to today's show, I need to ask the ladies in the audience something. How desperate, how absolutely achingly horny/drunk/bribed would you have to be to jerk off a snake? Apparently not very, in Hissandtell's case. Personally, I tend towards creatures a little higher up the food chain when I'm looking for gratification, but should you be so inclined as to join her in sexing up the legless set, I pass along one of her hints:
"For sexing juvenile snakes, though, you simply hold the snake upside-down and place gentle finger pressure just in front of the cloaca and on the tail, and if it's a male the genitals simply "pop" out and reveal themselves in all their serpenty phallic glory."
I can't judge her harshly in this matter though. For one thing, I've plumbed some ear-popping depths in that area myself. And for another, she said some very nice things about me in her next entry. Yes, plugola is alive and well, thanks. She can excite my hemipenes anytime, baby.
So how was your St. Paddy's Day?
I had to bail NewWifey(tm) out of jail.
Have any of you heard of, or tried, Comfy Cuffs? I have. Years ago, with an old college girlfriend who enjoyed them so much she kept them when we broke up. And I made the mistake of telling NewWifey(tm) exactly HOW much fun we had with them. Several times.
Guys, here's a tip from an old soldier for when you get married: Shut the fuck up.
To her credit, NewWifey(tm) never seemed jealous or disturbed when listening to sweaty details of my past adventures. I'd see a forehead vein throb once in a while, but otherwise no reaction at all. In fact, she would even occasionally ask if we could try something like that. Not that she was complaining about our once a week trysts during Fairly Oddparents commercials, she assured me. It's just that sometimes she kinda sorta wanted just a bit of variety.
"Sure baby," I'd tell her. "Someday."
And then I'd roll over and go to sleep.
Well, NewWifey(tm) had had enough of "someday", and decided to do something about it yesterday. She, being a good redheaded Irish lass, always gets a jump on the St.Patty's Day festivities by starting her drinking the moment she walks in the door, before we even get to the bar. But THIS year was different - snowfall had forced the closing of her company that morning, so the first Harp Lager lost its head at 9am.
I was due home around 10:30. NewWifey(tm) thought it would be great to welcome me home sloppy drunk and amorous (redundant). So three more Harps were downed in quick sucession. That's when she had her brainstorm.
Years before I had helped a casual aquaintance pass his English Lit course by, uh, "lending" him some of my opinions regarding authors from Chaucer to Cheever. Fast forward half a decade, and he is promoted to Sergent of our local PD. Out of gratitude for never having pressed one key on his typewriter the entire class, he asked if there was anything he could do for me in return. A PBA card, perhaps?
"I've always kinda wanted a set of handcuffs" I said.
He looked at me for a second, then laughed and handed me a PBA card before walking away. I shrugged. It was worth a try.
Two weeks later in the mail I got a package with no return address. Inside was a pair of official police cuffs, and an unsigned note that said "Don't do anything stupid".
Now truthfully, I have no idea why I wanted handcuffs. I just always thought they looked cool, and might come in handy if I ever took up magic some day. I stowed them in a shoebox under my bed and kept the keys on my keychain ever since.
NewWifey(tm) knew the cuffs were there, but we never really spoke of them. They seemed too bulky, too serious, for sex play. If we were gonna try that sort of thing, Comfy Cuffs would be the way to go.
Or so I thought.
It seems NewWifey(tm)'s breakfast 6-pack worked its usual magic and she became more and more excited while anticipating my return. At 10 o'clock it struck her that greeting her husband at the door wearing nothing but beer breath and a pair of handcuffs would be a staggeringly erotic thing. So she stripped down, dragged the shoebox out from among my Hentai collection, and snapped the cuffs on her wrists. Behind her.
At 10:15 I phoned from my studio. The answering machine picked up. At the beep I said "Hi honey, bad news. Because of this storm some of the announcers couldn't make it in. I have to stay on through Afternoon Drive. Plus, they're putting me up in a motel overnight so I can go on early tomorrow. I know that St. Patty's Day means a lot to -"
When she heard the message NewWifey(tm) butted the phone off the hook, and was now lying naked on the kitchen floor, hands behind her and face pressed to the handset.
"What do you mean you're not coming home! I'm lying here naked waiting for you, and there's beer, and I've got handcuffs on! Don't tell me you're not coming home!!"
I told her I was sorry, that there was nothing I could do about it. I was contractually obligated, and couldn't leave the studio during emergencies like this.
"Ok," she said. "Just tell me where the keys to the handcuffs are and I'll go back to drinking. Alone."
"Um, honey...don't you remember? I keep the keys on my keychain." I quickly moved the handset away from my ear.
"WHAT??! You mean I'm stuck here, with no clothes on, a dog who needs to be walked...and I've got my hands cuffed behind my back? HOW AM I GONNA GET TO WORK TOMORROW??
"I'm sorry Sugar, but I -"
I went back to work. What else could I do? It was an extremely long shift. I was on-air from 3am til 8 at night. The company had set me up with a bed at a nearby Motel-6 and a meal voucher, and at 8:05 my headphones were in my bag and my coat was on. Then my cell phone rang.
"Mr. Spouse, this is the Vernon Township police calling. We have your wife in custody. She was driving around in a pair of handcuffs, and she says you have the keys. Could you come by here as soon as possible so we can release her? She is somewhat agitated...."
I thought long and hard about this before telling the officer I'd be there in just over an hour. You may recall that when I got arrested for spying on waifs in their dainties, NewWifey(tm) let me cool off in the slammer for some time. It was very tempting to even the score. But then I remembered the cop's last sentence: "She is somewhat agitated". NewWifey(tm) when "somewhat" agitated sounds like a cat in a Cuisinart. I had no desire to see her go super-nova by refusing to spring her right away.
Just over an hour later I walked into the police station off Main Street in Vernon. I spotted NewWifey(tm) right away - she was the only felon in the cell wearing a sleeveless prom dress, and handcuffs. I spoke with the desk Sergent and he escorted her out. She was silent as I worked the key, only letting out a sigh when the metal clamps were finally off.
I asked the Sergent how much her bail was.
"Well, she hasn't really been charged with anything. We had her in the cell for her own protection, since she kept hitting things. You'll have to drop by the compound though and get her car, and pay the towing fee. Other than that, you're free to go."
We dropped by the compound, paid the fee, and drove seperately back to the house. I didn't think she was going to talk to me, but she seemed strangely subdued. Finally she explained what happened.
It turns out that she was able to get her arms in front of her, after about a half hour of struggle. Between her own limberness and the extra agility that Mr. Suds provided, she scooted her butt between her arms and then folded her body practically in half until she got her wrists past her ankles. After that, the challenge of clothing was relatively simple. Anything with sleeves was a no-go. As it was too cold for a tube top, she decided on a sleeveless dress.
The only sleeveless dress she owns is the one I call her "prom dress". It's actually a Maid of Honor monstrocity that she was forced to wear at my sister's wedding. But it looks like some 70's high school Casanova in a sky blue velvet suit with fashionable clown-width lapels should be opening doors for her every time she dons it. Which isn't often - the wedding, and yesterday, to be exact. (I'll give my sister credit though - she did look stunning by comparison to her court.) Anyway, NewWifey(tm) was able to wriggle into this thing and get it more or less aligned with her cleavage. The next trick was keeping it covering her cleavage; she couldn't zip up the back. But by holding he elbows tightly to her side she found she could keep from telegraphing to strangers how cold she was.
Next up - the phone book. She figured that a certain percentage of locksmiths would be Protestant, and open on St. Patty's Day. Bingo. After 4 calls, the fifth was an Orangeman. He told her to come right over and he'd see what he could do.
Unfortunately our Ford Escape is a stick shift. In that taffeta gown, elbows tight to her side and wrists manacled together, it was impossible to change gears. If she moved her hands off the bottom of the steering wheel her top dropped into her lap. So she drove the whole way, twenty seven miles, in first gear. At 9 miles an hour. Down County Route 94.
Actually, she only drove eight miles. At that point a cop at the end of the line of 30 or so cars decided to speed up and see if there was a problem. When he pulled up next to the Escape he saw a sobbing woman in handcuffs wearing a pink prom dress that only barely covered her nipples. He pulled her over.
To make a long story short, he told her he couldn't allow her to drive like that. He helped her out of the Ford, zipped her up and took her to the station. They called the locksmith, but he didn't make prison calls. That's when they called me. And that's when she finally lost it and started butting her head into the water cooler. They put her on a bench in the holding cell, loosely shackled to the wall for her own protection.
Well, I opened her a beer and made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. No matter how bad it is, that combo always calms her down. We talked for a bit, even laughed after a while, then I had to go back to work.
And now I'm finally home for the day.
Y'know, seeing her there in that jailhouse with tearstreaked face, hancuffed and chained to the wall, garish pink taffeta gown all askew...I'm thinkin' I mught just order those Comfy Cuffs after all. Anybody wanna go in on 'em with me? We can probably get a group discount.
In other news, I've decided to give up my job and move to Scotland to become a product tester for this company.
Hissandtell would understand.