The Karaoke Dildo

Tonight my Uncle Carlos, Aunt Kim, Aunt Kristin, and Uncle Buu flew in from all parts of the country to see my Aunt Jennifer graduate with her master's degree tomorrow. I've really been looking forward to this for weeks because everyone in my family is really interesting and full of life. Put us all together and we're LOUD.

The person who usually steals the show is my Uncle Buu. He's always got really neat things going on with his life. Currently Uncle Buu has been working undercover for the vice unit at his police department for the past six months now, so tonight he entertained us with horror stories of what goes on at massage parlors, strip joints, and the like. Basically his job is to proposition women into having sex, and if they say yes he slaps a handcuff on them. And not in the kinky, sadomasochistic way either. He only plans on doing this for another year or so, but I say any job that pays you for chasing crack whores around all day is a job worth keeping.

According to my uncle, however, crack whores are the easy part. The hard part is when you have to proposition gay men for oral pleasure at gay bars and porn theaters. Imagine having a wife and infant son at home and you're supposed to go into the back room of the porn theater, walk around with the most effeminate strut possible, and ask a homosexual if he can blow you. This is also while guys in the hallways are sticking their weiners into glory holes that lead to either other men or puppies or apple pie.

So we're all in the kitchen, and our minds are in the gutter because we're all talking about penises and cocks and glory holes and hookers and blowjobs when my mom saunters downstairs holding the world's biggest dildo. She had a grand smile on her face, holding that black monster in her hand, at least a foot long and as thick as my wrist.

Uncle Carlos burst into one of his patented explosions of laughter and said, "What in the heck, IS THAT?!"

My mom shrugged and said, "It's a karaokes microphones. We are going to sings."

Everyone laughed so hard in the kitchen that the neighbor's dog started to bark outside. Lynn covered her face and blushed. And Uncle Carlos couldn't help himself and said, "Sing? Well I ain't putting my mouth close to that thing, that's for damn sure!"

My mom's never been real good at comebacks or handling sarcasm so to make matters worse, she winked at all of us. More laughter.

And she stood there, embarrassed and not knowing whether to put the microphone down or just cry. After a couple more minutes of staring at all of us while we giggled, my mom just turned around and went upstairs to go to bed.

I felt incredibly sorry for my mom's humiliation, but oh well, it's nothing a big hug tomorrow morning can't cure. What I'm really worried about now, however, is if I'm ever going to sing "Bohemian Rhapsody" or "Creep" on that thing again, knowing now that that's the most phallic-looking microphone in the history of the universe.