Once upon a time, there was a man. The man was on a tour of duty in Italy. While there, he developed an intense love for wine to complement his love for women and for song.
The man traveled to Las Vegas on a temporary assignment, and met his future wife while carousing at nightclubs. He loved her, and wanted to be married immediately, but she would not marry an active duty military man, and he had ten more months to go on his assignment in Italy. So, the man and woman made plans for her to visit him at his home. She would live at his apartment and relax. She was just about to graduate from College, and a trip to Europe would be a fantastic way to celebrate.
Time passed, and before he knew it, there were only two more nights before the woman would arrive at Marco Polo Airport. Possibly, the reason he didn’t know it was because he spent all his time in a drunken stupor, pining for her company.
That evening, the man went to his favorite bar, and was treated to several glasses of wine on the house. After that, he consumed a couple shots of Grappa. Having tried, in vain, several shots of espresso to sober himself, he tottered back to his apartment.
Hunger struck him as he stumbled through the door to his apartment. He said to himself, “To hell with it”, and undressed for bed. Lying there, nude as the day he was born, he changed his mind. Upon remembereing that there was some bacon in the fridge, he set out to make BLT sandwiches. He staggered into the kitchen, hunger pangs wrenching his sodden stomach. Firing up the stove, he prepared the bacon, the lettuce, and the tomoto. The bacon finished frying. As he picked up the skillet to move it toward the grease trap, he suddenly became completely sober and alert.
With his impaired motor skills, he moved the hot skillet too close to his naughty bits, and caused 2nd degree burns to the head of his penis.
A few minutes later, he was finally able to control his screaming. The woman would arrive 36 hours later, so he was nervous. How to tell her that no, there wouldn’t be any sex for a while? How to explain that the scab on his schlong was not, in fact, some odd new disease, but a burn from a hot skillet? He was left with no recourse but to let the alcohol burn out of his system, and head to the base to see a doctor. He arrived at the hospital the next day. When the head nurse asked which kind of doctor he should see, he shyly replied that he was having a problem with his penis. The nurse haughtily scribbled something on her notepad, and left.
When he was called into the back room, he realized that something was amiss. All over the walls were pictures of the reproductive system. The doctor came into the room shortly thereafer, and began to explain the dangers of unprotected sex. No matter how hard the man tried to explain to the doctor that the problem he was having was in no way sex-related, the doctor insisted that he would be screened for several different and exotic venereal diseases.
After giving blood, being poked and prodded and held in ways that he preferred only to be held by a woman, he was shown the q-tip. The doctor explained that the tip of the q-tip, which was on a long stick, would be jabbed into his pee-hole. Then, it would be removed, scraping cell material from his urethra. This procedure was commonly referred to as the “Ream and Scream.”
After his ears stopped ringing, he realized that the doctor was telling him that it would be a couple weeks before the examination results would be in. He also prescribed some salve for the burn, and told the young man to be careful where he put his penis.
The woman showed up on time, and was very understanding of his predicament. She smiled, and explained that fortunately she was both tired and menstruating, and expected to be in that condition for the entire first week, which would give the young man time to properly heal.
The moral of the story? There’s two. Don’t fry bacon in the nude, and avoid dick doctors at all costs.
