Local humorist, Crazy Train, joins us in the studio to regale us with stories of his mild rebellions over the years. Going slightly against the grain has always been his style; whether it’s been through making edgy teenage boy scout documentaries, or escalating dorm room rivalries to impressively messy levels, our guest is rarely afraid to be a little bit irreverent. Scroll down for an exclusive short story for YDKM listeners!
Music in this episode is courtesy of www.bensound.com.
The Little Boy Whose Dick Exploded
a Rob Scott (a.k.a. Crazy Train) Original
Young Harry Palmer was only fourteen years old the day he masturbated himself into oblivion. The day in question was a cloudless, otherwise unremarkable Tuesday. Harry arrived home from school at 4:05 as usual. This afforded him with one hour and twenty minutes with which to exercise free reign of the house and unabashedly enjoy the pleasures of his own company before his mom returned home from work. Harry was a fan of all games and this lascivious daily race was one of his favorite games of all. Harry was particularly excited for this game as a result of another game he had been made to play that day in gym class. That game was a Tug of War.
Ordinarily a Tug of War would fall onto Harry's list of games that he actually didn't like all that much (He preferred games of skill or wit to contests of brute strength), but on that day he had been placed on a team with and lined up directly behind Olivia Calderon, whom most of the students called "Olivia from Bolivia," even though she was from Uruguay. Harry had long before taken due notice of Olivia's well shaped butt and smooth, brown skin, but upon standing very close to her he was surprised at how much more of her there was to admire. So, as the game got underway, Harry studied not only the marvelous tightness of Olivia's shorts but also her solid, powerful waist which she twisted to pull back even harder on the rope. He found oddly alluring the thick tendons showing on her wrists as she gripped the rope, and best of all was the firm slope of her shoulders as they rose to meet forgivingly at the neck, where dangled a few tufts of dark fur that had slipped the noose of her high ponytail.
Harry and the others pulled back mightily on the rope, were dragged forward, and pulled back even harder. This cycle continued until the duel reached an intensity at which it could not continue, and the game must tip over one edge or the other. Ultimately, Harry and Olivia's team was victorious. The gang on the other end of the rope stumbled forward one last time and let the rope slip from their burning hands. The victors collapsed backward onto the floor. Olivia landed full body on top of Harry.
This of course was very exciting for Harry. He felt her firm butt pressed against his thigh and verging on his groin. That in itself was nothing short of miraculous, but even more surprising were the feeling of her hard, round shoulder against his chest, the back of her head on his shoulder, and the smell of her hair. These were wonderful sensations which Harry had not anticipated. Olivia rolled off of Harry just as quickly as she had fallen on him in the first place. Harry, dazed, scrambled to his feet.
"Are you going to help me up?" Olivia asked. She was holding out her hand. But Harry was too dazed and partially erect to respond. Instead he left her on the ground and left the gym.
Harry was deaf to everyone for the rest of the day. He had felt of a woman for the first time and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the mist of this new wisdom. He could hardly wait to apply it toward his after school hobby.
When school let out Harry was the first student aboard his bus. He sat in the back and waited impatiently for the other benches to fill up, then for the sluggish, yellow bus to rumble away from the school and onto the street, and finally for it to mount the long, steep hill which preceded Harry's driveway. But finally he was home. He had the house to himself, and the games could begin.
Knowing this would be an extra savory session, Harry decided to make a few extra preparations. A bottle of red wine stood uncorked and half full on the top shelf of the refrigerator. Harry pinched a couple swallows to get himself in the mood. Then he took a box of tissues and went into his room. He dimmed the lights by unscrewing one of the two bulbs in the ceiling fixture and played a soft jazz recording over his stereo. With everything prepared, he took off his pants, laid down on the bed, and closed his eyes.
He saw Olivia, from behind as he had seen her before—her neck, her arms, her back, every detail as he remembered it. He was replaying the Tug of War in his thoughts. He felt the rope in his hand. He pulled it backward and forward. Olivia pulled too. Her shiny, black hair bounced atop her head and her buttocks swung with each tug. He pulled hard. The rope pulled back. He pulled harder. He remembered the feeling of Olivia's body against his, the slick sweat of her thigh, the brief flick of her ear across his cheek. He pulled harder and anticipated the moment when the other side's resistance would break, when she would once again fall back into his arms. He pulled harder. It was almost there. He pulled faster. It was almost there.
Harry felt no pain. There was a loud noise and a very bright flash of light and he was simply gone. When his parents came home they were puzzled not to find him there. They could find no trace of him save for a pair of jeans left on the floor of his bedroom with a pair of boxer shorts still inside and some concerning scorch marks on his sheets. Harry's father suspected these were due to Harry developing a marijuana habit. They became very concerned when Harry did not return all that night or the next day. The police became involved, and a complete investigation was launched. The Palmers' home was ransacked, put back in place, and ransacked again, the woods surrounding the neighborhood were combed, students and teachers were questioned, but no clues to Harry's fate were uncovered. After six months the investigation was put on hold indefinitely due to a lack of leads. The Palmers gradually lost hope of ever seeing their son again. After some years they were resigned to the truth that he was more than likely dead. They decided to move to a new town and try to live out their lives as best they could.
Harry, for his part, continued to exist as a loose affiliation of atoms and energy, drifting through the cracks in the tangible world in a constant state of orgasm. Olivia from Bolivia remained largely unaware of the entire incident and later represented Uruguay at the Olympic Games as an indoor volleyball player. They earned a bronze medal.