“Of course.”
“Zander and I met at the gym about a year ago. I’d just finished my workout and had walked into the locker room to shower when, lo and behold, what did I see but a big, muscular black man standing buck naked in front of the locker next to mine.”
Zander chuckles.
Keane continues, “So I go to my locker and strip down to my glorious birthday suit—the sight of which, by the way, has made many a woman spontaneously orgasm, I should mention; but, just before I head for the showers, I happen to glance at Zander’s flaccid dong. And guess what I noticed about it?”
I cringe. “Um... I really don’t... feel comfortable guessing, actually.”
“Zander and I had the exact same dick-tattoo!” Keane blurts.
Everyone bursts out laughing, including me.
“Oh my God, Peenie,” Zander says, laughing and shaking his head.
Keane continues, his eyes full of mischief: “Now, mind you, at the time, both our dicks were playingCrouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, so our tattoos at that particular moment read ‘W-D-Y.’” He leans forward like he’s telling me a secret. “When I’m at full mast, my dick-tattoo says ‘Wendy.’”
“Wendy?” I ask, giggling.
Keane nods. “My high school sweetheart and first love—the woman who so deftly stole my heart along with my virginity, the very beautiful and surprisingly flexible, WendyJohnson.”
Everyone laughs uproariously.
I don’t know where Keane’s ridiculous story is leading, but I must say I’m feeling highly entertained along the way. “Wow, Keane,” I say. “What a romantic gesture. The guy who took my virginity gave me a bag of pretzels and a Coke.” Everyone guffaws at that, and I feel elated to be able to make this particularly funny crowd laugh out loud. “I wish I were joking,” I add dryly, and everyone laughs again.
“Gosh, Peen,” Dax says. “I sure hope Wendy Johnson appreciated your tribute to her.”
“As a matter of fact, no, Wendy Johnson, didnotappreciate the heartfelt sentiment of my penis art,” Keane says, looking appropriately forlorn. “A week after I got my pecker inked for her, Wendy dumped me to go to prom with another dude.”
“Oh no,” I say, but, of course, I’m smiling when I say it. “You must have been devastated.”
“I was. Although I had to tip my cap to her prom date. You know whatthatguy’s dick tattoo said?”
I shake my head, already giggling in anticipation of whatever he’s going to say.
Keane pauses for comedic effect before saying, “‘Prom?’”
Everyone laughs uproariously.
“So, anyhoozles,” Keane says when the laughter has died down a bit. “Back to Zander and me and the inception of our bromance. So ZZ Top and I are standing naked next to each other in that locker room, pretty much crossing swords, and I look down at his flaccid dong with ‘W-D-Y’ inked on it, and I’m like, ‘Twinsies!’”
Oh, man, it’s quite possible Keane Morgan is the goofiest human I’ve ever met. How the hell is his ridiculous personality packaged inside a body that looks like Captain America?
Keane continues, “So I go, ‘Hey, dude, I think we should be best friends.’ And Zander goes, ‘Let’s get an apartment!’ So the next day, we get an apartment and I’m thinking, ‘Life can’t get any better than this. When sex isn’t involved, of course.’”
“And, just to be clear, all this bonding was inspired by nothing but matching dick-tattoos?” I ask.
“Correct. So, Z and I become besties and we’re handsome and happy lads all the livelong day, both of us raking in the duckets by the buckets and making chicks our bailiwicks, until one tragic night when everything went to hell in a handbasket on us.”
“Uh oh,” I say. “What could possibly have gone wrong?”
“Thanks for asking,” Keane replies. He leans toward me, an adorable expression on his face. “This works best when I have an interactive audience.”
I laugh.
“So here’s what happened,” Keane says. “Z and I were lying on our couch, talking about girls, smoking weed, and I go, ‘Hey, Z, I just realized I’ve never asked you about your ‘Wendy’ tattoo. And Zander goes, ‘Wendy?’ So I say, ‘You know, whatever Wendy inspired the ‘Wendy’ tattoo on your dick.’ And Zander replies, ‘My dick doesn’t sayWendy.’ And I’m like, ‘But your tattoo says W-D-Y, just like mine!’” Keane pauses and smiles, his eyes sparkling. “And you wanna know what Z said then?”
“No, Peen,” Dax says dryly. “We’ve made it this far into your stupid fucking story and we don’t wanna know what Zander’s dick tattoo said.”
