gremmie.net

A gTale by Pete Cerreta.

You Might Have an STD if…
(Told from partially true events)

You might have a STD - or a STI if you wanna be a dick about it - if you go to wack it and there shit coming from your junk. YES, I encountered this fate one late night and let me tell ya, not fun. I was getting ready for a daily routine that all guys do (yes we can admit it) when I discovered that I might be infected with something. Sweat poured from my forehead as I came across this sign. All I could think about is last time that I had sex - without a condom mind you. I paced back and forth trying to figure out what I had and was convinced that it was herpes. When I finally made this assumption I debated on whether to chop off penis or become a priest. I felt dirty and corrupted, used by another to become a host for open sores that would reoccur for the rest of my life. With an uneasy heart and a ton booze I nursed myself to sleep.

The next day I was still showing signs so I went to the emergency room. This is where I first lost my privacy to the public. When I entered the emergency room I waited patiently among many dirty New Mexicans, most of which congregated to get detoxed for a chronic drug bender. When they called my name I walked over to the speaker and whispered that I needed to be tested. Without a sign or warning the nurse announces, “Tested for what? Oh STD’s!??? I stood in the room with a beat red face and accepting that everyone in the room knew I was dirty-fuck-and with a calm face I gave a good New York, “Yeah!??? She replied “right this way???. After being moved through like six waiting rooms I finally made to the legit nurse. This nice Spanish lady stood about 5’1 and spoke this cute grandma English. She asked how I was doing and what my signs were. I told her gently that I had shit coming from my box of fun with a slight itch and red spot very visible to anyone who witnessed my angry Irish inch. She gave me this look of shock and pity and quickly made the sign of the cross [Ed.] and announced that she was going to pray while she went to get the doctor. I knew I was doomed, the nurse foresaw it.

I waited about 15 minutes that felt like they lasted 15 years. Every 5 seconds I pulled down my pants and questioned the red bump, yelling at it cause yeah, that would make it go away. Finally this nice tall skinny JEW of a doctor (no offense to the Jewish community) came in and asked what the problem was. I told him all the signs and he laughed at me. He then replied, “Why don’t you just pull down your pants.??? This was a sentence that I knew I would never hear again from another women if they knew that I had herpes. When I pulled down my pants he giggled, it was no shock as I wanna laugh every time I pull down my pants. He examined me and treated me for the usual based on what I had told him. I started getting curious about herpes. He was not reassuring, telling me that lots of people have herpes and don’t even know it. Comforting, DOC. He told me that it wasn’t the end of the world - yeah thanks ass-bag, I get to be Rudolph the red nosed penis. He showed me pictures of the virus and I nearly cried. Huge sores pussing on sight. Afterwards - feeling pretty sick - he shook my hand which I felt sealed my fate and said, “We don’t test for herpes.??? I left with Hospital sure that I had it and I knew what I had to do. Call a bunch of people and tell them about it. In the end I turned out okay, but you gotta watch it.

I thought the Christmas gift I recevied last year from the past’s own Missy would be impossible to trump considering both its origins and ability to cut through dense jungle thicket. Again, I was in the wrong. Yesterday Jill finally managed to have delivered my last Christmas gift and boy was it worth the wait.

This is an original Benton Lobby card framed on acid proof double-mat paper of Godzilla versus King Kong, one of my all time favorite cheeseball movies. I didn’t ask for it but Jill found it for me. I can’t imagine receiving a better present. My eyes lit up like cherry bombs when I opened it.

Here’s a photo of my grandma on her 96th birthday no more than a month ago. An avid storyteller, she’s still as sharp as a ginsu knife. Every gremmie knows that geriatrics often become borderline retarded as cenility creeps in with age. Thankfully, my grandma has not succumbed to the vespertine go-tardation. Moreover, she’s the bedrock for my entire family and the single most influential person in my life.

Then there’s Jillian Dodge. Sometimes I wonder if I’m dating Hitler or some bizzaro version of Clark Kent. Evidence below.

Whether she’s Hitler or Clark Kent, she sure makes good sugar cookies. Especially ones that look like Raphael. And especially ones she makes just for me.