My friend Chili Dog, (and life is always good when you have a friend named Chili Dog), came by this evening with a twelve pack of Miller Lite and, although I had work to do, I took some time out so we could stare at each other for a few hours.
At some point I remembered a German shit flick that my friend Gerry had given me. In my life, conversations can easily steer me to think of such things and I knew he didn’t have the stomach for these sort of things so I said to Chili Dog, “Hey you want to see my new promo reel?”. He said that he would, so I popped the poop film into the VCR and watched poor Chili’s countenance contort as women shit on each others faces, into each others mouths, and pissed all over each other, while in other scenes nylon rope is tied around men’s genitals while some creepy dominatrix yanks his scrotum halfway to the bathroom.
I let the film play until he looked like he might lose his dinner or his cool and, finally shut it off. I was choking back the laughs at this point, expecting the gambit of “Where did you get this?” or “Who would do that?” questions when Chili Dog looked at me, slack-jawed and said, quite seriously, “That wasn’t you!”.