The Grim, Final Appearance Of My Dick In Public

Oh, these cocksuckers in Utah, they deserve all the bad press they get and then some. Not the general public but the Pilgrims and eunuchs that make the rules here. If AIDS monkeys were running amok with gnashing teeth in the Capitol building or the Mormon Tabernacle and I owned the only BB gun in town, I would not relinquish the key to the cabinet.

"This squirrel is all Aidsy and now it's got hold of my eye!", the Mormon responsible would scream, rolling around on the floor of Parliament or whatever, bloody in his powdered wig. I say nothing and walk away.

Dr John is a fine citizen of this Earth and also a smut entrepreneur of unequaled integrity. He runs smut shops, Dr John's Lingerie and Adult Novelties in Omaha and now Midvale, Utah, or at least he tries to. I first heard of him when I was playing Jokers Comedy Club in Omaha where Dr John was being brutalized and beaten down by a puritan City Hall and it's team of vice cop flunkies. Evidently making a large rubber phallus available to the upstanding folk of Nebraska threatened the wrong people in high places. He was arrested on a variety of obscenity charges and, at this writing, is appealing a 15 month sentence....for selling dildos.

Dr John moved on to Midvale, Utah, another place with a glaring absence of vibrating latex or any other product that might make one remember that "sex" thing that has been so popular in other regions of the world. I happen to play this Midvale as well and stay directly across the street from his shop. They didn't take kindly to him there, either, and immediately started harassing him through any means possible from fines to vice stings to general police harassment. The last time I was there, they had a cop stationed in the parking lot across the street every single night when I was coming home, no doubt to dissuade anyone who may have drank away some of their Mormon-enforced inhibitions from risking DUI in order to have something soft to accompany their genitals.

On hearing about his arrival and subsequent canoodling by the powers that be, I again took up his cause in my shows and on radio as I had done in Omaha. Dr. John had hooked up a cross-promotion with Spin, the owner of the Comedy Circuit, who would pass out all sorts of complimentary adult products from Dr. John's during the show and I finally had a chance to meet the man. He was everything you'd expect from a smut-peddler. Round, bald, bloated, clammy and a bit high strung but really, really eager to please. Extremely generous as well, I found out the next day when I visited him at the "boutique". I call it that because it's not a skeezy jack-off joint. There are no viewing booths or live nudes. It's a boutique. A boutique that sells remote-controlled, vibrating leather underwear but a boutique nonetheless. He loaded me up with any and every free item I could imagine. If my girlfriend might like it, if I could bring it on stage and make a joke out of it or if it might simply fit in my ass, he gave it to me and wouldn't take a nickel.

That night John came to the show, a special show, the 10th Anniversary of the Comedy Circuit that promised to be, if nothing else, very, very long. Spin had brought in Carl Labove, Ludo Vika, and Lonesome Dave to fill out the bill for the big event. The show lasted 3 hours. John took us all back to the store afterwards for celebratory cocktails. The store has offices on the second floor that look out over the front counter and part of the showroom. We all sat in one of the empty offices, Spin, Carl Labove, Ludo, Lonesome Dave,and Dr John, along with a couple other Comedy Circuit staff and a few cases of beer and we proceeded to beat our livers like mouthy wives. All the while we are sitting behind a security window watching fine Mormon couples at the counter below discover lubrication and other brave new ideas. At one point Corey from the club leaned over and banged on the one-way glass while an overweight girl and her boyfriend who could have been the abusive guard in any bad prison flick were stocking up on Anal-Eaze and 3-X crotchless support hose. The guy was wearing a handgun in the small of his back, more than likely just for the trip to the porn shoppe. "Ok baby, we'll go get you a nighty," he'd probably said as he loaded a fresh clip, "but if any faggots in there look at me...".They looked around self-consciously, as anyone would do in this place, wondering who was trying to get their attention. I stood there, behind mirrored security glass as they stared up, dropped my pants and pressed my cock against the glass. They continued to look around like cows and we all had a little chuckle.

None of us ever gave it a second thought as we continued getting piss-ugly trashed. Not another thought til a sweaty and wide-eyed Dr john came running in, half laughing, half screaming, "What the hell are you doing showing your cock to the customers?!?!". Evidently, what I'd assumed to be mirrored security glass was not that at all. It was good old-fashioned, see-through, clear-as-day, squeaky clean glass that I'd been pressed against with my pants down like a naked Dustin Hoffman in "The Graduate" to the horror of the wholesome Mr. and Mrs. Packinheat. I told John that I'd thought it was one-way glass and he said that I shouldn't worry about it, that he'd given the guy his order on the house to placate him. Again, we had a chuckle, never gave it another thought and finally I got as drunk as one man can get on 3.2 beer without bursting from the quantities.

The party started to break up as we went downstairs. Dave and Ludo went into a back storeroom with Dr John to pick up some complimentary smut tapes while Carl and I took the opportunity of being alone and did some shoplifting. Dr John would have given us anything we wanted but sometimes it's more fun to steal. Besides, there are some things you don't want a guy to know you're using. So while they were still in the back, we went out the front with our booty. Carls "booty" consisted of a pair of silky panties that he was now wearing over his shaved head. I had my things under my black overcoat as we headed for the car. We sat down in the car to wait for Dave and Ludo when three police cruisers pulled into the lot, parked and headed into the store. Afraid that the state legislature had made some late-hour ruling against rubber vaginas that was now going to be enforced by all available officers, I waited for them to get inside and ran back across the street with my wares back to the condo where I waited for the rest of the crew.

About fifteen long minutes later, Carl returned, still wearing the panties on his head as he had done throughout his entire conversation with the Midvale police. They had come, not to raid the place, but to investigate a report of a man in a long black overcoat who had exposed his penis! That gun-toting piece of shit had taken his free goods and called the cops anyway! What the fuck is that? That's like eating your entire meal and then having it taken off the bill!. And he called the cops because he saw a dick in a smut shop! If there is one thing you can be guaranteed to see in a smut house, it's COCK! Pocket pussy, maybe. Anal beads, perhaps. Big Rubber Fist, on a good day. But DICK? Every shelf, every direction. At what point had he seen too many? "Well what do we have here? Dick, dick, dick, dick dick, dick, double-dick, dick dick, strap-on dick, dick dick.... Hey, what's that? Look up there! It's a diiiiiiiiiiiiick!!! Hello, Rescue 911? Hurry, quick, there's a diiiii! iiiiick!!!"

Fortunately I was gone when they got there. That was the good news. Even more cops had shown up after I left, six or seven total, leaving me with the impression that the size of my cock must have been really blown out of proportion in the report. The bad news was that Lonesome Dave Conrats had made the poor fashion choice of wearing a long-black overcoat just like mine and had been promptly and viciously detained by Midvale's finest. And to hinder him even further, he's a piss-poor drunk and only got surly with them, refusing at first to show them any ID or cooperate at all. He did not know what had happened, all he knew was that he didn't do shit and didn't care for these pigs saying he did. It had, by all accounts, gotten very ugly, with Dave barely avoiding arrest. He didn't know that it was me all along. He would have turned me in if he had. Only afterwards did he find out and now Carl was warning me that I may want to hide under a bed or something, cuz Dave was violent, drunk and looking for a fight. You could hear him from the parking lot when he got there, screaming and hollering to Ludo, his wife, that he was going to kick the shit out of me and his wife threatening to kick his ass if he did. Finally, I told him to just come up and kick my ass quietly in the apartment so the neighbors could sleep. He came in the apartment and continued to slur and fume. He'd drink a beer and start to calm down then he'd do more coke and get mad all over.

"Well what the fuck?", he'd stutter and half-yell. "You pull out your... your fucking dick? What is that? I don't get it?" As though there were some deeper meaning. "You got me arrested, you fuck!" I pointed out that he hadn't gotten arrested. "Ya, well they wrote down my fucking name, man!" I continued to apologize just to shut him up but it only irritated him further. I decided not to argue and let him sleep it off. The guy is burned out, washed up and in bad shape anyway. I knew as drunk as we both were, it was best to go to bed. Who could be mad about something so ridiculous the next day?

Lonesome Dave could. Still just as angry the next day. Having his name on a notepad in some cop's pocket somewhere had turned this man into a hysterical housewife.. I apologized again and he said that he appreciated the apology but that he was still angry and would continue to be angry. "I still don't get it. You... pull your dick out???". He was saying it as though I'd raped a kid as a goof. I was at a loss for words.

I'd already been warned by the city of Midvale after my first appearance at the Comedy Circuit eight months earlier. At the end of the show, Spin, who sings and dances in his act as house MC, brings out the comic to take a bow. Then he does a little dance move and points at you to dance a little dance move in return. Not being much of a dancer, I decided instead to just pull my dick out. Spin had me do it the rest of the week. When I returned a month later, he had a letter from Susan B Shreeve, the business licensee whore who had gotten a complaint and threatened to pull his beer licensee should it happen again spent all of that week with the letter on stage trashing her mercilessly. Ironically, her husband is a sergeant with the Midvale Police and was the one trying to take Lonesome Dave downtown. Coincidence? Or Cock-Haters?

The Shreeve family is dedicated to keeping dick out of the eyes and minds of the good folk of Midvale. Shortly after that week, Spin received another letter from Susan B Shreeve saying that if he continued to hand out marital aids during the show he would have to relinquish his liquor licensee and apply for a sexually-related business permit, the same permit that they refuse to give to Doctor John or anyone else for that matter. The reasons for their commitment to a cock-free society are unknown. Maybe they were attacked by cocks while walking through a bad part of town one night.. Maybe the lady Shreeve had a cock-monster living under her bed when she a little girl or her husband, the sergeant, may have been raised by an abusive, even alcoholic cock who beat him unmercifully. Whatever their reason, it must have been some mean, dirty cock that got in 'em to make their constitution so strong.

After that whole fiasco, I decided it was a good time to retire my cock from the public eye. The return of my cock to Austin the week before was a shambles, the sequel never being as good. In short, my cock, while remaining troublesome, had gotten boring. This night made for a proper exit from show biz for my lowers, at least in a George Foreman kind of way. My agents say it's only a matter of reinventing my cock, giving it a new image. We'll see. All I know is that I don't have the backbone of guys like Dr. John who spend their lives fighting against things that may seem ridiculous to some. The fact that a man may spend time in our brutal prison system so you might bring your wife to orgasm may seem silly to you. But those are the true heroes. People like Steve and Susan Shreeve should be stricken with AIDS babies and bad teeth.


To send a note to Sergeant Shreeve: