Hope you're in the mood for some crab! Have a seat and put your bib on.
Years ago I knew this guy, let's call him Rick. He was a cute, popular guy in the town where I lived, and while I always thought he was a little full of himself, lots of girls probably would have liked to be his girlfriend. The lucky lady, at least at the time of this incident, was a girl I'll call Jessica. I never cared for her, because, well, I like nice people.
At some point during a boys' night out in a neighboring town, Rick ended up sleeping with a girl who, even by his own admission, was pretty skanky. You could hardly blame the guy, though--he had a penis, and she was a girl...and you know how men who have penises can be when they have access to girls. He had to do it, right? I'm just kidding, I know not all men cheat. And really, if you knew his girlfriend Jessica, you'd hardly fault the guy. She was not the most dynamic individual. If you put her side by side with one of those swan ice sculptures you sometimes see at weddings, you'd be hard pressed to tell which was which, and you might end up liking the ice chunk better. At any rate, Rick committed the crime of infidelity, and karma zapped him right in the crotch--he got crabs.
It took him a day or two to realize what the hotbed of activity in his undies was. By the time he understood that insects had, indeed, colonized around his family jewels, he had already slept with his girlfriend Jessica. (Clearly, the guy didn't spend much time on his feet.) So now he had a dilemma: There was always a possibility that he had not managed to transmit the critters to Jessica during their liaison, and if he knew that for sure, he could simply treat his own infestation and she'd never have to know about his penis's wandering eye. However, there was no subtle way for him to inspect her nether regions without arousing suspicion (short of chloroforming her), so that idea was impractical. Naturally, when she discovered the growing swarm in her formerly pristine cotton panties, she would know Rick had accidentally tripped and fallen into someone else's vagina. What to do?
I bet a lot of you out there are thinking there is no solution to a problem so delicate as this. You're probably thinking to yourself that the only answer is to admit defeat--go to Jessica, head hanging in shame, and confess. Beg for her continuing love, and then head to the drugstore, hand in hand, to buy a family-sized bottle of Crabicide, or Crab-Out, or whatever it's called.
Suckers. There's always a way out, if you're incredibly slimy and devious, as was Rick. Of course, it also helps if your girlfriend is dumb as a bag of hammers. Here's what Rick came up with:
He packed a bottle of wine and a blanket, and whisked Jessica off to a local farm, where he took her into the barn and had sex with her in the hay. Then, disheveled and picking hay out of their hair, they went back into town and retired to their separate homes. Lo and behold, the next day Rick showed up on her doorstep, aghast. Apparently he had gotten crabs from the hay! Had she seen any of the little buggers on herself? Wide-eyed, she shuttled off to the bathroom for a peek and wouldn't you know it, she had gotten them too! Poor Jessica--if only she had known how easily crabs can be gotten from a roll in the hay. Well, it's a lesson learned.
And yes, she fell for it, and never suspected anything untoward of her doting boyfriend. And Rick, so proud of himself for pulling off the world's most incredible scam on possibly the world's dumbest girl, couldn't contain himself; he bragged about it to my boyfriend, and probably half the town as well--although, as far as I know, Jessica never heard the story.
What's that? You're still hungry for more crab? Here comes dish number two.
My friend Josh (as he will herein be called), was never what you'd call the choosy sort when it came to women. If you wanted to sleep with him, there was no screening process you had to go through. Are you female? Then the answer is yes. It was that simple. Are you 200 lbs? Fine. 600 lbs? Also fine. Covered in feces? Okay. Handcuffed to a corpse? No problem. Eating the corpse? Perfectly acceptable. Not only was he he a dumpster diver when it came to women, but he was very proud of it. The more objectionable the person he slept with last night, the more people he would brag to about it today, cackling maniacally throughout the narration. I have many funny/disturbing stories about his escapades, but let's not deviate from the crab theme.
One night he slept with a girl named Dana, and as cruel fate would have it, he came away from the encounter with a batch of souvenir crabs. Thereafter he loudly referred to Dana as Fire Woman, since he likened the feeling of a herd of crabs munching on his manhood to what it must feel like to have a fire in his pants. Here's how silly and naive I am: When I heard him disgustedly refer to Dana as Fire Woman several hundred times, I assumed he regretted sleeping with her and therefore getting crabs--I actually thought branding her Fire Woman was his way of saying, "You wouldn't want to sleep with that girl, believe me."
Clearly, I underestimated Josh's willingness to overlook any and every flaw when it came to potential bed partners. Either that, or I overestimated his hygiene standards.
During a sexual dry spell, Josh went to the drugstore, picked up a bottle of DeCrabifyer, or Don't Be Crabby! or whatever it's called, and headed to Dana's house at 4 AM on a weeknight. When she stumbled out of bed and answered the door, Josh was standing there with the crab shampoo in one hand and a six pack in the other, and a big grin on his face, saying, "Let's go!"
And they did. She slept with him. (But no parasites were exchanged this time. Don't you just love a happy ending?)
Stay tuned next time for Gonorrhea Monday!