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The Fleshlight Box Incident

Not so long ago, the good people at Fleshlight got a hold of me and asked me if I’d like to review one of their newest products, the Alexis Texas Fleshlight, because I’m a journalist who reviews wang sleeves and then shares the results with you, my loyal fanbase.  And I’m really good at it.  This article was going to be a hilarious  account of something or other to do with said Fleshlight.  I’m going to be honest I hadn’t even thought of an angle when something transpired.  Something at once horrible and arguably hilarious.  I could only react in one of two ways – lock out the events entirely, or transcribe them into an article at the risk of my own personal safety.  I chose the latter.  Now let me explain how one cardboard box has forever changed my life.

This is the box my Fleshlights came in.  They sent me three.  This fact will be significant later.  Now I want to show you another box.

This box here contained a USB key that looked like Yoda.  It had a number of photographs on it.  The photos were of family.  This fact will be significant later.

As some of you know, I was not created in a comedy lab by top hilarapists.  In fact, I was birthed in the 3rd most popular way to birth in North America according to Birthing Monthly Magazine’s June 1993 issue.  I have a family and everything and thus far have never been able to completely shake them despite several name changes and one Molotov cocktail incident.  This past week there was a death in my family and, as is tradition for most, we gathered for a funeral.  This fact is significant.  Follow.

After some passive aggressive gathering and preparation with parental units and siblings and extended hooligans from out of town who opted to not only come to town but stay at my home, where I live, on purpose, we were all prepared to leave, converge on the funeral home and put an end to our unfortunate reunion.  And then, at the door, someone said “Hey, where are those pictures?”

“What pictures?”

“For the slide show.”

“Oh, they’re on a USB key.  It’s in a box in my room.”

It’s in a box.  In my room.

A box in my room.


“I’ll go get it.”  Said grandma.

Is your pulse a little elevated right now?  Mine is.  A box in my room.  I’ll get it.  Said grandma.  Oh for God’s sake.

Here’s what the inside of that box looks like, in case you were wondering.

I had to rearrange this for everyone else’s grandmother’s benefit, but this is a box of three realistic vaginas in plastic sleeves.  Realistically molded from a real human’s vagina.  And then formed onto this rubbery tube-snaked looking beast.

This article is now about the moment when you realize your grandmother opened a box full of fake vaginas in your room.  Not a fake vagina, a box full of fake vaginas.

You may be wondering, what exactly is the first thing your grandmother says at the moment she opens a box of fake vaginas in your room.  Keeping in mind this is also just before a funeral.   I don’t know for sure if she uttered anything in the room by herself, but I can reconstruct events fairly well based on what I did see and hear.  Grandma went to the room, she opened the giant box of Fleshlights, and about 3 minutes later, in the hall in front of my front door, with a half dozen other family members present, grandma approached me with a Fleshlight in her hand.  In her goddamn old, old ass hand, and she pointed it at me and said “what the f*ck is this stuff?”

If your grandmother, in a fit of rage and grief, has never swung a sex toy at you and belted out an F-bomb, you have never lived.  It was sublime.

Suddenly all the awkward and bizarre things I have ever written about – here on HT and over on Cracked and on various other websites around the internet – they all took a step back and saluted this one moment. They bowed and said “nope.”  Because nothing could dream of topping this.  Homemade sex toys?  Poop Sandwich Billy? That time I broke my weiner?  You wish.  You wish, internet.  This was it.  This was the moment that comedy pulled the hand brake and the train stopped and the conductor gave me a warm, too friendly hug and told me I was at my destination and it was time to get off.  This shit was done.

So I stood there, in my hallway, in a shirt and tie, and dress pants that are too tight because I need to lose like 20lbs, and I look at that rubbery vagina in my grandma’s hand, and my family in that almost too cliché moment of silence when you can tell most of the people in the room don’t know what that thing is, but everyone can clearly tell it’s still a hand held vagina.  I stood there and, instead of being embarrassed I thought the most callous, awful thing a human could think.  I thought “this is going to make a really funny article.”

“That’s a Fleshlight.  They send them to me for work.  They took a rubber mold of this porn star’s vagina and that’s why it looks like that.  Basically you use it to masturbate with.  It’s pretty good.  So I guess you opened the wrong box.  Gimme a sec.”

Is that a direct quote?  Probably not exactly word for word, but that was the gist of it.  I left then, with the Fleshlight, and got the USB key. The ride to the funeral was quiet and afterwards I went home alone. Later on I used that Fleshlight.  Well, not that one that my grandma touched, I’m never touching that one, and it was the next day because funeral wanking is weird.  But I used one.  And that shit was alright.

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