Chucky's Uncle Ben passed on after a particularly bloody incident involving grifting in old Chicago. Before he passed on, he gave Chucky a birthday present he would never forget.
"None of the other boys have one," Ben told Chucky before the gift was unwrapped. "You are going to be very popular."
Uncle Ben convinced Chucky and the other kids at the party to wait and open his gift last. When Chucky opened it, the room went silent. Everyone stared as he opened the box and poured the vagina out onto the coffee table.
"What is it?" Chucky asked his uncle. "Some kind of starfish? I don't have a fish tank to keep it in."
For many years, the vagina lived in the house with Chucky and his parents. It never bothered anyone, and spent most of its time in a terrarium. As Chucky got older and more mischievous, he would take the vagina out and play with it. Sometimes he would put it on the floor and throw pretzels onto the floor in front of it. The vagina would crawl towards the pretzel, taste it and then spit it out once the first nuggets of salt offended its delicate sensibilities.
The games would become more complicated as Chucky grew into an adolescent. He would take the vagina to school in his book bag and bring it out in the locker room as a gag. Then one day he let things get out of control. Some of the seniors were in the locker room and grabbed Chucky's vagina. They began throwing it around, playing "keep away" from Chucky and it slipped through a drainage grate on the floor. It took the school janitors four hours to find the vagina again. Chucky's parents were brought in and lectured on how the school district had paid overtime for the work of these janitors and that Chucky was being suspended. He never brought the vagina to school again.
Two days into Chucky's suspension from school, he noticed his vagina was starting to look discolored and swollen. He wondered if it had become infected or sick during it's journey through the school's drainage system. He brought it to a doctor, feeling foolish in doing so, but decided upon a doctor when it just didn't seem right to consult with a veterinarian. This was a vagina, not a dog or a cat. It needed a real doctor.
"Nothing to worry about, son. What your vagina is experiencing is normal for one in this stage of its development. Keep it on a towel for a while, and whenever this happens. If you see some discharge or blood of some kind, don't worry. It comes with the territory."
The words of the doctor concerned Chucky more than anything else. Walking back to the house with his vagina in a shoebox, Chucky thought about throwing it into a hedge and running away. He couldn't do that. He just couldn't. He was attached to the vagina. Besides, if anyone found it, the whole town knew Chucky was the only boy who had a vagina.
The life of Chucky's vagina was otherwise peaceful, at least until Chucky began dating girls. His vagina would react most curiously when he came back from a date, standing up at attention and staring at him from the terrarium. Sometimes it seemed to be snarling. When Chucky brought his girlfriend Lisa back to his house and showed her his room, his vagina leaped out of its tank and attached itself to his face. He clawed at it, trying to pull it free from his face. He could not breathe.
Needless to say, Lisa was shocked and appalled by what transpired. She excused herself without kissing Chucky good night. When she left, the vagina let go of Chucky's face and allowed him to place it peacefully back in the terrarium.
Soon after, Chucky began to absently refer to the vagina as "she" instead of "it" and sometimes allowed it to sleep in the bed with him. At night it would crawl over his body. Chucky found the sensation pleasing but swore to himself he would never tell anyone about what was happening. Then, one night, the vagina was more persuasive than ever and convinced Chucky to let it engulf his virginal manhood. Such was the vagina's passion for him that no woman could ever match what it did to Chucky that evening.
"There are benefits to hips," he would tell a woman friend years later, "but there are also benefits to no hips."
Chucky would weather the storms of his relationship with his vagina. The rewards when they were alone together at night more than made up for the jealous and possessive behavior of the vagina. He would convince himself that it was a fair trade. He would convince himself of many things, all in the interest of pleasing his vagina.
Then came the week his parents went on a romantic vacation to Boise and Chucky had the house to himself. He was seventeen now, a senior in high school, and desperate to prove himself as one of the "cool kids." He decided to host a party at his house and invite everyone he could think of. This would be the most memorable party of his senior year. Of this he was certain.
Statistics never lie. Statistics are incontrovertible proof of everything and they can't even be debated. That is how strong and sturdy statistics are. You should obey them always.
Alcohol abuse is statistically proven to be on the rise with teenagers because back in the sixties and seventies and eighties we kids might have snuck a sip of mommy's wine, but we never went crazy like Chucky's friends. They would drink and drink and smoke crazy weed and get all messed up. It would cause them to loosen their inhibitions. Girls and boys would start kissing and groping each other. Girls and girls would start kissing and groping each other. And, as always, men would stand around in the bathroom staring at each other's genitals and saying "nice piece, dude." These things were common to any of the usual high school parties.
Chucky was having a good time. He was quite drunk and had met a new girl, Cathy, who wanted a tour of the house while holding his hand. He showed her around, and eventually led her upstairs to his bedroom. He told the men in the bathroom to "please, close the door," then closed it for them and walked Cathy into his bedroom.
"I'm not going down on anyone on the first date! What about my rep!" came a scream from a room down the hall.
"I ain't got no rot gut fever! And I'm not interested in any chocolate snowberry covered jungle babies either!" came a yell from another.
Three boys he did not recognize were standing around rudely handling and passing around his vagina. Chucky was instantly horrified.
"Stop!"
The bathroom door opened. "Dude, we're sorry. We're not queer or anything, we're just experimenting straight guys."
"Not you. I don't care about you. I care about these pricks who are fucking with my vagina!"
With that, Chucky lunged forward. He pulled his arm back and punched the boy who was holding his vagina and jabbing his fingers into it. The punch landed square on the jaw of the offender. The vagina flew out of his hand and across the room.
Then the power went out.
The music died, the lights went dark and everyone in the house began yelling. There were bikers on the lawn, seven or eight of them, and they were coming towards the house.
"Chucky! Get down here fast! Trouble is brewing!"
Chucky fumbled in the dark, bumping into the rude boys who had manhandled his vagina. He pushed them away and got through the door and raced down the stairs.
"What's going on here? What happened to the power?" Chucky asked the crowd.
"It went out," offered a helpful, inebriated soul.
The front door flew open and the bikers walked through, tracking mud, grass and blood throughout the house with their boots. Their eyes glowed in the dark and they had no trouble seeing through the darkness.
"Where is Ben? We are looking for your Uncle Ben." The biker with the glowing eyes had no interest in debating with Chucky. He grabbed the youth by the throat and held him up against the wall, threatening to choke his bright future out of him.
"He doesn't live here," gasped Chucky. "I don't know where he is. I thought he was dead."
"He owes us fifty grand and a bottle of tequila," the biker told Chucky. "Maybe killing a little runt like you will send him a message. What do you think?"
Another biker agreed with his friend, smacking the back of Chucky's head for good measure. They stood and taunted Chucky for several seconds. Then the biker who had his hand around Chucky's throat let go of him.
"What the fuck is that?" he yelled out. He was slapping at his leather pants violently and jerking about. Chucky looked down and saw something crawling under the biker's tight leather pants and up his leg. It had just made it past his knee and was looking to go higher. Even in the dark he could see its movements.
The biker's associate pulled out a knife and lunged towards his friend's leg. "Don't stab me, you asshole," the biker yelled at his friend and then kicked the knife away from him. The knife skitted across the floor and out of sight. The movement in the biker's pants hit paydirt. Within moments, the biker was on the floor moaning and gasping out passionate sounds.
The power remained out, but two pioneering youths had unearthed a pair of flashlights. They did not approach the scene with the bikers to try to help. Instead, they used the flashlights to lead themselves and two of their cohorts out of the house and to safety.
"A boy so afraid of the dark that he seeks artificial light will run from what the light will show him," remarked a deep voice.
With a sweet, sucking sound, the vagina removed itself from the pants of the exhausted and drained leader of the bikers. The crowd screeched in terror. The volume of their shrieks was louder than that at a packed concert hall three cities away.
The vagina was frightened, but also angry and filled with a jealous rage. It snapped towards another biker, cut itself on his zipper, and then rushed the crowd in a pain induced panic. No one knew what to do.
Several party goers were jumped on. Their faces were mauled and slobbered upon. One young man who wore short shorts to the party received what he would later tell his grandchildren was "a quickie from hell."
The vagina had once given itself only to Chucky. It was his vagina, but now it had tasted the fruits of the world. It had played the field and decided it was not yet ready to settle down. So, Chucky's vagina hit the road. There were other worlds to see and other things to experience. Chucky was still such a boy.