Alright! Enough with the weird looks, and even kinkier requests from Gamaliel for a house call performance, I am going to explain the story behind the latex fist, and how it got to it's current resting place . . . my closet.

There was a rather large party going on at Chrissy's house. 2 parents upstairs attempting sleep, 25 people downstairs raising hell while watching the Indiana Jones trilogy. Seeing the trilogy about 50 times prior to that evening, my buddies James and Mark along with myself decided to do something else. We ran several ideas through our collective heads prior to settling on the one that would change my life forever. We threw out raiding a Taco Bell drive-thru, a la Jackass, and videotaping James' neighbors sleep in lieu of properly celebrating Mark's 18th birthday by traveling to the adult book store.

We had to act fast in order for the plan to be a sucess. We immediately bolted out the door suddenly and without explanation and headed for my car. Once inside we sped all the way to the other side of Green Bay to the only adult book and toy store we could think of, The Nite Owl. The thing about the Nite Owl is, is that they never clean the floors, so they are stickier than a movie theater after a Showgirls marathon.

We arrived at the store a short 15 minutes later, and quickly proceded inside. Once inside, Mark was awash in a sea of adult material from which the likes he hasn't seen since he visited his grandparent's farm. We browsed for some time before I came across it. There it was, glistening in the flickering halogen light, the holy of all holies, the king of kings, the toy to tame all women . . . the latex fist.

The latex fist in all it's glory, awaiting there in cheap cellophane wrapping, beckoning me from afar. I saw it, picked it up, and was immediately floored at the concept that this was so . . . latex. I pictured some girl taking all of this into her, and enjoying it? It was ludicrous to me. Now I have had my fair share of sexual encounters, but this concept boggled and Mark were ecstatic that I was holding it, and they urged me to buy it. Peer pressure is a bitch, so I gave in.

The other two left to go to my car for a smoke, and I went up to the counter. The cashier shot me an odd look and then rang me up. The total was 17.64, and it is/was worth every penny.

The weight of the fist is astounding. It weighs 14 pounds and it cannot support its own weight, as it will topple when set upright. The fist is a 6 inches wide, and the subsequent length up to 3/4 length of the arm is 3 inches in diameter. It was very soft, and smells like apoxy glue. The coloration is skin-tone.

I brought it out in a brown paper bag and got into my car. We opened the bag, and marveled at its beauty and size. James wanted to lick it, so he did. Mark wanted to hold it, so he did. I wanted to hit somebody with it once we got back to the party for the sheer amusement value, so I did. We arrived back at the party and everyone was dancing in a nightclub like atmosphere now, as Mike and Ian were DJing. The music stopped, and everyone asked what was in the bag. I took it out, and a series of ooohs, ahhhhs, and what the hell is that's choraled through the crowd. James and Mark sat next to me on the couch, and I waited for my target to pass. Hoppman finally walked by and I sprung up and caught him in the kidney with the latex fist. I giant laugh went up, and Hoppman went down like a sack of Gamaliel.

Saddly, the fist has not seen any action since that fateful night. It has sat in my closet, ready to be used, since then. It is a pop culture icon in my social group, and will make appearances at LANs that I attend, and may attend a party, if the ends justify the means.

That is it. Once there was a mighty man, who posessed a latex fist. Long after this man has gone to see whatever Valhalla he believes in, the latex fist will still be here to wreck havoc on our mortal souls.

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