(I’ve gotten away from Legal Disclaimers — see about author if you are insulted by anything I’ve written.)
I’ve seen him twice––my poor eyes. The first time I saw him was before C-Jane and I were engaged, when I lived in my old apartments, before I was BIG-J, and just big-j.
I’d come down from my apartment with a sack of trash to be deposited in the trash dumpster. There was a rusty ten-speed bike beside the tan-bricked enclave where the refuse cans were tucked away. On the bike was a tiny battery-operated radio with the song ‘I Remember You’ by the eighties hair-band known as Skid Row blaring from the speakers. (There is some irony here since the rider was most likely homeless.)
I walk into the trash area and Behold!––a man spanking away at his wiener. He was standing with his back to me, giving his dog a mean beating, buck-ass neck-ed!!
I was stunned by what I saw. He had his back to me and I just stood there, amazed by the display of expert pole-yanking, all the while, Sebastian Bach is caterwauling, “I Reeeeemember Youuuuuu!” I nearly said, “how romantic, garbage and heavy metal” but I was afraid I’d ruin his moment or worse yet, that he’d turn around and fire at me. So loudly, I threw my sack’o’trash into the dumpster and ran away like a scared little girl!
Thank Starpulse for the above photo.
I was sure that would be the last time I’d see Naked Man. No, fortune chose to humor me again. This time on the way to California – Naked Man, you sure get around.
I was between Victorville and San Bernardino. I’d just passed Cajon Summit where the high desert begins its steep and dangerous plummet to the Riverside Valley and Inland Empire. It is the worst part of the long trip between Las Vegas and Riverside because there is two lanes of large trucks with eighteen wheels whipping around each other, as well as another two lanes of crazy automobiles with drivers who ‘think’ they are Mario Andretti, but really they are just lucky not to crash into each other. I was just trying to survive when from out of the bushes on the side of the road – there he is again – Naked Man!
This time he had the decency to use an old discarded floor mat to cover-up his hangy-down part. I couldn’t stare too long or I’d die in a 20-car collision. Damn you, Naked Man – damn you for trying to kill me this time. I stole one last look in my rear-view, and sure enough, he was all naked, right there, on the side of Interstate-15.
I don’t even remember the next thirty minutes it took to get to Riverside. All I could think about was, why? Why did I have to see another naked man in my life? What could lead to standing on the side of the road with only a floor mat to cover his man-part? Was he hoping to meet a nice lady on her way to L.A.? Did a bear eat all his clothes? That was some party, eh? And one last time, why me? Why have my eyes been cursed twice with manly nakedness? (I reeeemember youuuuu-ooouuu!)
Thanks Sebastian, thanks a lot!
Thank WebMD for the picture.