The Fifteen Inches of Friday Night (short story)

I had a exceedingly silly conversation with a friend of mine earlier this month about some silly tweets, and this ended up getting written.

The Fifteen Inches of Friday Night

38.1 cm if you’re measuring in metric

Suave, drunk off cheap liquor and smelling of grilled meat, Wade faced down the horde of raccoons rooting through his trash with the only thing you can face down a horde of angry raccoons with when in a state of intense inebriation: a 15” horse dildo and the feeling you can do no wrong in the world. All told, it was a typical Friday night in Dallas for Wade, and maybe that was the problem.

Some of them scattered immediately, but a brave one tried to keep the man from taking away its easy dinner. Wade though was ready for its feinting attack.

“You get out of here, now,” he yelled at the raccoon, as he swung the oversized phallus down at the small critter. It jumped away and tried to abscond with a moldy half eaten sandwich he’d thrown out this morning before heading to lunch. Really, Wade wasn’t surprised the raccoons wanted it. He was more surprised they’d waited till dark.

“You varmints need to learn respect for a man’s trash,” yelled Wade, wildly swinging the horse cock at them again, pushing back the horde. Even the brave one finally gave up in the sandwich and took over around the corner of the trailer.

Finally, having scared them all off, Wade returned to the picnic table and dropped the girthy dildo next to the potato salad.

“Johnny, you got any more of that shine left? Them raccoons might want to come back, and I don’t want them getting into the trash before the garbage people come in the morning.”

Johnny was a tough man, one who had seen things in some war, or at least told you he’d seen things you didn’t want to see, but he certainly hadn’t seen a dildo like that before and he certainly didn’t want to know where the hell Wade had gotten that baseball bat of a schlong.

“Wade man, you really shouldn’t be using that thing as a weapon.”

“This thing?” Wade picked up the phallus and pointed it toward Johnny. “Why not? It’s in some video game.”

Johnny was a man of valor, and people had pulled knives out on him, and he’d not flinched. Horse dildos though were new to him, and he pulled out his flask and slid it across the picnic table to Wade. “Just put your wiener away.”

“Why? You think I’m not man enough to wield the dick? I’m going to show those raccoons!”

Johnny watched as Wade, one handed unscrewed the flask took a sip of, and then screwed it back up before he even dignified that with a response. The entire time, the shaft of the dildo stayed pointed at him. Wade had apparently practiced drinking one handed.

“The raccoons don’t seem concerned by the girth, Wade, and the neighbors are going to call the cops saying you’re a menace to the neighborhood,” Johnny finally said.

Wade flicked the large silicone phallus at his friend. “Johnny, you don’t understand. One does not simply fall on their sword in the heat of battle.”

“Give me that!” said Johnny snatching the horse dildo away. “The only sword you’re going to fall on in is this cock.”

“Ha! Already did.”

Johnny blinked looked at the prodigious schlong in his hands, and back at his drunk friend. “Dude, your foreplay sucks when you’re drunk.”

Wade smiled, amused. “Don’t worry, I still fuck fine when I’m like this.”