The Boy Who Pierced His Labia
|To: firstname.lastname@example.org |
Subject: Screw it...i want to be a Pal
So here's my story, señor:
At the tender age of twelve I was in New York City with my friend Eli when I decided I wanted to get my eyebrow pierced. Silverchair was on the top of the charts, angst was in the air, and I was out to find the one piercing shop in Brooklyn that didn't card prospective piercees.
After wandering around the streets for half an hour, someone whose head was littered with rings and studs gave me a flyer for a piercing store. We tentatively asked him if the store would card me. He smiled and shook his head.
"WAHOOOOO," I yelped, then scrambled to find the word "eyebrow" on the list of things the store would pierce, handily included on the flyer. However after multiple searches I couldn't find it.
Now, in this situation, most people would have gone into the store and asked them if they pierced eyebrows, or found another flyer...but I, being the stubborn idiot that I am, refused to find another flyer, or even move, until the dilemma was resolved.
"Screw it," I said. "They probably just used a word for it I don't know. Like what's this word?" I picked a word that sort of sounded like it might mean eyebrow in Latin or Italian or something. "la-bia? that's GOTTA mean eyebrow."
And that was how I strode into the piercing store, sauntered up to the counter, cockily eyed the bored employee at the counter, and declared, "Hey there - I'd like my labia pierced."
The man did a double-take. I probably wasn't a transvestite.
"Uh...you want your WHAT pierced?"
"My labia," I said, acting too-cool-for-this-world.
Mystified, the clerk began to laugh a little as it dawned on him that I was the one here who had no clue what was going on. "Buddy," he said, laughing, "are you sure you HAVE one of those?"
Again, in a situation like this, a normal, rational person would have simply said "oh...I guess not," or "I think so...what is it, again?" or hell, even just walked out.
But no. I had to lean forward, assume an expression that indicated that I was obviously trying to communicate with a retarded kid who didn't speak english, grab both eyebrows, and WHILE MANUALLY WIGGLING THEM half-shout "Of COURSE I do! I have TWO!"
This is when the guy at the counter fell off his stool laughing.
I stood there for a minute, a little confused, until the clerk pulled himself back up onto the counter, heaving with laughter, holding a poster. He said, "dude...ha ha ha ha...THIS is what you're asking for," and showed me the poster.
The poster, a little smaller than your average Britney Spears poster, depicted a shaven, bloody vagina, being speared with a piercing through what I assumed was, in fact, a real labia. it was the first time I had ever seen a vagina in my entire life.
This caused the clerk to enter ANOTHER round of disabling, spasming laughter, which caused another employee to enter the room: a woman dressed entirely in black and/or leather, carrying a piercing gun.
The guy at the counter wheezed, "Cheryl! oh my God....listen to....this kid wants his LABIA pierced!"
Cheryl sized me up and gave me a grin typically reserved for sharks. "That can be arranged," She said and fired the piercing gun.
I RAN out of there.