in search of the absurd: fiction & nonfiction

Mother! Quit Talking About The Size Of My Penis!--by Michael Ray Laemmle

            Mary knew the holidays weren't a good time to ask her second husband for favors.  And she wouldn't have, save that her youngest son's birthday was the day prior to Thanksgiving.  He'd be turning thirty, the last of her four boys to do so.  None of her children were married.  As each year passed, Mary's concern amplified.  Why had she raised four bachelors?  She wanted grandchildren, wanted her kids happy.  Marriage didn't automatically lead to happiness, but in Mary's experience, it went a long way towards getting you there. 

            Recently, Mary had begun to suspect it was the size of her sons' penises which kept them from finding mates.  She didn't believe their penises were small.  Her first husband (the father of all her children), had an adequately sized one.  And though she didn't know whether the size of a child's penis was the product of the mother's genes, father's genes, some combination thereof, or some other factor altogether, she doubted nature would have left her children wanting in satisfying length and girth.   

            Penis size may not have become a culprit but for a recent episode of Oprah.  Mary was recently retired from her position teaching high school French and Spanish.  In her newfound leisure, she spent daytime hours happily relaxing on the couch watching television.  She wasn't a television junkie.  She'd never had time to watch at all, what with full-time career and four boys to raise.  And though she had plans for her retirement, she now wanted nothing more than to kick her feet up and see what the rest of the world was watching.

            A male doctor came on Oprah's show.  It wasn't the subject of the broadcast, but in the context of their discussion penis size came up.  From the brief segue, Mary gleaned several new truths from dear Oprah and her audience.  Firstly, penis size matters—or, if it doesn't in actuality, women like to joke occasionally that it does.  Joking, Mary figured, retains some element of truth.  Secondly, overweight men with overhanging bellies appear to have much smaller penises than they actually do.  All of Mary's sons were overweight.  Not grossly, and they carried their weight well.  But all did indeed have protrusive, overhanging bellies.  Thirdly, trimming one's pubic hair can add one to two inches of apparent length.  Mary figured if they didn't trim their pubic hair, that coupled with their bellies was taking three, four, possibly five inches off their penis size—reducing them to mere nubs! 

            This Thanksgiving, her two youngest sons, living in proximity, would be joining Mary and her husband.  Bill, her current spouse, was not the children's father.  He was an engineer by profession, had no children of his own.  By the time he and Mary married, her youngest son Robert was attending university.  By nature a quiet, docile man, Bill knew little about raising boys, nor about man-to-man talks with men not of his loins.             

            Mary considered penis size, real and apparent, a topic for fathers and sons.  She'd been pushing Bill to bring the matter up in private.  Bill was resistant.  Though holidays with Mary's children always went well, Bill often felt like an outsider.  Everyone else present had years of shared experiences.  He hated the idea of awkwardly forcing a father-son moment on men who may not consider him a father figure at all.  Why would they?  He tried to help any way he could, but he'd literally done nothing to raise them.

            While Mary worked on Bill, she also stoked the fires herself.  She'd convince Bill to bring it up, no doubt, but she thought it best if the subject didn't appear out of thin air.  She'd call her boys, delicately mention her recent discoveries, and thereby put the pieces in place.

            Mary dialed Robert.

            "Mom, what's up?"

            "Just watching Oprah."

            "How's Oprah doing?"

            "It's a very interesting show she's having today."  Mary had seen the penis show last week, but she wanted Robert to think her call spontaneous.

            "That a fact?" said Robert disinterestedly.  He'd grown accustomed since his mother's retirement to phone calls in the middle of the day, concerning things she'd just seen on Oprah.  One day she'd caution him against crystal meth, another day about traveling to Sierra Leone.
 
            Mary thought it best to just come out with it.  Plainly, matter-of-factly.  "There was a doctor on who said overweight men appear to have smaller penises than thinner men."

            Robert rolled his eyes, "Did you just use the word penis with me?"
           
            "It's a medical term!"

            "I don't like to hear the word penis come out of my mother's mouth."

            "I thought you might like to know," said Mary.

            "You calling me fat?" asked Robert.

            "No, but you carry a little extra weight.  If you lost your belly, it'd add two inches to your penis."

            "You said it again."

           "It doesn't really add two inches, of course.  But appearances are important."

            "I kinda figured getting trim didn't magically add two inches to your penis."

            "Maybe you should think about slimming down, you know, so that it looks like your penis is larger."

            "I'm going to say bye now.  You're not even talking about penises generally, you're talking about my penis.  It's creepy."

            "Honey—"

            "No more."

            "One more thing.  Not about penises."

            "What?"

            "The doctor also said trimming pubic hair can add two inches.  Do you trim?"  

            "Mom, are you losing your mind?  Goodbye, see you next Thursday.  Stop watching Oprah."  Robert hung up, shook his head.  The conversation made him feel gross.  Then again, it was something to think about.  Maybe he'd start doing sit-ups, trimming his pubic hair.  It was, in all honestly, becoming somewhat thatch-like.

            Mary placed a second call to her second youngest, Charlie.  The conversation was much the same.  Mary was glad she'd broached the subject.  Bill still hadn't agreed to discuss penises, but Mary planned to force the issue.  Meanwhile, she'd done a great deal of research on the internet concerning overweight men, penis size, and personal grooming, collecting a number of printouts.  Most pertinently, she'd come across an article in Men's Health citing a recent survey of young women, eighty percent who claimed to prefer sex with a man infected with an STD, than with an overweight fellow.  If credible, this survey went a long way in proving her point.

            Thanksgiving dinner.  Mary and her family at the table, passing around the delicious dishes.  Mary mentioned that after the holidays, especially Thanksgiving, she was always compelled to go on a stringent diet and exercise regimen.  For bathing suit season.

            "That's nice," said Robert, not fooled by the nonchalant way she'd brought up exercise. 

            In defense, Charlie scooped a second helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate.  "Not me," he said.  "No diets before holidays, none after.  I don't go swimming much."

            "Yes," said Mary, "but it helps one feel good about themselves.  Isn't that right, Bill?"

            Bill looked up from gnawing his turkey leg, was quick to agree.  "Sure."

            A few minutes later.  Mary continued, "Bill's been dieting lately, and working out.  Haven't you Bill?"

            "Yep," said Bill, patting his flat stomach, flexing his biceps.  He requested Robert and Charlie feel.

            "And you wouldn't believe what it's done for the size of his penis," said Mary, cautiously.  "Isn't that right, Bill?"

            Bill's face went red.  "For Pete's sake."                                 

            "Gross," exclaimed Robert. 

            Charlie shook his head, dropped his forkful of stuffing.  "Mom, we're trying to eat.  Let's not talk about anybody's penis, but especially not the penises of anybody sitting at this table."

            Mary defended herself, "I don't see anything wrong with talking about penises.  It's part of the body.  Natural."

            "Okay," Robert said, and though loathing to say it, he swallowed deeply, forced himself.  "As long as we're talking penises, we might as well talk vaginas.  How's your vagina these days, Mom?  Doing pretty good?"

            Mary was undeterred.  "My vagina is not the issue.  Your penises are.  Bill, didn't I see it on Oprah?"

            "She sure did."

            "And I found an article in Men's Health.  Did you know eighty percent of women prefer to sleep with a man with venereal disease than with an overweight one?"

            "Bullshit," said Charlie.

            "It's true.  I printed out the article.  Didn't I Bill?"

            "She's got packets for both of you."

            "This Oprah stuff is going to your head," said Robert.

             "The doctor said it, not Oprah.  A flat stomach adds two inches!  Trimming your pubic hair adds another two.  Bill trims his pubic hair, don't you Bill?"

            "Oh Mary, for Pete's sake!"

            "He does!  He uses my Lady Remington.  I'll get each of you boys one for Christmas."

            "Why do you bring all this up here, now, while we're enjoying Thanksgiving?"

            "It's the perfect time," said Mary.  "We have so much to be thankful for.  You boys should be thankful you have adequately sized penises.  Not everybody does.  But you need to be at your ideal weight, so you can show them off!"

            "Just pass the cranberry sauce, would you?"

            Instead, Mary handed each of her sons an ear of corn.  "Look at this corn on the cob.  It's long and has girth.  Imagine how nice it would be if your penis had similar length and girth.  Just imagine it, that's all I'm saying."  Mary smiled as her boys both took stock of the corn in their hands, then gladly passed the cranberry sauce.