Do you have jokes that have been with you for years and years- so long that you don’t even remember what they mean but they can still bust you in two laughing about them?
When I was in high school, my friend Michael and I thought that words that sounded like “penis” but weren’t penis-related were funny. As most teens (and some adults, um, you know, like me) do. Like pianist. When we would warm up in choir class we would shout out “where’s my pianist? I do believe I have lost my pianist!” and fall over laughing. Another one was peony. We would say things such as “I picked a peony last night and boy did it smell good!” We would slur these words as much as possible so as to make them sound like “peen-ist” and “peenie.” Because we were raised to act a fool like that.
Related to this was the fact that Michael used to spend his summers in Georgia, and while there he had a job at the local McDonalds. He would tell us stories about a regular customer, an older gentleman who would drive up to the drive-through daily to get his Dr. Pepper. Only the old coot never said Dr. Pepper. He called it Dr. Pecker. Which, come on, comedy gold.
The combination of the Dr. Pecker thing and the pianist/peony thing somehow- I can’t for the life of me remember how or why- resulted in the phrase “I’ll have a Dr. Pecker and a small peenie, please!” said in the thickest southern accent one can muster. And we said it CONSTANTLY. I can’t think of what type of situation would call for this type of tomfoolery, but we made it work. Heaven forbid you ask us any sort of question about what we would like, or what we would have, or what our preference was on any matter. You would be met with this phrase.
This resulted in the very strange conversation that I had with Nordic Boy this weekend. It happened in a restaurant and I hope to HIGH HEAVEN someone was eavesdropping on us.
Nordic Boy: You know Amy? She got one of those dogs. What are they called? Those small ones?
Me: I don’t know. A poodle?
Nordic Boy: No. Fluffier than that. Um. A Peony?
Me: That’s a flower, not a dog.
Nordic Boy: Are you sure? Those fluffy dogs? They aren’t called a Peony?
Me: You mean a Pekingese?
Nordic Boy: That’s it!
Me: A peony…as a dog…that’s funny.
Nordic Boy: Well, I was close.
Me: (yelling) I’LL HAVE A DR. PECKER AND A SMALL PEENIE PLEASE!!
Nordic Boy: Wow. Did you just have stroke?
Me: In a sense.