Aqua Dog

I am having the kind of week where I eat, sleep, and dream work. I have no social plans any nights this week, both Nordic Boy and Biogirl are out of town, so it’s crickets around here.

So, I shall have to rifle through the brain archives to think of something to say. And what I have come up with is a true story from my life that I like to call Tucking in the Water Weenie.

Essential to this story is an understanding of the term water weenie. A water weenie is a plastic sheath the size and shape of a hotdog, and this sheath is filled with water. The result is that the water weenie is hard to hold onto, which is supposed to be fun and feel gross, I think. I am not sure in what context a water weenie is really necessary or desired, and I am not going to try to speculate about that here. I have actually never been in the presence of a water weenie ever, present story excepted.

Some years ago, when Biogirl was an undergrad, she went off on some marine biologist researchy training camp thing where they bonded over their love of anemones and sang campfire songs about seahorses (oh I don’t know what it was, leave me alone) out in the boonies somewhere. They lived in dorms. Or barracks. Or something. I promise the details get better soon. Someone in the group had possession of a water weenie. And, as people who live in the woods with no media outlets and nothing to occupy themselves do (unlike us city folk who can fill up our time doing important things like watching the Kardashians), they made up silly past times, one of which was to secret away the water weenie, go into a pal’s bedroom when they aren’t there, put the water weenie in the bed, and then wait for the hapless victim to climb in, only to find the squishy disgusting feeling of weenie against thigh, which, if you were very lucky, could make them scream in fright/repulsion.

Let’s set aside the fact that these are young nubile pre-scientists who clearly should have been using this time in the woods to get it on with each other rather than play water weenie games with badly disguised or rather glaring sexual overtones. Because we can all see that.

Months later, Biogirl was back in the city, living a normal life in an apartment, with no more weenies in her bed. At least, none that she didn’t invite there on purpose.

One day, I got an email from one of Biogirl’s friends from Bio-camp. He was in town (or maybe he was always in town, and was moving away soon, details are hazy about that dude) and thought it would be hilarious to break out the water weenie trick, in this setting, where she would never suspect! And could I help pull it off?

I told you we were putting aside sexual overtones, everyone. Just do me a favor and try to.

I think I had met that guy maybe all of two times, always in group settings. I didn’t know that guy. So it was kind of weird that he was enlisting my help on the water weenie thing, but I can see why he did it, I guess. You want to get to Biogirl, you come to me. There’s logic in that, I suppose.

This is the part where you can tell that I was young and stupid. If someone came to me with that foolishness now? I would get out of it. Tell him to take care of his own weenie caper. Say no. I am good at saying no now. But then? I didn’t want to be mean. So I gave a half-hearted yes.

I was to be the instrument of water weenie delivery. First, he wanted me to come meet him somewhere for the weenie hand-off (oh jeez), but I really didn’t want to go out of my way for this weenie madness, so I said no. Ok fine, he said, I will drop by her apartment in the middle of the day and leave it somewhere for you. But where? I don’t know, I said. She has some plants on her front step.

Brilliant, he said. And he went to her place and stuck his weenie in her bush.

Ok, I admit I tried to make it sound dirty that time.
I was supposed to go over to Biogirl’s that night. I enlisted the help of our pal Jenny, because I couldn’t stand to be alone in this stupidity and Nordic Boy was having none of it. The plan was that we would swipe the weenie out of the bushes and put it in one of our purses before ringing the doorbell. But how would we get it into her room? I wasn’t going to just go into her bedroom by myself for no reason. We should have come up with a plan ahead of time, but we decided to improvise.

Right before we were supposed to leave for the night, I thought that if I could get Biogirl to go into her 2nd bedroom, then Jenny could do the deed. I remembered that Biogirl had her camping equipment stored in the closet of the second bedroom. So I said this: “Biogirl, I am thinking about buying some camping equipment. Specifically, a good sleeping bag. What kind do you have? Can I see it?”

To this day, I can’t understand why Biogirl didn’t see right through that mess. ME, asking about camping equipment? The likelihood of me buying camping equipment is about the same as me buying a spacesuit for my next trip to Mars. But she totally fell for it. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

The two of us went into the 2nd bedroom, and Jenny went into the other one, and deposited the weenie into the bed.

To quote George W, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Except Jenny is not one to believe a statement like that from our president or anyone else. She was under the impression that we had to see the mission through to the very end. Like, that we had to actually witness the shock and disgust when Biogirl found the weenie.

Why did she think that? I don’t know. I thought our duty was done.

As we started to wind up the evening and get our coats on and such, I could see Jenny starting to panic. We were leaving! How would we know if the water weenie joke worked? I tried to make eye contact with her. We’re out, I wanted to say, leave it alone! We are done with this weenie caper!

And then, Jenny opened her mouth, and with a complete straight face, she said this:

“You know, I think that before we leave, we should TUCK YOU INTO BED.”

There was just a second of silence (because what else can you do but let that one sink in for a moment), and then Biogirl laughed. And then so did I.

Ha ha! Good one, Jenny! That’s funny! Ok, let’s go home now!

“NO REALLY. I THINK WE SHOULD. IT’LL JUST TAKE A MINUTE.”

And then we all looked at each other. And then Biogirl got a look on her face that was equal parts suspicion, fear, and wanting to be a good sport to a joke that she didn’t get.

Biogirl: Um, why would we do that?
Jenny: Because it would be funny!
Me: (making eyes at Jen that said ABORT! ABORT!)
Biogirl: What’s going on?
Jenny: Nothing! I just think it would be funny!
Me: I uh…
Biogirl: Why? Why is that funny?
Jenny: Oh come on. Just do it!

I don’t know what possessed her, but she said…ok.

So the three of us walked into her bedroom, and she- looking at us with complete mistrust and never turning her back on us the entire time- backed up to her bed, fully clothed in her daytime attire, pulled her blankets back, and got into her bed.

Let’s just freeze-frame for a second. All became clear when she discovered the water weenie, as to why things had transpired thusly. But up until that moment, what did she think was going on? It was clear that she thought we were playing some kind of prank on her, but what? She couldn’t have suspected the water weenie because we weren’t at biology nerd research camp with her. And why did she comply with the tucking in business? And what possessed Jenny to think that tucking her friend in was a convincing ruse? And why didn’t I just break down and tell Biogirl what was going on and fuck the water weenie joke, which wasn’t even my joke to begin with but that I was taking way too much responsibility for?

It is kind of fascinating to think about what each of us was thinking in these moments. I don’t think I can really explain any of it, even my own actions.

My only conclusions to draw from this story are the following:

1. Jenny should not be a secret agent.

2. If I ask you about camping equipment advice, I am up to something.

3. When in doubt about how to complete a caper, offer to tuck someone into bed.

4. If a dude wants to give his weenie to a girl, there really shouldn’t be a middleman.

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4 comments

  1. The line "tell him to take care of his own weenie caper" will ring through my mind's ear all day now. As in most good comic stories (cf. King of Queens), the hero's desire to be seen as friendly and accommodating comes into conflict with his/her desire not to be prodded by others into doing idiotic things. Hilarity ensues.

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