So there was this apparently long-standing joke going on between certain unnamed co-workers of mine down at the dental office. (Those straight white coats we all wear don’t necessarily signify anything about mental hygiene). So the joke goes like this: a dentist leaves the office around lunchtime (this time it was Dr. Greenberg), much in the same manner he would any other day of the week. About two hours later, he calls up the office answering service, and in a feverish manner, leaves an out-of-breath message for a specific dentist (this time, me). The terms of the joke are brief: pick a specific dentist who is not in on the joke yet, and be as quick as possible in order to heighten the effect. Can you see where this is going, Honey? You always said I was so gullible! You had no idea the extent to which you were right about that! All that was left on the message: a telephone number, the feeling of an extraordinary amount of concern and danger, and the plain fact that the dentist leaving the message was apparently in a great deal of trouble. Several minutes later, I was called out of a routine scraping and cleaning session with Mrs. Beecker, that cute old German lady with the mauve-colored hair who we always see at the video store spying on the patrons behind the saloon doors that close off the porno section of the store. You know Mrs. Beecker? Sure you do. Anyway, so I got the message, scribbled down the telephone number and immediately called up, frantic, wondering if a bail bondsman or an emergency room nurse would pick up the other end
of the line.
     Instead, this was the message that I heard. I wrote it down word for word, even though I had to call the number ten or fifteen times that day to do it. You know how bad you always said my memory was, especially for important things like our anniversary! Here was what the voice said on the machine:
     "Hello and welcome to the information line for the L.A. Jacks, where you, too, may see the thing itself. The L.A. Jacks is a group of men who like to jack off with like-minded men. Neither a business nor a religion, we are a public service organization now in our nineteenth year. We meet twice a month on the 2nd and 4th Monday; doors open at 7:30pm and close promptly at 8:30. Don’t be late. This month, we meet on the 12th and the 26th. Our location is 1601 Hope, downtown at the Friction Booth. Our rules are simple. Mandatory clothes check. J-O play only. No cock sucking, no butthole play. No obnoxious behavior. No poppers, for example. Don’t be shy, smile and have fun. We ask a contribution of seven dollars. You may bring beverages in cans. We provide the lube and paper towels. Fetish wear is welcome. Creative pecker play and group scenes are highly encouraged. So come on down! Join L.A. Jacks for an evening of poetry in motion, where you too may see the thing itself."
     Needless to say, I was a bit confused. I mean, Honey – come on! What would you have thought? You know I’m not always the quickest on the uptake when faced with long, drawn-out explanations of things I know nothing about, like that time you tried to explain to me what soap operas were, and why they were so important. I was so lost! My brain felt like it turned into mashed potatoes – and I think you even said as much, judging by the look on my face. Well – this time the same sort of thing happened, I guess. I wasn’t really confused about what had gone wrong with Dr. Greenberg (if there was even anything at all), but more along the lines of exactly what would be considered “obnoxious behavior” in such an environment as was described over the telephone and, further, what the exact nature of “creative pecker play” might be. Dr. Greenberg and the others in the office had a tremendous laugh at my expense, and I played the part of the jackass they needed to get the most out of their gag. You would have cried if you had seen how sad I pretended to be! It was terrible, in a way, I suppose. In reality, I had already decided that I was going to go and check out the Jacks. I mean, why not? Wasn’t it you, Dear, who always encouraged me to be a little bit more experimental? I mean, of restaurants we’d have dinner in, given my propensity for always ordering the same dishes. But this was real! You’d have been so proud of your brave little boy!