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My Dickie is Too
Small! |
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 I was pouring a
mask, spilling latex all over my shorts and ruining yet
another pair of Dockers when I saw it. My neighbor John across
the street was busy as a beaver sawing into some large piece of
wood. He was well protected by his Dickie. Wow! If
I had a Dickie like that, never again would I need to worry about
staining my pants. |
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 When John finally
turned off his table saw, I called him over,
"John, can you come
over here? My wife and I would like to get a better look at
your Dickie."
John is a nice guy and loves to show off his
tools, so he strolled over proud as a peacock to finally get a
chance to let someone see his Dickie.
"Jeepers," was all my wife
could utter.
She could only remember seeing a Dickie once in college
and had never been this close to one.
"Can I touch it," she
said.
"Go ahead, rub it all you want," gleamed John.
I
wanted to feel it too, so not being shy I stroked John's Dickie
every which way. |
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"This is it," I
told my wife. "I want a Dickie just like John's for Father's
Day." My wife is very good at remembering little things like
this. How could she forget after seeing how happy John was
with his Dickie? Father's Day was just around the corner, but
I couldn't get John's Dickie off my mind. Finally, the day
arrived and true to her colors, my wife presented me with my brand
new Dickie. |
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"I really need to
be alone," I said as I slipped into the bathroom for proper fit.
I pulled out my Dickie and the fun began. I unzipped, pulled
and tugged my Dickie to no end. It was hard going, but I
finally got it. I stepped out of the bathroom rather ashamed.
My wife was standing there and I knew what was coming.
"It's
too small," she said in her matter of fact tone. "Your Dickie is just too small. Not
like John's. Oh no, he has a big Dickie."
I knew it.
I had waited and waited for my Dickie only to be severely
disappointed.
"How could it be too small," I
blurted. "It was long
enough."
"Length doesn't matter," my wife said, "It just
won't fit."
"Can you fix it," I asked her hoping against hope.
"No! of course not. It's not my job to work on your Dickie.
It must go back." |
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I knew it had to
come to this. I had to part with my Dickie. I got the
number and called.
"Hello, this is Eileen. What can I do
for you?"
I said, "It's about my Dickie, I have
problems. Can you take care of it, or is there another number
I should call?"
"Oh, no. I'm a specialist," she said.
"I can take care of
your Dickie right here."
"Is there a fee?"
"Not
at all, we have a very liberal policy on how we handle Dickies.
We would never charge, especially an unhappy customer. Now if
I could just get some information from you, name, address, phone and
description of problem."
I gave her the information and
mentioned my and my wife's displeasure with my Dickie.
"Perfect," she chirped back. "We can take care of you. If you
could just
get your Dickie off tomorrow, we will have you smiling again in no
time."
Finally! I felt a small rush of adrenaline and
set out to get my Dickie off. |
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Well, my Dickie finally came. My wife
squealed with more excitement than I did. I hadn't realized
she was this excited to see my new Dickie. I again found
myself alone in the bathroom with my Dickie. My wife waited
with anticipation for the final moment. I emerged from the
bathroom with a somewhat solemn look on my face. We both knew
it right away. My new Dickie was too big! |
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