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8:22 a.m. - 2002-11-13


Man oh man…do I feel like a heel!

I mean…yesterday I promise you guys the scoop on my talk with Pervy and then I got so sidetracked and off on so many different tangents that I completely forgot to relay the Pervy story.


It’s almost like I planned it that way or something! I mean…sheesh!!

I wish you guys woulda spoken up and dropped me a line, a note or a message to let me know I had forgotten to spill the beans on the boy. I depend on you all to do that every now and then. Keep in mind … my memory isn’t what it used to be anymore. I’m old. Feeble. Decrepit. Aged. All that jazz.



Ummmm… what kind of idiot do you have to be to get engaged to Jennifer Lopez? The chick has a divorce fetish for chrissakes. Does she just not put out until after the marriage vows?



Alright…okay…fine…sure…I’ll start dishing.


You sure can be an impatient young lad/lass sometimes…

So Monday night, before Pervy gets to the house, I corner Susie.

ME: “Sooo…what are we going to tell Pervy?”

HER: “Well … I say we tell him that he can no longer go in the office. He’s never, ever allowed on our computer again for any reason. He’s not to ask to go in the office to watch TV, listen to music or anything. While he’s here, he stays within our sight.”

ME: “Uh-huh. What if he asks why?”

HER: “We tell him that he’s using our computer to look up websites that we don’t approve of and that we’ve asked him to stop doing it several times in the past. He’s betrayed our trust in him for the last time.”

ME: “Alright. What if he pulls a gun on us?”

HER: “I’m telling him this was all your idea.”

At 7:00, there was a knock on the door.

It was Pervy and his ten year-old brother, Sissy Boy.

Apparently, on their way to the house, Sissy Boy begged and pleaded with his parents to NOT go to Bible Study and to spend the evening at Uncle Bob’s instead.

His parents said it was okay.

NEVERMIND that UNCLE F’N BOB didn’t okay this change in plans…his parents said it was okay.

Y’see…this is the kind of little shit that has made me despise my in-laws. As if it weren’t bad enough we have to keep our eyes on Pervy and make sure he’s not downloading porn … now we have to keep a close eye on Sissy Boy to make sure he’s not inappropriately fondling our son in the playroom.

Anyway, they show up and I retreat to the office like a fish out of water trying to get back in the pond.

Naturally, Pervy follows me. Probably checking out my fine ass the entire time too.

I sit down at the computer desk in silence. Pervy takes up residence in my recliner.

I begin making my wife a CD.

Pervy says “Whatcha doin’?”

I scream “SUSIEEEEEE!!!”

She comes running.

“It’s time,” I say, gesturing with a tilt of my head in Pervy’s direction.

Now, I guess I was expecting some kind of big grandiose production to be made here. I expected doors closing, shades drawn, lights turned down low, a single lightbulb swinging over Pervy’s head with sweat beginning to glisten on his brow.

Susie looked at me. She looked at Pervy.

“Let’s go Pervy,” she said. “Out of the office.”

Pervy got up and followed her out the door, leaving me alone in my office.


Maybe I’m being overly sensitive here … but that didn’t sound like “the talk” we were going to give him.

And with Pervy waddling out behind Susie like a mentally challenged lapdog, he looked as if he were about to be rewarded with a gift or something. He sure didn’t look like the shamed little pervert I was expecting him to look like.

A few minutes later, Susie called out for me to come eat dinner.

“Did you say anything to him?” I whispered.

“No,” she said. “I thought we were going to do it together.”

“We were!” I hissed. “Then you made him leave my office!”

“I thought you just wanted him out of there,” she said, spooning a heap of mashed potatoes on my plate.

“Noooo!” I whispered. “I was ready to talk to him!”

“We’ll do it after dinner,” she said, handing me my plate.

Susie, Andrew, Sissy Boy and I ate dinner while Pervy sat in the den and skimmed through a vintage copy of National Lampoon that I had foolishly left behind in the office.


In the 1970s, National Lampoon would occasionally have nude women in the magazine. This particular issue had a photo essay entitled “How To Hit On Naked Teenage Chicks”. It’s not necessarily erotic … it’s played for laughs.

I started reading National Lampoon when I was 13. Pervy’s 15, almost 16. My moral code just couldn’t force me to say “Look, I read that magazine when I was younger than you, but I don’t want you reading it so hand it over.”

I mean…that’s like a little two year-old being selfish about his toys …right?

So I sat and squirmed while I looked over Pervy’s shoulder at a distance as he taught himself how to pick up naked teenage chicks. Sadly, since the article was a parody that probably went right over Pervy’s pinhead, he’s probably going to think these lines work on fully clothed teenage chicks as well.

After dinner, we all adjourned to the den to watch TV.

Susie and I stared at each other, giving the whole “You start!” “No …YOU start!” vibe back and forth.

Finally, we both got up and went in the kitchen.

“Say something to him!” Susie hissed.

“If I say something, it’ll scar him for life,” I protested. “I’m not going to handle this nicely…I’m out to humiliate and scar the bastard.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say,” she countered. “He’s just sitting there. He’s not hurting anything.”

“Fine,” I said. “We’ll wait until he asks to get on the computer or go in the office.”

So we went back to the den, yanked my son’s penis out of Sissy Boy’s mouth (kidding…I’m kidding!) and sat down.

The hours passed. Andrew and Sissy Boy played with blocks, Pervy read his Gamer magazines and Susie and I waited for him to announce that he was indeed a porn addict.

It never happened.

Susie’s brother came by about 9:15 to pick the boys up, thanked us for watching his wack assed kids while he went and learned a little bit more about Christ and they left.

That….uhhhh…that’s all a bit anti-climactic, huh?

I’m sorry…but it’s the truth. My boy Edweird suggested that I’d better make up some huge blowup which resulted in Pervy being shoved through a plate glass window or something. I almost went that route and made up a buncha crap, but then what happens next week when he finally asks to get on the computer and “The Talk” actually takes place?

“The Talk Part Deux”??


I had to be honest with you cats and catettes. “The Talk” didn’t happen.


Give it time. This is strange for us. We’re not used to having to reprimand someone else’s kid for being a pervert while under our care.

I know I said we were going to broach the subject with his parents, but that’s a bit tough too. Contrary to how I may present myself here, deep down I’m not all that hip on awkward and uncomfortable confrontations when it comes to telling people that their children are massive pervs.

When the time is right, it’ll happen.

Now then…I’ve gone and blown my wad on “The Talk” and don’t have time to share my stories about the sleep study I went through last night.

Maybe tomorrow.

Yeah, maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you guys all about my sleep patterns.


That sure sounds interesting, all right.

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