Spam Javelin
New Member
When I was a small boy we had some American friends staying with us for a couple of weeks. They had a son about my age.
One evening we all went to Blakes for dinner. During the meal Anthony, the american boy, asked to go to the "John". All day myself and Anthony had been slowly breaking down our cultural barriers and sculpting the beginnings of a friendship from our common interests.
In the spirit of this growing camaraderie I said I'd go with him, to get away from the "olds" for a while. As I got up to follow him my da pulled me aside in a very conspiratorial way and whispered in my ear something to the affect that Anthony would have a different penis to mine and I wasn't to stare at it or make fun of him.
I followed hime into the toilet, my mind swirling with curiosity. Sure enough, when we pulled up to a couple of urinals, my eyes were drawn almost magnetically to his crotch. I was relieved, and a little disappointed to discover that our johnsons were much the same, bar the fact that he had a turtle neck to my polo. Unfortunately, Anthony misinterpreted my curiousity and took offence to me staring at his weener and pinched the hose and left.
The rest of the meal was eaten solemnly. I tried of the next few days to rekindle our friendship, but we could never get over that fateful night in the toilet in Blakes. He left a week later. I haven't spoken to him since.
In conclusion. The end.
One evening we all went to Blakes for dinner. During the meal Anthony, the american boy, asked to go to the "John". All day myself and Anthony had been slowly breaking down our cultural barriers and sculpting the beginnings of a friendship from our common interests.
In the spirit of this growing camaraderie I said I'd go with him, to get away from the "olds" for a while. As I got up to follow him my da pulled me aside in a very conspiratorial way and whispered in my ear something to the affect that Anthony would have a different penis to mine and I wasn't to stare at it or make fun of him.
I followed hime into the toilet, my mind swirling with curiosity. Sure enough, when we pulled up to a couple of urinals, my eyes were drawn almost magnetically to his crotch. I was relieved, and a little disappointed to discover that our johnsons were much the same, bar the fact that he had a turtle neck to my polo. Unfortunately, Anthony misinterpreted my curiousity and took offence to me staring at his weener and pinched the hose and left.
The rest of the meal was eaten solemnly. I tried of the next few days to rekindle our friendship, but we could never get over that fateful night in the toilet in Blakes. He left a week later. I haven't spoken to him since.
In conclusion. The end.
