Memoirs of a Worldly Guy
It could have been a simple childhood case of dyslexia or a similar manifestation. There were a number of radio shows popular with members of our gang, including The Lone Ranger, The Green Hornet and The Shadow, among others. The Lone Ranger always opened with the theme music from the William Tell Overture with a 'voice over' saying 'A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust and a hearty 'Hi, ho Silver, Awaayyy!' Creamy was desperately anxious to memorize the line but after a number of fruitless attempts to teach him we decided in our 'kindly' way to teach him something more amusing for us all. As an example: 'A fiery light with a cloud of horse, a hearty Silver and a Ho, ho, Awaaayyy! Now go home and practice that and we'll give you a test when you come back tomorrow.' Rightly or wrongly, we began at that time to suspect that Creamy might be 'a little bit slow' as the saying goes. It was not long before all doubt was removed.
We were talking about 'whacking off' some time ago, I believe. You must remember that these were the 'thirties', not the 'nineties' and public discussion of sex was just 'not done'. There were arcane conversations among a few boys about the subject but these were ordinarily based on rumour and misinformation. A few knew about masturbation but the subject was absolutely never raised in conversation. But then in 1936 testosterone came flowing in like a spring tide and things began to change.
Some mothers were ignoring the crunchy, yellow-stained handkerchiefs in the dirty laundry. Others were mentioning some boy they knew who had gradually gone insane or blind from self-abuse. Others made subtle threats by referring to the ice cold baths used in insane asylums to offset the dreadful effects of the practice. One assumes that this was a result of the spooky biblical holdover of Genesis xxxviii wherein Onanism is subject to serious admonition as interpreted by the priesthood. It seems ironic that an innocent young man was killed by his own father because he refused to impregnate his dead brother's wife! My, how attitudes have changed!
Anyone accused of 'jacking off' was manifestly shocked by the outrageous accusation. Older boys would casually claim that the practice would eventually promote a heavy growth of hair on the palm of the offending hand, then stand by ready to laugh uproariously as the accused would involuntarily glance in a surreptitious manner at the palm of the hand in question.
Creamy was playing with Al and Kenny one day in 'forbidden territory' down by the railroad tracks near the river. A game of 'Tagged Ya' Last' was underway. Creamy was racing along the top of an empty freight car at high speed with Kenny in pursuit when he glanced back to see how close his pursuer was. Bad timing! He shot off the end of the freight car and landed fifteen or twenty feet below. The unyielding ground responded by giving him a broken leg and a broken arm. In due course he was gathered up and delivered by ambulance into the tender hands of the the Sisters at the Holy Cross Hospital.
'Did you hear about Creamy?' Al asked me a few days later.
'You already told me,' I said. 'He broke his leg, didn't he? Pretty stupid if you ask me!'
'Nobody asked you!'
'That's true.'
'And his arm.' Al added. 'That's not what I meant, though,' he said significantly,
'Well, what did you mean?'
'Well,' Al said, looking like a cat who'd just caught a canary, 'after he'd been there for a while, one of those sweet young sisters came in and gave him a little specimen bottle.' I thought immediately of Creamy's compulsive onanistic habits.
'Jaysus, Jaysus! Don't tell me he jerked off into the urine sample bottle! Good Lord! Why wouldn't he have used a towel or a Kleenex?'
'Apparently he couldn't leave the bed and there was no Kleenex. He figured the bottle was a gift sent from Heaven!'
'He would! What did the sisters think of it?'
'Not very much! They didn't even know what it was at first! But he did get get a visit and a stern lecture from the Mother Superior.'
'Imagine those sweet little sisters having to deal with all those billions of male sperm. I wonder if any of them thought of it as a terrible waste?'
'What an absolutely dreadful thought,' Al said with a cynical smile. 'And I'm not even a 'Cat-licker'.'
'But 'whacking off' being a mortal sin and all, I doubt if the little darlings even allowed themselves to think about it!'
'Yeah, sure!' Al replied
'Yeah, right!' I said. 'Anyway I assume he learned his lesson.'
'Not exactly,' Al said, suppressing a laugh with difficulty.
'You're joking!' I said.
'Nope! You've got to remember Creamy's probably the horniest guy we know, maybe the horniest guy in all of Calgary. There was no way a 'dressing-down' by the 'C.C.W.I.C' was going to affect that. He had to find some place to dispose of the products of his loathsome habit.'
'What the hell is the 'C.C.W.I.C.'?'
'The Chief Covered Wagon in Charge!'
'Jeez! I never heard that one before; I gotta remember that one! So anyway, where did Creamy dispose of the pudding? Don't tell me, let me guess! In his bed pan?'
'Couldn't take a chance! They were watching him like hawks! Give up?'
'Yeah, I give! The suspense is killing me! Where was it going?'
'In his arm cast!'
'Now I know you're kidding! Migawd, how disgusting! Where do you hear all this crap, anyway?i'
'From Kenny, he gets it from Georgie.'
'And Georgie gets it from his friend, who just happens to know a priest.'
'Exactly! Kenny says the C.C.W.I.C. gets the scoop from all the sisters and the priest gets the full story from her. Georgie only has to ask and his friend tells him.'
'Call me nuts,' I said, 'but for some reason this all sounds illegal to me.'
'What we call illegal and the R.C. church calls illegal are two different things!'
'So it seems. Anyway, how did Creamy make out with the new tactic?'
'Not all that great. After two or three days one of the sisters became aware of an odd smell and reported it to the C.C.W.I.C. and the cat was out of the bag.'
'And Creamy was out of the hospital.'
'Right! they phoned through to his folks and suggested he finish his recuperation at home. I suspect that they were afraid he'd start using the leg cast next!'
'I wonder if they told his folks the reason.'
'Probably not! That would be a job for the priest, I assume.'
'Nice job!'
A couple of weeks later Creamy, on crutches, showed up again at the vacant lot behind Georgie's place.
'Gee, you weren't in there long!' Jimmy said.
'No, they like to get you out fairly quick these days,' Creamy said with an embarrassed smile.
'I'll bet they do!' Al said, straight-faced.
'Were the sisters sweet to you?' I asked.
'Not particularly, Why?'
'Nothing, just wondering! You didn't get to look up any of their skirts, by any chance, did you?' This drew surly looks from a couple of the Catholic schoolboys clustered around. 'Just kidding!' I said quickly.
'From what I hear, you could be planning to go for the World's Record as soon as you get your strength back,' Al said.
'World's Record? What World's Record?' Creamy asked.
'Don't tell me you haven't heard of the Backwhacker's Hall of Shame, excuse me, Hall of Fame, Freudian slip there! I thought everyone who was serious about pulling his wire would know about it!'
'Well, it's news to me!' Creamy said.
'Well, it's not really publicized much, as you can understand. It's really a privately run organization, more of a prestige sort of thing than a big money event. I'm afraid it's all done according to the 'honour system'. Some contestants find it difficult to perform if they have an audience!'
'I can understand that,' Creamy said. He was beginning to express interest. 'When is it run?' he asked.
'It's quite flexible , actually. Contestants are allowed to send in their results any time between June first and August thirty-first.'
'Who all competes?'
'Oh, guys in bedrooms all over the world are competing for the trophy. You'd be surprised.'
'Well, what is the trophy?' Creamy enquired impatiently.
'Oh, didn't I mention that?' I said, trying to look calm as my mind frantically fabricated answers as I went along. 'It's a very attractive gold-trimmed oaken escutcheon with two rigid cocks rampant against a clenched fist.' I didn't know what I was talking about, of course, but either did anyone else, including Creamy, so it didn't really matter.
'I'm in!'
'Excuse me?'
'I said I'm in!' Creamy said again.
'That was a bit hasty,' I said. 'You realize, of course, that there are a number of unwritten rules you'll have to abide by?'
'I'm game!' Creamy said enthusiastically.
'Way to go, Creamy,' said Bobby, 'we're pulling for you all the way!'
'Watch your language!' Al said sternly.
'In the days that followed there was little else discussed during the after-school gatherings in Georgie's vacant lot as Creamy went into serious training for his attempt at the World Record. I had told Creamy that practice runs were strictly forbidden and that he was to concentrate on building up his reserves for the big push (or 'pull', to be more precise). 'Abstinacy' was to be his byword.
'Creamy's getting a bit concerned about the number of eggs he's eating. He reckons he'll be up to a dozen raw eggs daily by the big day and he thinks his mother is getting suspicious.'
'I can smuggle a couple of eggs a day out of the house,' Stewie said.
'Me, too,' Jimmy said. We soon had more than enough eggs pledged for the big drive.
'Pints of milk can be used too, if anyone can supply a bottle or two.'
'When's Creamy planning to go for it?' Bobby asked.
'His folks are planning to visit their relatives in Spokane next weekend, so he'll have the whole day to himself. He plans to get an early start in the morning.'
'What is the record, anyway?' Stewie asked naively.
Al treated him to an incredulous look. 'Step over here for a minute, please, Stewie,' I said. We walked about thirty feet off to one side of the group 'There is no record, stupid!' I said, 'sotto voce' 'Don't you know that? There isn't even an International Backwhackers Organization. It's all just a harmless practical joke.' Stewie blushed red, embarrassed for exposing his ignorance.
'Anybody else here living in the dark?' I said. There was no response. 'For your information, I've told Creamy the record is nine.'
The week dragged slowly by; Saturday came and went. On Sunday the gang went straight from Sunday School to the vacant lot to hear Creamy's report. When he finally came hobbling down the steet he appeared to be in remarkably good spirits in spite of his otherwise haggard appearance.
'Well, I did it!' he exclaimed happily as soon as he was within earshot. A small cheer emanated from his small gathering of supporters. As he reached the group he extended his hand toward me for the expected felicitations.
'Did you wash your hands?' I said cynically.
'Of course I did!' he said indignantly. I took his hand reluctantly.
'How many times?' I said.
'Ten! That's gotta be a new record, right?'
'I think you've done it, all right. Congratulations! We'll get Al to make the necessary arrangements.' The other boys took turns shaking hands solemnly with the new World Champion.
'It's not necessary to kneel,' I said caustically.
'Do you feel like talking about it?' Bobby enquired solicitously.
'Yeah, I guess so.' Creamy said thoughtfully. 'For one thing, it took a lot longer than I thought it would. My first 'wank' was great, of course, after that long wait. I nearly fainted!'
'You were probably in overload from all those raw eggs,' Kenny said. I'm surprised you didn't have any wet dreams.'
'That could be true,' Creamy said, 'but you'll be surprised to know that I couldn't get it up again for ten or fifteen minutes.'
'That's normal,' I said, knowledgeably.
'Well, anyway, I had hoarded some Petty drawings from Esquire for inspiration and that was a big help.'
'Good move!' Kenny said.
'Anyway,' Creamy continued, 'I stayed with it and had four in by noon, so I decided to have some lunch. I whipped up four raw eggs in a glass of homogenized milk, then I lay down for a nap.'
'Were you still feeling horny?' Bobby asked.
'What's the matter with you, anyway?' Kenny said crankily. 'You writing a book or something?'
'Sorry!' Bobby said.
'After my nap, which lasted about an hour, I got three off in about an hour and a half. I felt like I was getting into a sort of rhythm. The only problem was my prick was getting kind of sore.'
'Damn!' Kenny said. 'I knew there was something I'd forgotten! We should have made sure you had some salve.'
'It's okay,' Creamy said. I found a jar of my mother's cold cream; it was very soothing. Helpful, too, because I began to think I was starting to go dry.'
'We warned you about that,' Kenny said. 'Dry runs don't count, you require at least one drop for it to qualify!'
'Yeah, yeah, I know! You've got nothing to worry about.' I finished number ten just before I dropped off to sleep.'
'Jeez!' Jimmy said, 'I hope you didn't stick your pecker right into the cold cream jar! They say no two pecker tracks are identical.'
'Don't be stupid,' Kenny said. 'It's finger prints that are unique, not pecker tracks!'
'You can't be too careful,' Jimmy grumbled, chastened.
'Here comes Al,' said Jimmy. 'He looks like his best friend just died!'
'Darn near time,' Kenny said. 'Where the heck have you been, anyway, Al?'
'I've got some bad news,' Al said gloomily. 'I've been over at my neighbor's place. He has a short wave radio and he was just getting in a report from South Africa.'
'So?'
'So apparently some guy down there has just checked in with a total of eleven! He's still conscious but they've had to take him to the hospital.'
'Creamy just finished telling us he'd done ten! That's a damn shame!'
'Jeez, Creamy, I'm really sorry. I just don't know what to say.' Al commiserated. Creamy seemed to slump noticeably. I couldn't tell whether it was a tear drop or a bead of perspiration I saw trickle down his cheek.
'Sometimes I think there's no limit to how mean you guys can be!' Georgie said as we watched Creamy shuffling off down the street toward his home.
'Aw, heck,' Al said. 'It was just a harmless little joke; no harm done as far as I can see; at least he won't be having any wet dreams for a while.''
'I agree,' I said. 'At least Creamy's had his moment of glory, even if it was short-lived. He'll be able to tell his grandchildren some day that he was a World Champion!'
'Yeah, but at what?' asked Stewie.
'I'm sure he'll think of something, otherwise he can just skip over that part. Anyway, he'll never be at a loss for something to do if things get boring.'
'That's gross!' Georgie said.
— The End —