It’s freezing out on the porch tonight.
Nitram is doing his dance. When he gets cold out on the porch, he does something no sane person should do: stands away from the wall, right in the path of the wind, rocks from side to side with his legs all stiff and slightly spread.
Hey, if I was a guy, I would not let my junk get in the wind like that. But guy or girl, you’ve got to have some sense when you’re out on the porch in November and it’s not much above 20 degrees and really windy: you stand next to the wall, hunker down in all your layers of coats and sweats and slippers, and DO NOT SPREAD YOUR LEGS.
Common sense, c’mon. When you’re cold, you do not open your most vulnerable areas to the biting, chilling wind.
Me: The fuck’re you doing? That dance. How can that help?
Nitram: The cops get told to stamp their feet when they’re on patrol in winter.
Me: Stamping your feet is one thing, airing your junk is another.
Nitram: Airing your…. what? What??
Me: You’re exposing your package to the elements! Do like I do! Stand and shiver!
Nitram: You’re crazy.
Me: Right, I’m crazy. I’m not the one letting my danglies catch the winter breeze.
Nitram: This keeps me warm.
Me: Oh really. If you’re so warm, how come you’re the one miserable out here and I’m the one all toasty. Ya gotta protect the jewels.
Nitram: You don’t have any jewels!
Me: I do too! They’re just all tucked away, nice and safe and warm like they’re supposed to be. You don’t see me airing my cooze to the wind.
Nitram: I am not airing, I’m trying to keep warm!
Me: Put your legs together!
Nitram: Oh jeeze…
Me: No really. So if you put your legs together, wouldn’t that shield everything?
Me: What. Well, you know how guys sit.
Nitram: How do guys sit?
Me (spreads legs wide, semi-squats, trying to make like Bubba): You know, like this, with all their stuff all exposed and shit.
Nitram: And shit.
Me (straightens up, closing legs to protect the good stuff): Damn, that’s cold. Hey, what happens to your junk when you sit like that? I guess it all falls down.
Nitram (chokes on beer): WHAT. It does not… what??
Me: You know, if you sit like Bubba, first it’s in the front — I guess — and if you spread your legs, it all… flops onto the seat, the chair?
Nitram: I gotta go inside.
Me: No, wait, what happens?
Nitram: It does not… it doesn’t flop anywhere… oh Jesus Christ.
Me: Come on, tell me. What happens? Where do your ghoolies go?
Nitram: Nothing happens!
Me: Doesn’t it have to go somewhere…?
Me: Well, show me.
Me: Well, shit. How will I ever I ever know?
Nitram: Why don’t you get Neal to show you. You two are always talking about gross things.
Me: I don’t want to see Neal’s junk! I always see yours, why won’t you show me how you sit!
Nitram: I’m going in.
Me: I’d show you how I sit.
Nitram: I’m going in.
Oh, sure, that’s right: when in the wrong, or intimidated — or when your junk is cold — retreat.
But DO NOT SPREAD YOUR LEGS.