Who'd want to hurt me? Well, that's a good question. I'm thinking about this rough trick I picked up at a rest stop a decade ago - his name was Joe, I think, but I had to call him "sir." He opened up my mind, Mom, he opened up my mind.
I don't think you could say that he really wanted to hurt me, but there was an awful lot of pain involved. He left me after a few weeks when he said that I was all used up, he left me a confused and sad boy who had grown up a lot. He said that if he ever wanted to use me again, he'd send me the used jock strap he used for a gag and I'd have to wear it back to that same rest stop to meet him again.
I asked you to step into the living room so that I'd be spared from telling you that very story, but now look what I've done. So I guess we should open this thing up and see if there's a jock strap inside!
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