Fun with piercings
Body piercing is something I’ve never been terribly interested in, on a personal level. I have no problem with it on other people, and often find it quite attractive, I just have never felt any need nor desire to do it to myself. For quite a few years, I used to joke that I was a “freak among freaks”, as I was the only one in my group of friends who was “unmodified” — no piercings, no tattoos, no body modification of any sort. Once I got my tattoo that was less true, but I’d still joke about it from time to time.
One night, the club I was DJ’ing at had just closed down, and our group of late night rabble rousers had found our way over to our usual post-club breakfast spot, “Vinyl” (Village Inn, Northern Lights — VINL). Most of the wait staff there had gotten used to us, generally we were liked, or at least tolerated. A bit rowdy, to be sure, all amped up on sugar and caffeine, but as the club was a non-alcoholic all-ages dance club, at least we weren’t drunk and rowdy.
We were being especially energetic this night, and at some point when the waitress came by, one of us apologized to her for being so raucous. “Oh, don’t even worry about it,” she assured us. “You’re not that bad, and besides — working the bar rush shift, I don’t think there’s anything that’ll surprise me anymore.”
Oooh — a challenge! Marc and I looked at each other. To this day, I have no idea where the inspiration came from, as I don’t remember us discussing this in the least. One way or another, though, our Muse was with us.
“Excuse me — miss?”
“I bet we could surprise you.”
“Yup. Tell you what. If we can come up with something you’ve never seen before — that won’t get us kicked out or arrested — we get our breakfast for free, okay?”
She laughed. “All of you?”
“No, no — just us two,” I said, pointing to Marc and myself.
We grinned. I grabbed the Dr. Pepper she had just brought me and set it between us, and Marc took the straw and placed it in front of him on the table. Sticking out his tongue, he calmly unscrewed the ball of his tongue stud, dropped it in the empty coffee creamer dish, then slid the post out and put it in the dish. He then unwrapped the straw, brought it up to his face, and slid the straw into the hole in his tongue until his tongue was halfway along the length of the straw.
“Okay,” said the waitress. “The straw is a little freaky, but I’ve seen people play with their tongue piercings before.”
“No worries,” I said.
Marc then leaned over, letting the bottom end of the straw drop down into my Dr. Pepper. I leaned over, took the top of the straw in my mouth, and proceeded to take a few big sips of my Dr. Pepper, though the straw, right through Marc’s tongue.
We got our breakfast for free.