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I wasn’t present when this went down, but I know a couple people that were directly involved. Apparently, when $panky was in college, he met friends rather quickly. He wasn’t shy, was baroque, and always had a dirty joke or some off the wall story to tell.
After about a month into the semester, you could say $panky had somewhat of a posse, a following of a younger crowd made up mostly of frosh and sophs. Being a bit older than the rest also lent to his credibility.
There was this one kid in particular (we’ll call him John to protect the innocent) who was part of the posse. He was very quiet, never drank, was thin, always dressed nice, but his self-esteem was in the shitter and he was extremely shy.
When $panky heard that this kid made it all the way to college without ever going out on a date, never had a girlfriend, and never been shagged. $panky was on a mission to get this boy some tail!
There was the always a lot of drinking going on, and on any occasion you could see drunk college students staggering into walls, trying to light smokes at the wrong end, or bragging about how hot the chick they nailed last weekend was. There were always people passed out too.
For the poor bastards that did pass out, they were in for a big surprise! Pictures were taken with bottles and cans stacked around them, their face would be written on with a pen, somebody would almost always stick their bare ass in the face of the passed out guy for that classic photo for Mother, and occasionally, someone would dangle their junk in the victims face for that special *Kodak* moment.
Well, the inevitable happened. Our boy “John” finally met a girl, and asked her out to dinner. She accepted.
With a little liquid courage, he was loose enough to make relevant conversation with her, laughed when he was supposed to, and was genuinely interested in listening to what she had to say.
The drinks were flowing and the food was good. It wasn’t too long before they moved the party to her dorm room and proceeded to “get busy” – which they did I sure hope that condom he had been carrying in his wallet for the last four years was going to hold up!
Anyway, John left when his new girlfriend’s roommate showed up. He kissed her goodnight and headed straight away to $panky’s to share his good news.
When he arrived, it was still relatively early (maybe midnight). There were about 6 or 8 people there milling around with brews in hand listening to Floyd.
After the high 5’s, the atta boys, and the rest of the guys trying to pry the gory details of the event out of him, John continued to celebrate and finally did admit that the rubber he had was way too old, he couldn’t unroll it properly so it was not used. His new girlfriend assured him it would be OK because she was on the pill.
Then $panky jumped in.
He was rattling off all the STDs John could have been exposed to from that one encounter. The worse of which being the: “Black Syph”, where your junk would turn black and fall off. And, it doesn’t take long either.
Now $panky was just pulling his chain, but John was the type of guy you shouldn’t kid around with. Especially something as profound and new in his life as getting laid for the first time. You have to be gentle with John. He was fragile to begin with. Apparently, $panky never attended a sensitivity training course.
What could have been one of John’s greatest nights of his life was now turning into a nightmare. He was now petrified about the whole ordeal especially with the $pankster going on and on about the “Black Syph”.
John was scared to death and continued to drink enough to pass out. Bad move. One of the guys present was taking an illustration and calligraphy course. $panky turned is head to the graphic artist in training and said 5 simple words:
“Get me the India Ink.”
India ink is basically made from the soot of different items bound together with shellac. It’s much more indelible than a Sharpie.
When the ink showed up, $panky went to work on this most evil prank whereby painting the tip of John’s junk with a paper towel dipped in India Ink.
When it was dry, the $pankmeister gently replaced painted unit back in John’s Levis and buttoned up the 501s like nothing ever happened.
$panky said John left sometime in the morning before the rest of them woke up and wasn’t seen for days. He didn’t stop by the dorm, didn’t hang out with the posse, and started missing classes. John was clearly wrapped up in serious panic, agonizing fear, and loathing. A complete and total mind job.
When John did finally climb out of seclusion, he was a new man! He had gone to a doctor to get it checked out. The doctor told him he was fine and that he’s hanging out with the wrong friends.
“Who would put someone under this much unnecessary worry, stress, and anxiety?” The doctor asked. John just shrugged.
John did get over it, and started hanging out with the posse again. He was even able to laugh about it after a while.
I guess finding out you don’t have the “Black Syph” would change one’s outlook on life to be sure.
John never drank enough to pass out again.
