Many, many moons ago, in my single-girl days, there occurred an incident that to this day is probably still the single funniest thing that I can recall from my ‘youth’.
Several friends and I were at a dodgy-yet-packed-to-the-brim bar in Sydney, when my girlfriend Tania caught the attention of a rather handsome boy. In due course, said boy casually sauntered over and began a conversation with her.
As soon as the boy had gone to visit the bathroom, Tania leaned over to me and whispered: "He's a bit stupid, pet. I may have a small problem now". When I enquired as to what the problem was, she said “I told him my name was 'Fellatio' ... and I think he believes me”.
Now, I really didn’t think at the time that anyone was that dumb, and I told her so. That made her feel better. And for a moment we were actually thinking he was clever to ‘go along with it’. But then we heard it:
“Fellatio ... there you are !”
So, I did what any good girlfriend would do and ran to the ladies room to honk and shriek with laughter in (relative) privacy, and then returned to see how “Fellatio” and her ardent admirer were getting along.
A panicked-looking Tania pounced on me from out of the crowd and announced that “We have to leave”. I was about to ask why, but my words died on my tongue when I heard the swansong of her wannabe-suitor ringing out loud and clear across the packed bar behind us ... “Fellatio ... where are you ? ... FELLATIO ...”.
“You idiot ...” I began to hiss at her, but that was all I could get out before we started to laugh. We looked at each other and we were history. We knew we could never outrun him, so we half fell/half crawled underneath a table and held on to each other, choking with hysterical mirth.
“FELLATIO !" he yelled, only a few feet from the table. Tania and I fell on top of each other, gasping and crying, far too weak with laughter to get back up. Suddenly she pointed and said “I can see his feet, look”.
They were only inches away. I reached my hand out from underneath the table, horror-movie-style, and went for his ankle. I was only inches away when ... “FELLATIO !”. It made me jump, and I whacked my head on the bottom of the table.
“Ooooooooh” I was saying, rubbing my head “Owwwwww”. Tania was nothing but a useless heap on the smelly, grubby floor, tears pouring from her eyes, laughing so hard that it was all she could manage to do to keep her face off the ground.
By the time she and I had passed a happy twenty minutes by laughing at each others’ laughs, pointing at the guys shoes, and trying not to pee our pants, the shoes disappeared and we were finally able to emerge from underneath the table and bolt for the ladies’ bathroom.
There was only one vacant stall and we went for it at the same time. With both of us wedged in there, Tania got to go first while I danced around waiting, and then, as I sat perched on the seat, we heard the following exchange through the door:
“Yeah, and they chucked that stupid guy out that kept yelling about blow jobs”
“No way. What a moron”
My mouth opened in a round ‘O’ of horror, and Tania doubled over laughing again. She slid down the wall and fell on the toilet-roll holder, which broke with a loud crack and snapped off, taking with it an enormous chunk of plaster, and propelling the toilet roll itself into the air and over the door of the toilet stall.
There was a knock at the stall door, and a concerned female voice enquired as to whether “we were okay in there ?”. That was the end of me. I was forced to remain perched on the toilet for some further ten minutes before I could regain sufficient composure to stand and pull my pants up.
To complicate matters, Tania and I were forced to exit the toilet stall and make a dash for the door looking most disheveled (after also having made loud grunting noises for some time, and having sent the loo roll flying like a streamer over the door into the busy bathroom).
The assembled judgemental faces gave me no choice. I had to say it: “Wait for me, Fellatio ...”
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