I didn’t take the blue diamond pill. I palmed it and took it home.
Being the ever wise and analytical one, I looked it up on-line first. Side effects include headache and facial flushing. Fine, this sounds like my normal morning routine.
The Internet also suggested that you buy 100 mg doses, cut them in half, and have two 50 mg doses. Hey, I’m frugal. I got a small serrated knife out of the kitchen drawer, put the pill on a small plate, and sawed away at the pill. Now I have two pill halves and a little pill dust.
I ate one half of the pill and licked the pill dust for good measure. I then sat down quietly beside my wife on the couch.
Five minutes, fifteen minutes, thirty minutes passed. My wife asked, “Are you feeling anything?”
“My nose itches,” I said.
I got hungry, so I made a sandwich. I then ate the sandwich. I then returned to the couch, where I previously sat.
I was expecting some sort of diabolical sign, perhaps some sort of manic ringing in my liver or the sudden desperate need for orange juice or something, but as far as I could tell this wasn’t happening. We continued to watch Queer Eye For the Straight Guy peaceably.
Finally I said, “Perhaps it’s not working.”
Finally she said, “Perhaps let’s go to bed.”
And we went to bed. At this point, sex broke out.
And I have to inform you that, while it was good sex, it wasn’t particularly acrobatic or abnormal in any specific or mentionable way. “It was good sex,” my wife informed me, “but, it was not, in any way, Viagrific.”
Now, based on the type and amount of unsolicited commercial e-mail I get, I am guessing there are about four hundred million flaccid guys in the US who need to get a little blue diamond pill to straighten things out.
I am, apparently, not one of those guys.
Hell, I dunno. Perhaps I should have taken the whole blue pill.
