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The Journal of Literary Satire | Hastily Written & Slopilly Edited
Monday, June 25, 2007

Sexual Frustrations in Your Town

by Anthony Jaffe

Melons—Twenty-nine years old, and Michael was still woefully inexperienced in the ways of love, having never caressed a woman’s fully functioning pancreas.

—Poor, poor Brenda. So many heavenly bodies twinkling in the night sky, yet she could only achieve orgasm at the sight of Halley’s Comet.

—Mark’s zoophilia was problematic on several levels. There was the social stigma, of course, and then there was the more practical issue of how to physically consummate his love of plankton.

—The women of Ipanema were naked and copiously oiled, but their glistening skin made Rory’s blinding migraines even worse, especially when they performed their jiggly-wiggly dances.

—The intricate system of trusses, girders, and flying buttresses was as architecturally magnificent as it was ultimately impractical as far as Sam’s erectile dysfunction was concerned.

—Kinky Veronica insisted her lover wear a Chester Nimitz mask, though the admiral’s stern countenance often rekindled painful memories of Guadalcanal.

—Not only did the prostitute demand a hefty premium to perform the “Ozark Flapjack,” there was also an additional surcharge for the grappling hooks and pimento-cheese spread. And Tom told her that was highway robbery, plain and simple.

—Oliver’s homemade aphrodisiac attracted only a swarm of confused bees, which thoroughly pollinated the unemployed carpenter before stinging him into unconsciousness.

—Despite her best efforts to buy up all the iodized salt in town, the supermarkets always seemed one step ahead of young Mary. And that is why her goiter fetish went tragically unfulfilled.

—Folks knew that Keith, the gay Confederate Civil War reënactor, loved a man in uniform. No one suspected, however, that his loins ached most for men in Union blue.

—Tantric enthusiasts Janet and Rick enjoyed 36 hours of uninterrupted coitus last week. But ecstasy turned to melancholy when they realized they had missed All-You-Can-Eat-Riblets Night at Applebee’s.

Anthony Jaffe is is a writer in Atlanta.