I realized on my ride back home yesterday that I had forgotten something at work: my bag of dicks. Before the pandemic froze the world, a friend mailed me a rainbow of micro-penises to attach to valve caps so that I could make the cycling world a gayer place. (The same friend gifted me dog testicles stuffed in an olive jar years ago.) Since it was just me and Yann in the bike shop, I figured it’d be the perfect time to mix up a drop of epoxy to fuse the caps and dicks together.
But, the epoxy had been put away after the ski season ended, so I couldn’t get that done. I don’t know my co-workers well, so I’m not entirely comfortable with them finding out that I carry around a bag of dicks.
Whoever had gotten into the bike shop first this morning put aside the bulging bubble mailer. When Yann arrived a few hours later, there was no need for him to ask, “Excuse me, have you seen Laura’s bag of dicks?”
He had to deal with receiving a text from me that asked, “Don’t forget my bag of dicks!”
And, when he came home, he was able to gloriously proclaim, “I have your bag of dicks in my bag!”
I could have called them novelty valve cap covers, but where’s the fun in that?
As much as I appreciate Yann, he’s no Yan of Yan and Henck fame.