I went out for dinner with Aidan the tinyblog boy and his mom last night. We went to Tacos Guymas, on Broadway, right across the street from a Castle Superstore, a large sex shop with a big marquee in front.
I had some wierd thing that was like a chimichanga but filled with chicken, bacon and spinach. Actually pretty good.
Aidan looked across the street and stared at the Castle Superstore marquee. "Oh damn," he said, "they took down the Climax Fruit Bomb sign. Now I'll never find out."
"Wha?" I said, intelligently.
His mom began to hold her head in her hands.
"They used to have a sale, 20% off Climax Fruit Bombs. Now I'll never know what they were."
I was puzzled, "You'll know in about 15 minutes when I walk in there and ask for you. I'm sure they still know what they are."
His eyes lit up, "You will?!"
"Sure. I wouldn't joke about that. If they're under four dollars, whatever they are, I'll get you one."
He started to get all excited, "My mom wouldn't do it."
I looked at her. "No!" she said, probably for the 30th time.
After some lively speculation among him, me, and his mom about what a Climax Fruit Bomb might be, he rushed me through my meal and practically pushed me out the door to find out, at long last, what a Climax Fruit Bomb was.
Turns out it's just fancy flavored lube in a bomb-like package. At Castle it was 17.99, which even at 20% off looks way more expensive than you can get it online. So I didn't get any.
I guess buying flavored lube for a 13 year old boy has some sticky ethical questions associated with it, but it seemed like the right thing to offer at the time.
Anyway, then we got into a big dildo discussion, to his Mom's combined amusement and chagrin, and even got some details about her non-illustrious sex toy history. Just goes to show you, it's more fun to score points with kids than moms.