“Take some pictures of your dick before we upload.”
I blink back at Mini. “What? Why?”
Mini rolls his eyes at me. “Phone is left somewhere obvious. Phone is found preloaded with pictures of an underage kiddie’s junk. Phone’s owner is whisked off to a nice, cozy prison cell.”
I can see the potential of Mini’s proposal, but to tell you the truth, I’m not too fond of having pictures of my penis floating around on Robbie’s phone. What if the person who finds it also happens to like little boys? Or what if whoever finds it simply returns the phone to Robbie without poking through his files first? I’ll just be doing him a favor.
“I think I’ll keep my private parts to myself,” I tell Mini.
“Just shoot from the waist down,” he says. “It’s not like anyone can ID you from looking at your groin.”
“Underwear was invented for a reason: to keep certain body parts under.”
“Yeah, but there are also times when it’s perfectly reasonable or even necessary to let your wang out.”
“Taking a leak. Showering. Skinny-dipping. Laundry day. Illustrating a point during delicate social situations where mooning isn’t logistically feasible. Washing your hot-ass neighbor’s car. Doing the nasty with her in the backseat afterward.”
“Those are all very interesting, but I’m still not going to take pictures of myself for Robbie.”
Mini looks disappointed. “So, we should just stand idly by and wait for the Shota King to track down Ernie and offer him a ride on the Snack Food Express? You know the boy’s no good when it comes to sweets! One box of honey buns and Robbie will have him eating out of his hand. A whole backseat full of honey buns and the next thing you know he’ll have Ernie wearing the donut suit from Sex Drive and singing Simple Minds’ ‘Let There Be Love’ while the two of them drive off into the sunset together!” He sighs, holds out his hand. “Never mind. Just give it here.”
I stare at him, incredulous.
“The phone, not your dick.”
Oh. Of course. I set Mini on the ground and hand him Robbie’s phone.
“Now, look away,” he says, working the touchscreen with his mitts.
I turn my back to him. Momentarily I can see and hear the phone’s camera flash going off. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“You won’t let your dick pose for the camera, so I’m using mine.”
Theo’s doll has a penis.
“Hey—hey!” Theo shouts. “Stop that!”
(SMN being an always-on app, while I’m only listening to the sound of Mini taking pictures of his own crotch, Theo is likely staring at a screen full of puppet wang right about now.)
“Okay, I’m finished,” Mini says after a moment.
I turn around.
Mini presents Robbie’s phone to me as he would a birthday gift. Indeed, and don’t ask me how, he’s affixed a colorful red bow to the touchscreen.
Taking the phone, I check Theo’s SMN window. He’s biting his fingernails nervously. There are skulls(?) piled high behind him.
“Are you ready to upload?” he asks.
I start to answer, but Mini tugs on my pant leg and starts across the street, toward the shopping plaza.
“Perfect!” he yells. “There’s a Verizon store over there! Those guys are always poking through people’s files, right?”
“We’ll leave the phone on the sidewalk near the door. They’ll find it when they open in the morning, and all will be right with the—”
Mini doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because at that moment a gigantic SUV teeming with kids fresh from some kind of practice and being driven by the mother of all frazzled soccer moms comes barreling down the street. The front wheel of the SUV pulls Mini under, then spits him out in quick succession; he goes flying through the air and lands in the darkness somewhere down the street.
The SUV continues on unbothered.
“What’s happening?” Theo asks.
“Mini just got hit by a car,” I reply.
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