The Shark and the Shmuck

Last night I was circumcised. Not voluntarily, I might add. The only doctor capable of performing the procedure, in the area I live in, was known for using an unorthodox method.

It was all a big blur, but I remember his assistant holding me down since I was terrified that they were not using an anesthetic. Then the doctor produced the instrument he was famous for using. It was a toy shark-on-a-stick, the kind you squeeze the handle of and the jaws chomp down, and the teeth had been modified to be extra sharp. Realizing I was not going to pass out and would have to endure this pain full-throttle, I closed my eyes and braced myself for what no man wants to endure. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt at all! The sharks teeth went cleanly through and left a pleasant tingly feeling. With some cotton balls applied to the area, I was a new man and sent on my merry way.

Oh, and because it would be uncomfortable, I wasn’t allowed to wear clothing for the next little while, so had to walk around naked everywhere I went. It was only mildly embarrassing, though.