(first appeared at behindcloseddoorslitmag.wordpress.com on 2/15/2013)
There are two kinds of itches. Don’t ask me what an itch is, I have no idea, but I do know there are two varieties. There’s the garden-variety itch that you scratch and that’s the end of it and then there’s the bouncing itch. The itch that when scratched just starts to itch somewhere else.
And you never know what you’ve got on your hands until you scratch it. The most important thing to remember when you get an itch is to stay calm. Panicking is the absolute worst thing you can do. Just breathe slowly and evaluate where the itch is and how badly it’s itching.
Can you live with it? That’s the first question you must ask yourself before you go barreling off and vigorously apply a little of the ol’ fingernail to the affected area in question. Are you willing to play itch roulette? Sure, you’ve got a 50/50 chance that one scrape will bring your business to a satisfactory conclusion but are you willing to take that chance?
Here’s why you might want to slow your roll and just endure where the itch is currently setting up shop.
It could bounce to the sole of your foot. Even above the annoyance of having to take off your shoe and sock to get at the offender, you run right into the stark reality that an itch on the bottom of your foot is almost impossible to scratch. It seems immune to simple fingernails. You’ll sit there scratching and scraping but it continues to be belligerent. Maybe because foot skin is thicker the itch can hunker down but it usually takes getting a fork to dislodge the itch and send it off to its next destination.
Which could be your ass. Again, you’re just playing with probability here and most times it will land on the outer, fleshy regions of your ass and one quick scratch ends the drama and has the itch packing its things and heading elsewhere, but sometimes you don’t get off so lucky. Sometimes the itch lands a few inches deeper in the cavity. Now the funny thing about the ass itch is that it will only go so deep into your anus before it must hit some sort of no-itch zone. I’ve never heard of a colon itch so apparently there is a point of no return, an itch event horizon if you will.
But it can still itch to a depth of a few inches forcing you to make a pretty tough call. Do you scratch and risk the stink finger? I’m not even going to explain, we’ve all been there. The quick scratch that we hope nobody notices. The casual post-scratch sniff. The terrible knowledge that somehow it felt moist as we scratched and we now know there is a little brown dot on the inside of our underpants. We went too deep.
And the worst part is that we were so quick about scratching we didn’t finish the job. We can feel the itch starting back up. It didn’t bounce. An irritating Phoenix rising from the malodorous ashes.
It needs another scratch so we don’t even look around to see who’s watching, we just dive in knuckle-deep into the DMZ seemingly oblivious to the smelly consequences our rash undertaking will produce.
Sometimes the underpants can’t be saved.
They don’t call it a craps table for nothing. When you decide to scratch the first itch you’re picking up the dice and letting them go. And occasionally you roll snake-eyes.
For a man that means the itch ends up on your balls. I honestly don’t know if any of what I’m about to relate translates to the vagina because I’ve never discussed the topic with a woman but I’m about to lay it out in all its horror.
The sack is not made to be itched. You can forget about trying to scratch a sack through your jeans. You can rule that right the fuck out. This squishy mix of skin, hair and testicles is engineered as an itch hideout. You can never tell exactly where the itch is lurking once it makes it into the friendly confines of the male sack. If you try a scrotal scratch through your pants you end up taking the entire sack into your hands and squeezing and pulling to no avail. In fact, the ball hair starts to incite other itches and if you’re not careful you’ll work up a sweat and end up with a full-fledged gonad uprising.
As soon as I feel the itch has landed on my sack I get the feeling that doctors exploring the exposed medulla oblongata must get. Poking around in the folds, touching a certain area and getting one response, touching another and seeing a leg twitch. All the mysteries of the human body laid open to them.
Plus, my sack looks like a brain.
At this point the only thing to do is to retreat to a secure location, drop trou, and stretch out the nutsack like an animal skin and try to hunt down the itch. It’s work not suited for the squeamish but in need of doing just the same. Despite the small area that the sack is given in your pants it’s actually quite pliant and, when alarmed, can cover an area equivalent to a regulation-sized pool table. I used the term “alarmed” because I had the image of a sack responding to a threat in the manner of a puffer fish/airbag and I found it amusing so I thought I’d share.
I do realize that this gross misrepresentation of the male genitalia has caused the story to grind to a halt so let me try and recover by replacing one sack image with another, equally disturbing image.
You know how American Indians would stretch out a bison skin on a big rack in order to dry it out or whatever the fuck reason they had for stretching out skins? That’s what you have to do with your package in order to locate where the itch is holding up.
Are we back on the same page now?
That’s a shame. I feel like I only scratched the surface of this topic.
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