Shopping with Mom...

I never knew Christmas shopping could be so...awkward...

Mom and I had gotten what we needed that day, and were about to pack it in. After a moment, we wound up stopping for dinner, because we both figured we'd rather eat there than go home and cook...hey, it's Christmas, right?

A few doors down from the restaurant was a sex shop. It looked kinda small, and kinda run down, but hey, sex stores are fun. As we walked by, my Mom looked through the window and said, "Maybe we should get your father something from in there, he always talks about going in...sometimes I think he's serious!"

We both laughed, because it's true; he's always joking about needing to stop off for a few things. At least, I hope he's always joking...

We sat down to dinner, and tried again in vain to figure out some small gift for Dad to open that would be a complete surprise. My mind kept pulling back to the sex store...what could I possibly find in there? I kept racking my brain...after all, what do straight men buy at sex shops? Considering most of their stock is, uh, penetrable items, I don't understand what the average straight dude buys.

After dinner, we were walking past the store again, and I knew it was now or never. "I'm going in," I said, laughing, "are you coming?"

Might as well play this for all it was worth...

She hesitated for a second, then nodded. And so, mother and gay son entered the den of inequity together.

I tried not to make it too obvious that I was staring at all the, uh, penetrable products, because I didn't want to scare her too badly. I was half expecting a quiet question about my experiences, after me blurting out, "Well damn, they don't have a lot of selection, do they?"

In the novelty section, cards, candy and games were priced to sell. I selected a pair of chocolate tits for dear old dad, and made my way further into the store. We hit the lingerie section, complete with articles for him and her. Jokingly I walked to the His section, scanning the wall until inspiration hit.

There, hanging low on the rack, was a Tartan jockstrap.

It was a regular jock with no material in the crotch, and a little curtain of silky Tartan-patterned fabric covering the crotch. We both burst out laughing.

That was it! That was the present! A perfect gag gift that will make for hilarity all day. We both could not stop laughing at the imagined antics of said strap, which, though not sporting the family Tartan, will be the source for most laughs of the day. I have no doubt that at some point it will wind up on my father, grandmother, lamp, Christmas tree and possibly the turkey.

Surprisingly enough, Mom seemed to really get into it. "Make sure you get the right size," she said. Oh God, I don't want to know what happens to this thing after Christmas day...

That night I went home and wrapped it up in a big box, weighed down by two cans of beans. So my fathers new Tartan jockstrap is now tucked under the tree, with Grandma's body wash, Mom's new purse and Grandpa's box of chocolates.

Twisted Christmas.