Wilma Wanker and the Chocolate factory

My parents were always doing the Fred Flintstone thing. You know, when Fred tries to do all these get rich quick schemes usually with hilarious and disastrous results..

They posted a "send a dollar to Santa" ad in the back of a supermarket tabloid and then sent some cheap ass toy to whatever poor kid reads that shit. I was about 8 years old telling them that Santa would never send a shitty toy like that...this would guilt them into sending something decent making them lose money on the deal.

Amway.... High pressure annoy your friends and neighbors every night until they sign up or shoot you...That wasn't their thing either.

One day I got home from school and saw a package on the front porch. I opened it up and there were these clear plastic molds shaped like Tits, Dicks. Gingerbread men with their peckers hanging out, dicks on a stick, disembodied Vagina's etc... This was disturbing to me as a 11 year old to say the least.

My mother got home with a bag of different colors of melting chocolate from the Ben Frankin store. She then went into the kitchen began making her perverted candy.

She used 4 different colors for the vagina's (I don't know if she was working from memory) and looking back now they were very anatomically correct. For some strange reason all the peckers were dark chocolate....

I didn't want to bother dad with that detail, he just found the whole deal mildly amusing.

I innocently asked my mom, "who is going to put a giant chocolate dong into their mouth?" "the ladies at work" she calmly replied.

I looked at the nice ladies at my moms work a little differently after that conversation.

Frankly, I was embarrassed by the whole deal. I thought my mother had gone even father off the deep end. My mom who never bothered to teach me about the birds and the bees was in the kitchen making candy medallions depicting Santa sodomizing Frosty the Snowman.

Oh well... I just resigned myself to the fact that my mother was a silly pervert with capitalist tendencies.

One day my mother came into my room and told me that she had to go run errands and some ladies were coming over to buy candy. I was to show them the merchandise make sure they got what they wanted.

Oh lord! The thought of selling chocolate pussies and cocks to a bunch of fat horny old ladies was not my idea of a rip roaring good time.

I walked into the kitchen and everything was laid out (pun intended) in all of it's girthy chocolate glory. My mother was kind enough to make me a cheat sheet on what to call these sexual candies and the prices of each. Tally whacker? bosom? woo woo? WTF? I didn't know what the hell those words meant.

And what? She's trying to spare me from saying bad words while selling her prurient products?

The doorbell rang. I opened the door and a couple of women were there nervously fidgeting like they were at the front door of a crack house."uuhhh is your mom home?" I said, "No. are you here for the dirty candy?" The women looked at each other shrugged their shoulders and came in the door.

I handed them the cheat sheet, showed them the wares and told them to take what they wanted and leave the money on the counter. Honestly, they were more embarrassed than I was at that point.

After a while I became desensitized to Wilma Wanker and her chocolate factory.

I even took a dick on a stick to school and put it on my most hated teachers desk. (who always took great joy in demeaning and humiliating me) with a note that read: "It melts in your mouth not in your hand..."