19 Jun

At the corner of Union Square in San Francsico, I dropped to my knees and sniffed the sidewalk. After I had filtered out the piss stains from the homeless legions that call the city their home, I detected the whiff of expensive perfume, the cologne of the God Beckham. Across the street, in the square, thousands of acolytes were waiting in the temple for the unveiling of the God’s image, a massive building sized poster that stretched across the facade of Macys Department store. But for now, it was covered in blackness.

With my stolen backstage passes in hand, I attempted to enter the inner sanctum. Security was as tight as Beckham’s voice. Immediately I was spotted as an intruder – “Where did you get that?” said the guards. “It’s a real pass,” I said. “I have to get into see David.” No deal. The security personnel resplendent in their secret service look escorted me away, and pointed me out, watch him.

Then, the great Beckham appeared on stage. High voices screeched, the deity’s’s followers surged forwards, and the black drop fell from the poster, revealing the God Beckham in his underwear, his cock and balls curved in a parabola of tender weight, bright and shiny, virile, and as we all stood awestruck at his package, we were fertilized by our God, infected with superstar mania. Some ladies used fans to cool down.

Beneath the Corinthian pillar in the center of Union Square, this Greco-Roman triumph at the Gates of Underwear needed a challenge. I dropped my pants to the crowd, and showed my seedy, two dollar boxers from Ross Dress for Less. No one was amused. The Gods would punish me for my insolence.

I waited at the backstage for the God’s departure. With hundreds jostling, I screamed, “David. I have a book for you. Kick the Balls. Your name is on the cover. I signed it for you” For a split second he turned, and in that magical moment when I felt the God was looking at me, and me alone, I believed he was about to reach out and take the copy I had especially signed for him.

But no.

Zeus sent him on his way, punishment for me, who had dared to insult the wisdom of expensive underwear in the temple.


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