The joy of meeting a new, inflatable friend
I could have bought the most expensive, inflatable sex-doll the store had to offer; after all, it was not my money. But, being frugal, I took it upon myself to seek out and buy a cheaper model.Perhaps I should back up a little.Last week I was commissioned to have a promotional photo taken for an East Coast periodical. The magazine is ski related and based in New England, and I’ve been writing for them for several years. The photo editor thought it would be funny to have a picture of me sitting at my computer, the mountains as a backdrop and scattered around me would be skis, boots and various outdoor recreation gear.When I told him I could have a local photographer come to my home, take the picture and have the results e-mailed to him, he was delighted. Almost as an afterthought he said, “Just for grins, in a few of the shots place an inflatable sex-doll way in the background, maybe propped up in the corner. Don’t make it obvious, and make sure you take lots of shots with it not included.”When I explained that I didn’t own an inflatable doll he seemed skeptical, but told me to buy one and invoice him the cost for reimbursement.
One would think that it might be necessary to travel to one of those Front Range, inflatable doll chain stores to purchase such a product – not so. Not only was I able to find a great selection up here in the mountains, but the stores guaranteed to meet or beat Denver prices.The sales girl, after listening to my explanation that I needed the doll, not for personal use but for a photo shoot (and not believing a word of it), showed me several products with various functioning features.When I picked one of the least expensive models the clerk cautioned me that the doll in question came with very thin skin that would not hold up to rough use. She said, “Now listen, I don’t work on commission so I have nothing to gain by telling you this, but we’ve had a bunch of these brought back because they leaked. You might want to spend a little more cash and get a more durable doll.” She then added, “And on this product we have a no return policy.” (Which seems reasonable.)I will say one thing for the sales lady, she knew her inventory. The doll barely held air through the two-hour photography session.As per the magazine editor’s suggestion, we had it propped up in the corner. Before long, as air leaked, the doll developed poor posture and she began to slump.
After a couple of hours, her legs buckled and she hit the ground.I bought the cheapest doll because I assumed I’d throw it away once the shoot was completed. She leaked and there was no room in my life for another woman. My wife had other ideas. “Let’s put her in our garden like a scarecrow,” she said. I didn’t want to bring up the letters we’ve been receiving from our home-owners’ association regarding the toilet bowl-planter we already have placed in our yard. Rather I mentioned the doll’s leakage issues. My mate looked at me and said with conviction, “We can patch her.”Patching a life-size, anatomically-correct, inflatable doll is not as easy as patching – let’s say a bicycle tube. With a bike tube you can easily immerse the rubber in a small pail of water, and look for bubbles to find the leak. With a full-figured, blow-up girlfriend there is much greater buoyancy which necessitates using a bathtub.
If anyone had entered our bathroom while Ellen and I were trying to force a blow-up dummy under the water they might have thought we were committing mannequin murder. It was a 2-against-1 wrestling match in the tub, with my mate and me trying to submerge the wet dummy into submission.It turned out the leak was a small split on the back of the doll’s lap. We used a bicycle tire patch and duct tape to perform minor surgery.I should have listened to the sales girl. After fixing the first rupture several more followed. Before long our inflatable roommate looked like a dalmatian of duct-tape. For a couple days the patched doll found a home in our front yard next to our toilet bowl-planter. That was until a strong wind blew it onto our neighbor’s steps; she was discovered by the husband in the early morning, almost causing him to have a heart attack. With a heavy heart I finally gave my plastic friend a decent burial in our trash receptacle. I can only hope there is an inflatable doll-heaven – or better yet, our trash collector is single.Jeffrey Bergeron, under the alias of “Biff America” can be seen on RSN television, heard on KOA radio and read in several mountain publications. He can be reached at email@example.com.
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