Thanks to Mr. Schwinkle for spotting this one…….
The Manatee County Sheriff’s undercover deputy convinced Christina Hope Vavra, of Sarasota, to get into his car where she then allegedly asked the deputy to expose himself, reports the Bradenton Herald.
“I asked her if I could put a condom on first. I then exposed a flaccid rubber replica of a penis and placed a condom on it,” the deputy wrote in his report.
Vavra, 31, was alleged to have performed oral sex — that is until the deputy saw a possum crossing the road and slammed on the brakes causing Vavra to slide out of her seat. — Sun-Sentinel
Okay, that’s two questions.
I find the MO of this undercover operation somewhat baffling. The officer drives around in search of street hookers and invites them inside his car, where they proposition him. Standard procedure so far. He prepares for these encounters by whipping out a softy. Is this intended to inspire the professional’s competitive juices? She might take one look and tell him he doesn’t need a hooker, he needs a splint. Or a Viagra tablet — come back in an hour.
So he’s not waving around his own flesh and blood, and it’s not even erect. What’s the point of the condom? Is he worried about keeping it clean? Or maybe it’s so when she stuffs it into her pie hole, she attributes the plastic flavor to the condom, not the dildo. Some of these hookers have sensitive palates. I guess.
So. He drives the car, she honks his horn. Clearly this officer has never read The World According to Garp (“three quarters is not enough,” wrote Garp, and if you don’t get that reference, too bad, you lose). Then again, it’s not really his own personal equipment at risk here, but still. Shouldn’t he find a romantic isolated area like under a bridge or behind a building for this? If texting while driving is dangerous, what would you call this?
Personal note: been there, done this for real, and it’s enormously distracting which just adds to the thrill, like driving drunk or stoned. It’s exactly the sort of bone-headed stunts kids pull all the time, and shouldn’t. I was a kid. While I miss those days, I’m glad I survived without incisor scars, let alone decapitations.
Oh, right. Then the possum screws up everything. She ends up on the floor boards with Mr. Wiggly in her mouth, which probably just ruined her evening, and muffs up the sting. If you were going to set this final act to music, what song would you suggest? For some reason, I like “Visions of Match Stick Men.”
Anyway, it’s just another story of ordinary life in the nation’s dicktip.