Bill worked in a pickle factory. He had been employed there for a number of years when he came home one day to confess to his wife that he had a terrible compulsion. He had an urge to stick his John Thomas into the pickle slicer.
His wife suggested that he should see a sex therapist to talk about it, but Bill indicated that he'd be too embarrassed. He vowed to overcome the compulsion on his own.
One day a few weeks later, Bill came home absolutely ashen. His wife could see at once that something was seriously wrong.
"What's wrong, Bill?" she asked.
"Do you remember that I told you how I had this tremendous urge to put my Willie into the pickle slicer?"
"Oh, Bill, you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
"My God, Bill, what happened?"
"I got fired."
"No, Bill. I mean, what happened with the pickle slicer?"
"Oh...she got fired too."
His wife suggested that he should see a sex therapist to talk about it, but Bill indicated that he'd be too embarrassed. He vowed to overcome the compulsion on his own.
One day a few weeks later, Bill came home absolutely ashen. His wife could see at once that something was seriously wrong.
"What's wrong, Bill?" she asked.
"Do you remember that I told you how I had this tremendous urge to put my Willie into the pickle slicer?"
"Oh, Bill, you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
"My God, Bill, what happened?"
"I got fired."
"No, Bill. I mean, what happened with the pickle slicer?"
"Oh...she got fired too."
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