Back to the Future, with Generic Viagra

Hard to believe that there was a time with no Generic Viagra, isn't it? Last night I actually went to my twenty-year high school reunion, which had an 80s retro theme. Boy, do I miss the 80s. You know, the days when I had big hair, and big erections whenever I wanted them-heck, even when I didn't want them! Not only was I "Hot for Teacher," I had several girls back then as well, and gently taught them which end was up. Fast-forward twenty years, and my Dexy's Midnight Runner had ran out, and I knew that soon it'd be time to take drastic measures, and feed the little guy some Generic Viagra. Luckily, I'm still not married; I've always been a bit of a swinger, even since my coming-of-age back in the Decade of Greed, when my blood-engorged Billy Idol was banging every Psychedelic Fur in the neighborhood. Here's how things would go down, back in the day, before I dreamed of needing Generic Viagra. When I got a girl in the back of my car, first I'd finger her Soft Cell, then I'd Robert Palmer, then and then I'd Wham! her for an hour or so, then I'd pull out my Def Leppard and pour some sugar on her Blondie. I'm not completely sure what all that just meant, but you get the picture!

Now I was all grown up, with a mortgage and an erectile dysfunction problem, and no Generic Viagra to help me, even though it was only a matter of going on line and ordering the stuff. I'd been in denial about it for several months, but with one embarrassing sexual debacle after another, I was clearly in Dire Straits. My little Kenny Loggins hadn't been his long, hard self for longer than I cared to remember. As the high school reunion was approaching, though, I decided to do myself a favor and get some Generic Viagra-because I fully expected to encounter some of my old high school flames at the big event, and reacquaint them with my Talking Head. I was especially hoping to meet Debbie G., a former classmate of mine who's Raspberry Beret I'd taken off back senior year, during the prom (even though she was someone else's date). If all it took to return my old sexual prowess was ordering Generic Viagra, I was prepared to do that. I went online and had the good delivered in a couple of days, and popped some of the stuff just as I parked the car in front of the old high school gym.

Wasn't long, with the Devo blaring, until I found Debbie G. in the crowd. She had big hair and lots of fluorescent pink clothing. I had a Generic Viagra erection to beat the band-yes, the years had been kind to her, from where I stood. But I was more interested in how she was doing below the equator. "How've the years treated your Blondie?" I asked. She licked her cherry-red, glossy lips suggestively, and said, "That's Deborah Harry to you now, mister. All grown up. How's your Don Johnson?"

I plunged my Alan Parsons Project into her Kate Bush, and Bangled her for an hour or three, and Generic Viagra didn't let me down. My Bruce Hornsby was hard enough to last through two encores, and diddled on her organ with impeccable songmanship. My Prince pushed her Little Red Corvette into overdrive, then finally poured some Roxy Music all over her body. "You twisted my sister!" she sighed. I didn't volunteer that I'd had some help from Generic Viagra. Why should I? All it had done for me was restore my natural ability-the same rock-hard erections I'd had as an adolescent. Granted, they didn't last 24 hours anymore. But hey, I'd outgrown that!