Jason's Stuff - The World's Largest Gummy Worm
As this is only the third installment of Jason’s Stuff, it’s too early to review anything worth more than fifty bucks. Be that as it may, I do plan on calling in incrementally larger things as time goes by, until eventually I’m given a yacht and can sail away forever. Can you come with me? Only if your name is Jacqueline Bisset 1977.
Today’s stuff is long, thick, wobbly and delicious. No, Liberace, it isn’t Johnny Depp’s penis. It’s the World’s Largest Gummy Worm, compliments of my very special friends at vat19.com.
Weighing in at three pounds, stretching 26 inches, and boasting a staggering 4000 calories, the World’s Largest Gummy Worm is quite possibly the most disturbingly toothsome thing I have ever seen. When it arrived at the office I took it out of the box and was instantly mesmerised by its sheer magnitude. I stood motionless with it draped between my hands, as one-by-one my office mates rose from their desks to huddle round and stare in awe. We stayed like that for eight full minutes before Gary broke the spell with a deafening fart. “I think I followed through,” said Gary, and excused himself to the bathroom.
My initial, natural instinct was to eat the World’s Largest Gummy Worm. I like Gummy Worms and this one was 128 times larger than a regular one (really), so I wished to eat it 128 times more than usual. However, the longer I held the big mouthwatering bugger in my mitts, the harder it was to think of him as food. For a start, he is confectionery – candy – meaning that outside of sugar and sodium he contains barely enough nutritional value to qualify as food.
But what really made it difficult to chomp him down was the sad little personality I’d begun subconsciously projecting onto him. He seemed forlorn. He reminded me of Winnie the Pooh’s Eeyore, except on heroin. How could I possibly partake of such an unhappy creature? He was miserable! You only had to look at the pitifully weary way he drooped during our lengthy photo session at the office. He was dejected, depressed and borderline suicidal. I felt terrible for him. And that’s when I decided to name him Corey and take him to the bar.
Corey had a good time at the bar. We had a few drinks, shared some stories, told some jokes and generally got to know one another. It was great. There was of course the odd punter who tried to eat Corey, but they lost interest once I showed them the picture of him lazing on a urinal. My friend Alex (the guy from last week who looks like the dude from Gogol Bordello) showed up later on, and we had fun pretending Corey was my penis.
First we pretended Alex was giving me a gay blowjob with Corey playing my penis; then I pretended to go to the toilet with Corey, who pretended to be my penis. It was hilarious and, Corey being such a good sport, no feelings were hurt. He did draw the line at me pretending to poop him out into Alex’s mouth, though, which was understandable I guess; Alex wasn’t too fond of that idea either.
In the cab on the way home, Corey hung his head out the window like a dog and slurred obscenities at pedestrians. “Hey buddy! I’m looking for a fag with a shitty haircut, have you seen him? Fuck you!” He’d had a great night.
The next morning I felt like a giant had used me for a toe-rag. I threw up until my jaw locked and then I threw Corey in the trash because he was covered in pubes and smelled weird.
If I could turn back time I’d eat Corey, all of him, starting at the red end.
Last week, Jason wrote about Beer Outlaw's Hand Crafted and Personalized Beer Holsters – the difference between a hangover and hepatitis. Find that article here.