Glossy News recently acquired this first hand account of the life of vibrating.
Glossy News: Good evening, Mr. Vibrator. Thank you for agreeing to this interview.
Mr. Vibrator: Please, don't be so formal. I've seen you naked. Call me Fred.
GN: Okay Fred. Well, how should we start? Where were you born?
Fred: I was manufactured in China by a rubber corporation with a thousand other vibrators. We must've looked quite funny, an assembly line of little soldiers wearing helmets, ready to fight the war against horniness. From there we were shipped to America and lucky for us. They cut off heads of vibrators in the Middle East, ya know. And no one ever wants to go to Canada because it's hard to stay hot in such cold weather, you see. Once in America we were divided up and shipped different places. Most of us went to porn shops, some to truck stops and the unlucky ones went to Catholic parishes.
GN: Do you like your job?
Fred: Love it. Who wouldn't? Sure, some days are harder than others. We vibrators can have headaches too, you know. But for the most part I wouldn't trade my job for any other.
GN: What's the most difficult part of the job?
Fred: Shopping for shoes, I'd say.
GN: Some have called your kind womanizers because you travel from woman to woman with no real committment. How do you respond to those accusations?
Fred: Do womanizers generally make women happy? Because we always makes women happy. And keeping women happy is no small feat, lemme tell you. Sometimes, it's a nasty ass job but somebody has to do it.
GN: Anything you don't like about being a vibrator?
Fred: We've all heard the horror stories, about how unsuspecting vibrators are lured into bed some nights never to be heard of felt from again. And the baby stories ... please, don't leave us laying around if your baby is teething. That happened to my Uncle Morty. One day Janis just left him lying on the coffee table. Next thing you know the baby was using him as a pacifier, sucking him off like he was a lactating breast or something. Mort was so mortified he committed suicide in the toilet.
GN: Anything else you fear in being what you are?
"I tought I taw a putty-tat!" Mrowwwwr!
Fred: Being an agnostic, I've always feared the church handling me. I had a cousin that happened to. One minute he was minding his own business hanging next to a tube of KY Jelly at a porn shop. The next he was taking turns walking through the valley of the shadow death with two very curious and liberating nuns. It wasn't all bad, though. He got Sundays off.
GN: Any final words to our readers?
Fred: Don't neglect us. If you leave us on your closet shelf to gather dust, don't complain about your pussy itching when you finally require our services. Here's another thing most don't realize. If your batteries go dead, we're not completely on strike (But beware: scabs can give you crabs). Just talk dirty to us. Hell, we love that.
GN: Thank you for your time, Fred, you nasty cum guzzler.
Fred: You're welcome. Now turn that tape recorder off and turn me on...I wanna be USED!
