Where has all the spermicide gone?

A friend goes to the drugstore. (I'm settin' this up like a bad joke)

He's gone in search of spermicide.  He checks out the sexy-time aisle.  He finds her pleasure. His pleasure. Lambskin.  A shit load of money suckin' fun.  Whoever said sex was free had obviously never set foot in a drugstore.

He scans the aisle.  Nothing.  Double-checks.  Still nada.  Finds a clerk.  They try again.  Call the pharmacist.  Take three.  Where is the manager?
Four grown men find themselves on all fours crawling past everything other than the gelly they seek, the loudspeaker blaring more assistance to aisle 12.  

So with this I ask, how many grown men does it take to find spermicide?  Or rather, where has all the spermicide gone?  It sure hasn't gone to the flowers, that is for sure.

Have all the fancy inventions in the form of pills, patches, and rings made the need for spermicide obsolete? Or is just this another case of the impending threat of manhood found in the sexy-time aisle?


Anonymous said...

That's a great mental image.

Sue said...

LOL...love this post! The sad thing is, while I haven't checked for spermicide, this is probably only too true

The Bird's Eye said...

the sexy-time aisle? how do you think of these things? that's just tooo hilarious!

Sarah said...

hahaha. you are a funny girl. enjoyed your post