When I was 25 I owned my own home but lost it in a fire. It literally burnt down to the ground. It happened in the evening and quite a crowd formed in the street to watch. Clearly it was the most exciting thing happening that night in Ferndale.
My neighbour asked me if I had called the fire brigade. I said that I hadn’t, but that I had sent my brother up the road to the shops for a bag of marshmallows and some sticks.
I stood on the pavement watching my home and all my belongings burn to a crisp. Someone offered me a chip. I wasn’t in the mood for chips. Somebody else from the throng approached me and said “Want a can luv?”. I declined. I didn’t think it would look good to be swigging a can of lager when the firemen arrived. Also I don’t like lager.
The firemen arrived and set to work as they do, pumping gallons of water into my house to put out the flames. The Chief Fireman said “please tell me you have insurance” so I said “I have insurance”. I didn’t have insurance.
Then the windows blew out.
Once the fire was under control the firemen, who were upstairs, started throwing stuff out of the window and onto the road below to prevent the smouldering remains from restarting the fire.
As I stood on the road, knowing that all I had left in the world was the clothes I was standing in and with my personal belongings being thrown onto the pavement in front of the gathered crowd , all I could think was “please don’t throw my dildo into the street”. They didn’t.
I couldn’t face the house for a fortnight afterwards. I was still in shock. I needed to digest what had happened and come to terms with the loss, the loss of everything. But I had to go back eventually to clear up the mess. I hired a skip and I had to shovel all the rubble and the rubbish into bags and start cleaning up the mess. My friend Matthew came with me and we spent hours sorting and cleaning and shovelling.
I was devastated. I felt empty and numb. I was clearing up the remnants of my life, my black, ruined fire ravaged life. As we sorted through the rubble which was formerly the roof Matthew found something and held it up. It was long, thick and pink. With a flick of the switch the object vibrated to life. Matthew held up the object, just like Adam when he holds aloft his magic sword and transforms into He-Man, proclaiming “IT’S ALIVE”. My dildo had survived the fire.
We laughed until we cried. And as it does life went on.