On the Importance of a Concealed Penis

You know what? I’ve had enough of this.” I grabbed that shit Jason by his collar, and slammed him against the hard metal tower of the rig feeling a little bit like a cop off “Law and Order.” Jason was all of five and a half feet tall, and if he weighed over a hundred and thirty pounds sopping wet, then I was the King of England. I didnt’ have any doubts as to how a confrontation between us would end.

“You fuck me up one more time, and I’m going to beat the living shit out of you.” I pointed my finger in his face for emphasis. I wanted to violate his space so he knew that I could take him apart at any time. The crew waited, knowing that this confrontation had been a long time coming.

I’m not a violent man. It takes a lot to push me to the edge. Jason and I had started having “problems” on his first day, right after he had almost dropped a three thousand pound piece of pipe on the toes of my right foot. It hadn’t been the accident itself. Accidents happen. The problems started when I filled out the incident report. Jason, it turned out, had a big problem with people who could spell. A big fucking problem. And especially with people who read for pleasure. Me being white hadn’t helped much either.

It had started off harmless enough. He started to call me Shrek. I took the name on as a joke. With my shaved head, and monochromatic cover-alls I did look a lot like Shrek. Then the constant taunting, getting angrier and more personal with every passing day. I always replied with a smile and a cheery “God bless you!” That only made him angrier. Then he had started spending more energy finding ways to piss me off than working. Finally he had started seeking out ways to make my job more difficult. Like putting my tongs off kilter. On an oil rig, you throw four hundred pound metal tongs to make connections. If you have uneven tongs, your shoulder will feel it at the end of the day. On that particular day, I had finally figured out why my shoulder had become so sore in the past couple of hours, and why my tongs wouldn’t latch.

I grabbed him now with both my fists and put my face close to his. “If I catch you doing that shit one more time, I’m going to drag you down to the mud pit, and then only one of us is going to come back. You hear me?” I had him now. I could tell he was afraid. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show up for work in the morning. I knew the cowardly piece of shit would tuck tail the first time I pushed back. Part of me wanted him to stand up for himself. Part of me wanted him to shove me so I could beat the living shit out of him. I had stopped being myself on the oil rig. I had gone feral, like a cat left too long in the wilderness. All I needed was an excuse, and he knew it.

Jason opened his mouth to say something. Maybe to apologize. God knew the shit owed me an apology. He’d been doing his best to piss me off for the past two months. Then something happened. Jason looked down. Then he looked back up. Then he started laughing. My face twitched in fury. Laugh? At me. I pushed him back, fearing that if I held him another second I would kill him.

I made a sound of anger. It was wild and inarticulate. The audacity of it! I was ready to fly at him and pummel him to a… I felt it. A breeze. A breeze in that still desert air, right on that stretch of oh so sensitive skin. The directional driller looked out on the deck from the doghouse, sipping at his coffee. Everyone wore underwear under their cover-alls. It was too hot to do anything else.

“Hey Shrek!” The directional driller called. “Your cock is hanging out.” The crew broke into wild, hooting, knee slapping, laughter. I stood, mouth agape, dumbfounded. I had been so close… so close to ending my feud with Jason. I looked down the front of me. The cheap zipper on the cover-alls had broken in that mysterious way zipper’s do, where only the part directly in front of my pelvis had come undone. Then it had only been a matter of some shifting before the button on my boxer’s worked itself loose and my penis found its way to light.

“I….” I said.

“I….” I said again.

“I…..” I turned away from the crew, and tucked my penis back into my boxers as the crew continued to laugh. I blushed, deeply.

I tried to fend off the laughter off by clearing my throat a few times. But it was no use. My cock had fallen out in a public place, and by an ancient man law as old as the species the event could not be taken back or forgotten. It was ten minutes before we could work again… and all I could do was stand there and eat it while the crew laughed. Such is the law of the exposed penis. That fucking Jason. What I wouldn’t have given to wipe that satisfied laughter right off his face. But I could not, for that is also against the law of the exposed penis.