I wanted to tell them all that his hand was really digging up my rectum, that this sexual assault was not fake in any way, but it came out in gargles; Uncle Stan wasn’t done yanking the colorful string from my mouth. Sex “Maybe you can get it out since your hand’s been inside little peach before.” The magician extracted his hand from my butt, leaving it throbbing and gaped. “OK, keep thinking of your card. But he caught me just as I was leaving. He was the embodiment of cringe in his cape and top hat. Uncle Stan’s fingers tore through my hymen, stretched my birth canal, and wore my vulva as an armband while he fingered my cervix, feeling the edge of a piece of cardboard inside. We all know how much you like it in the bum, but are you technically a virgin?”
I was, but I had to think whether that was the right answer. And a fucking magician? If I don’t know, I can’t get in trouble.”
This inappropriate joke, made more pathetic because he was like thirty, got way too many laughs from the boomers in the room.
