Monthly Archives: March 2008

Dildosytters of Nantucket – Chapter 3

Man, it’s been a crazy couple weeks.  I got sooooo much to tell you.

Coming back from Nantucket on my last voyage the time machine developed some weird electrical issues.  In the middle of the voyage the lights started blinking like a bad string of Christmas lights.

Not sure what was the issue, however, I got back in one piece.  After getting back I ran the time machine through a battery of tests and everything seems OK.

So, I figured what the heck, fire up the damn thing and go see how G., G., G., G., Grandpa Johnson is doing filling the orders he got in when we were last there.

Off we go – THhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhppppttt

Whoa, that was a bizzaro ride.  I am standing out in the backyard, behind Johnson’s Dildosytters of Nantucket.  Same weird light thing occurred during this trip.  Hmmmm, wonder what the heck is wrong.  Everything seems okay.  I am in one piece and I am where and when I set the controls for.  Nantucket July 18, 1825 – the date is important because it’s the Friday after my last visit and I want to see how Grandpa Johnson made out with those customer orders.

So I walk around to the front of the building and walk in through the open door.

“Hey there fella, how can I help you today,” asks Grandpa Johnson.

I stood there stunned, unable to speak.  Shit, something is very wrong.  The beautiful thing about the time machine is that it typically renders me invisible so I can move about the time I traveled to undetected.  Obviously, since Grandpa Johnson can see me, something went terribly wrong with the time machine.

“Ah, ah, I am not sure.  Just thought I’d take a look around,” I replied with a shaky voice.

“You’re not from around here are you?”  Grandpa Johnson asked.

“Ah, ah no, I am from the western part of Massachusetts,” I said.

“Figured you weren’t from here. 

“Where’d ya get those crazy clothes?  What are ya some kind of poor pirate?

“Oh, shit,” I said to myself.  Here I was standing in 1825, in Nantucket with a grateful dead tshirt on and bright green Crocs on my feet.

“Ah, poor pirate, not sure what you mean grandpa, I mean Mr. Johnson.”

“Well lad, ya got a shirt with some kind of weird skull design and your shoes have holes in them,”  Grandpa Johnson explained.

“No Mr. Johnson, I am not a poor pirate, this is a shirt for a musical group I like and these shoes are brand new and designed to have holes in them, for, ah, ah, for the water to run outta.”

“If that’s what you say, you’re welcome to look around, what’s your name?”

“My name is Pat and thanks for letting me look around.”

“So what is it you’re looking for, Pat?” 

“Ah, not sure Mr. Johnson.  I was intrigued by your sign out front and decided to wonder in.”

“Lot of people don’t know what to make of that sign,” Mr. Johnson said laughing. 

“I carved it out of a whale rib bone that was given to me by an old sea captain friend of mine,” said Mr. Johnson beaming with pride.

“It does catch ones eye,” I said laughing along with grandpa.

Note:  The sign was a six foot long carved phallus with the words:  Johnson’s – “Dildosytters of Nantucket,” carved down the length.  It might be one of the largest pieces of dildo scrimshaw ever.  I wonder if anyone has ever inquired about purchasing the monolith.  I’ll have to remember to ask grandpa that one day.

“Glad you like it, have a look around and let me know if anything catches your eye” replied Mr. Johnson with a chuckle as he retreated to the back of his shop to continue his work.

Christ on a crutch, what the hell am I gonna do now.  I know one thing, I can’t let anyone else see me.

As I look around I am amazed by the collection of dildo’s grandpa had amassed.  There are ones made from everything imaginable.  Every size too.  Long and short, fat and thin, some with weird gizmo’s on them and others, well, I am not sure where you’d put it and frankly, I don’t want to know.  Wood, bone, stone, plaster, metal and shell….you name it and Grandpa Johnson has a dildo made of it.

I slowly crept out of the shop and made my way to the back yard where my time machine was standing in the corner.

The time machine sort of looks like an exercise treadmill with a television bolted onto the front of it with way too many wires sticking out.

I walked over to the time machine and was fiddling with some of the wires when I startled by the sound of Grandpa Johnson’s voice – “what the hell is that thing and what’s it doing in my backyard?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” I thought to myself.

“Mr. Johnson, I can explain it to you, however, we’re gonna need a couple hours and a bottle or two of rum cuz you ain’t gonna believe me.”

“Listen hear son, I got all the time in the world and I gotta nice bottle of Rum I received in trade for one of my dildo’s, yep , I think it was for the Whale Wand, so why don’t you start talking,” said Mr. Johnson.

To be continued…..


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