Jucco strikes again, and again, and again
Three months ago, I was making some sawhorses for my cousin in my backyard when I heard my little Italian American son, Jucco, beating his meat. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I for one had not discovered masturbation until I was 26. Young Jucco is just 13. Never had I been prouder as a father than to hear my son jerk it. It was such a powerful moment that was only further made special by the fact I was listening to Steve Miller Band’s Greatest Hits album. Nothing could ruin my day, not even the fact that all my sawhorses were looking more like sawdonkeys. Little did I know, this blessing would in fact become a horrible curse.
Jucco is an eccentric young child. If you remember, he has exhibited streaks of violence towards me and my Steve Miller records, but overall, he is a good boy. He doesn’t succeed in school but doesn’t fail either. He has a variety of interests and dreams. All of that changed once he learned how to rub one out. It did not stop at just one go-around. Jucco’s tug career had only just begun.
My child is so goddamn horny it makes no sense. How can a 13-year-old have this much horniness? When I was his age I was concerned with where Steve Miller was and whether it was weird for a boy to want to kill his own father so that Steve Miller could adopt him. Jucco has one concern and one concern only, jacking his little dick all the time. He is constantly jerking off. I don’t even know to what because I don’t believe in computers, and I know he has no imagination since the only thing he ever brings home from art class is a piece of paper with the alphabet written on it.
When I found my copy of the July 4, 1995 National Review crumpled up in a ball and stuck to the floor, I knew I needed to put my foot down. I am calling his mother Isabella Racconogi di Calvacanti right now to see if she will come and help me put a stop to our son’s masturbation fixation. We haven’t spoken since his birth but maybe, just maybe, she will be able to help.