The Dildo, Part Three

On the night before graduation, there was a large bonfire where seniors burned all the possessions they do not plan to carry into adult life. School notebooks, chairs, tables and lockets from ex-boyfriends all went up in ten foot flames, former owners slugging champagne from the bottle and dreading the ceremony they'd have to sit through after passing out for a few hours.

Don't worry. We didn't burn the dildo.

With all this attention focused on the engulfed soccer field, we snuck unnoticed onto the academic quad, the dildo and a roll of duct tape in hand. An austere statue of Ben Franklin stood erect in front of the Physics building, sternly unaware of the new appendage we'd planned for him. We taped the dildo into place, head peeking just beyond his coattails in profile view, and took a picture for posterity. We headed back to the fire, confident that someone would surely discover what we had done before the entire class' parents and grandparents walked past on their way to the graduation hill.

The next morning, after the ceremony, we headed off to celebrate all over campus. I stopped by Emily's apartment to say hello to her family. She pulled me aside.
"Do you know how many people took their picture in front of Ben Franklin today?"
"Security didn't notice?"
"I guess not. The first thing my grandparents asked me about after graduation was who had played the dildo prank on Benjamin Franklin. You're famous!"

When I walked by later, I saw the dildo lying in the tulips next to Ben. I was tempted to pick it up, but I realized that my time was done. Our grey friend had fulfilled its destiny with us, and it was time to pass the torch. I left it there, confident that the next generation would know wht to do when they saw a lonely grey dildo longing for a home.