Okay. Gather 'round, friends. Or hit "mute" if you're a right-thinking person. I am about to set fire to everything I've worked so hard to achieve. It's Friday afternoon. It's time for another Twitter story.

Behold: "The Tell-tale Dildo."

In my mid-teens, I had three very close friends, those friends you have only when you're a kid: brothers Luke and Jacob, and Goober, the youngest of us at 14. (Names have been changed because—well, you'll see.) We spent every waking minute together.

Luke and Jacob's parents, and Goober's parents, had all split up. They lived in four different houses in our village, like the points of a compass. So we could always find a place to be unsupervised. We got up to all sorts of ridiculous shit.

One day we were at Goober's mom's house. She was a harmless, wounded hippie, and—this is important—not home. We were hungry and decided we wanted some garlic bread from Donna's Pizza and Subs. I believe it cost $3. We did not have $3.

We began searching the house for change. I mean, we RANSACKED that house, like the urchins we were. The couch cushions, kitchen cupboards, the basement. Still short. Finally, there was only one place left to look: Goober's mom's room.

The four of us began going through her shit. Today, I am ashamed: What a violation! But at the time, I really wanted some hot, delicious garlic bread. We were all searching different nooks and crannies—I was under her bed—when I heard Goober whisper: "Fuck."

We all stopped to look at him. He was on his knees, beside an open dresser drawer, elbow-deep under some sweaters. His face was twisted into agony. I thought he'd put his fingers into a mousetrap. He slowly pulled out his hand.

In it: the world's biggest dildo.

That monster... It wasn't the size of a baby's arm. It was the size of Lou Ferrigno's arm. If that dildo were an aquatic mammal, it would have been a blue whale. A tree? A towering, ancient redwood. A car? A 1985 Chrysler Fifth Avenue.

Secretariat would have looked over his fence and been like, "Hey, Lil' Sebastian, check out the schlong on THAT guy."

I know it's a trick of my memories—I know this can't be true—but in my mind's eye, that dildo made a sound as it wobbled in Goober's trembling hand. The sound that lightsabers make. WAHN WAHN. WAHN WAHN.

This is a video of the most similar dildo I've seen in the wild. And I'm pretty sure ours—well, hers; we had no claims to ownership—was bigger. (Um... NSFW?)

I immediately flashed to Goober's mom. How? She was so small and sweet. I just couldn't... I mean, the sheer physics involved. That weapon definitely would have made serious contact with her dinner. She would have felt that in her lungs.

Weirdest of all: It had those stopper balls at the base of it. IN CASE YOU MIGHT LOSE IT. For 15-year-old me, that dildo was world changing. I tried to speak, to find words of comfort, for Goober and for me, but I could find none.

In my head, my internal monologue sounded the way I imagine Owen Meany's voice sounds to John Irving: IS IT SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE THAT? BECAUSE MINE DOESN'T LOOK LIKE THAT. Maybe she kept it for home defence?

But I couldn't make a noise. And worse, somehow: Goober couldn't let go of it. It was like he'd touched an electric fence. He just shook, and that giant dildo shook with him. WAHN WAHN. WAHN WAHN.

Everything else in that cursed room went still. None of us moved. Only the dildo did, like some obscene metronome. We stared at it like it was the briefcase in Pulp Fiction. Like we'd opened the Ark of the Covenant, except inside was a massive dork.

Jacob was the first to find his voice, finally saying what we were all thinking: "THAT'S BEEN INSIDE YOUR MOM!" he screamed. He SCREAMED it. Poor Goober burst into tears: still kneeling on the floor, still holding his mom's humungous dildo, crying his eyes out.

I don't remember if we ever did get garlic bread that day. But I will never forget that dildo. And now that I have teenaged sons of my own, I remember, too: They are absolutely going through my shit.

Yours are, too.

That's another week down, friends. We did it. Stay home, stay safe. I don't know why I'm like this. I had a good childhood. My parents are blameless. It's all my fault. Just know that I'm sorry for everything I've ever said or done. I love you all.