Mike Brown’s Self-Help Column

From Issue 149, May 2001

My mom caught me in the act and now she’s comatose: What should I do?

Dear Mike Brown,

My problem is of a perverse nature. And judging by your last two articles, you are no stranger to perversity. I am a 17 year old male who likes to make love to fruit. I don’t really like to think of it as masturbation—it’s a much more intimate process for me than just firing one off in a Little America bathroom stall.

First let me explain my love-making process and then I’ll burden you with my dilemma. I have tried to make love to almost every kind of fruit and vegetable. If you can eat it, I’ve probably fucked it (I stay away from meat products for I am a straightedge vegetarian). Cantaloupes and grapefruits are the best love makers, and are what I usually dip in to. Occasionally I’ll get a gigantic tomato or a not quite ripe watermelon. But those are generally too messy. I go to the grocery store and spend hours searching for the loneliest grapefruit or cantaloupe I can find. Just like people, the lonelier and more isolated the fruit is, the more accepting and needing it is of my love. I carefully place the grapefruit in my grocery bag, always on top of the other products so it doesn’t feel claustrophobic. Sometimes I take her out to dinner or a movie, just to break the ice a little bit. When we get back to my house it’s usually pretty late. That’s when I begin the foreplay. The foreplay consists of me sticking her (the grapefruit) in the microwave for about 45 seconds. I cut a small hole in her as well.  I then sneak into my room and stick her between my mattresses and bang her doggie style. Sometimes I let the grapefruit ride on top, but I prefer not to see her face.

So here’s my problem. About three days ago I was making love to this beautiful grapefruit. Man, you should have seen her, she was in season in the best way possible way. She was so hot that I was having trouble getting my soldier to stand attention, if you know what I mean. So I turned on my TV to ESPN and listened to women’s tennis to help me out. The screams usually get him going. But I needed more help. While my grapefruit girlfriend was between my mattresses I set some adult magazines on top of the bed. Sorry to paint such a vivid picture of my love making process, but it is important that you understand. Well, the screams from the Venus vs. Serena Williams match must have woken up my mother. She came down into my room to see what all the ruckus was about. I couldn’t hear her walking into my room, and man, she saw everything! Once she figured out what I was doing she was so surprised she passed out and hit her head on my dresser. I quickly changed the channel, got dressed and shoved my pornos back under my bed. I had to unfortunately cut my lovemaking session with the grapefruit short. I went and got my dad and just told him that she collapsed when she came into my room, (which was true). We then took her to the hospital to make sure nothing was wrong with her head.

She must have hit her head harder than I thought cuz she has been in a coma for about four days now. The doctors say that when she hit her head on my dresser, she sustained a severe concussion. Surely when she comes out of her coma she is going to explain to everyone what I was doing. So far, there are only two people that know what happened that night: me and the other is unconscious. Mike, how can I prepare or maybe even stop her from telling everyone really what really happened? If my secret love affairs are exposed to my family, it will surely take away from the erotic nature of the whole encounter. Please help.

The Grapefruit Romeo of East Salt Lake

Well, Romeo,
Thank you for the letter. I think we all learned something new. And although you will probably never rid yourself of the guilt that comes with your mom catching you doing the nasty with one of my favorite breakfast items, I do think you can find a way out of this situation and maintain your dignity. Go get yourself a real girlfriend, fast, before your mom gets out of the coma. Tell your family that you have been seeing her for a while. May I suggest the girl from the first letter? She seems down for anything and foreplay with her is probably just as simple as pushing buttons on a microwave. But having a girl by your side makes the idea of you humping fruit more preposterous than it already is. Thus you can convince your family that Mom is just crazy from hitting her head.

But if she comes out of her coma and still insists that what she saw was in fact real and not a dream, I think you should just tell the truth. Because behavior like this is often times learned. Make as much drama out of the ordeal as possible by telling her that the only reason you do it is because your dad told you to. This will rock the family boat so much that it should take some of the pressure off of you. And you seem old enough to handle the repercussions of divorce. You’ll be 18 in about another year and you can move out.

I think you should move into an apartment with two refrigerators. One for grapefruits and one for cantaloupes. You could then dress your grapefruits in little slutty outfits and have them waiting for you when you get home from work. You could also make sure that your cantaloupe bitch is paying her share of the rent, cuz that’s just fucked up to have the person you’re humping night after night not paying rent. Make sure you are close to the supermarket and enjoy your youthful and virile years. After all Romeo, you are rapidly reaching your sexual prime.

One last piece of advice: Grapefruits are on sale right now at Smith’s: three for a dollar.