I slept in today. I didn't shower. I didn't shave. Then again, I don't have any facial hair. The only hair I have is the occasional stray from Miss Latifah's vagina.

Maybe I should start from the beginning.

Hi, I'm Queen Latifah's dildo. Or should I say, hi, I'm Queen Latifah's dildo, but I'm open to other projects.

King Latifah, as she calls me. God that's getting old. Every fuckin' time. 

Oh sick I have a hair in my mouth. Pffff. Pffffffihtkjliyfff. Ptttttttttttttt. Puey. Pihh. Pihh. Pihh.

You have no idea how degrading it is. So dehumanizing. To be shoved into the dark recesses of Queen Latifah, literally drowning in her putrid vagina juices, yanked out for sweet oxygen only to get shoved back in. That cycle is repeated over and over for what feels like years, but is actually 37 minutes. I try to block it out, close my eyes and go to sleep, but there's no sleep when you're being waterboarded in Queen Latifah's pussy. There's just no sleep.

Sometimes I think if only. If only I would've been born some other inanimate object. Courtney Love's anal beads. Shaquille O'Neal's toilet. But no. Queen Latifah's motherfuckin' dildo. I shower and I shower, but her juices never come off.

One time she put me in her…well, I don't like to talk about that. Saving that one for years of therapy. 

I was talking to Rosie O'Donnell's blender and even he has a way better life than me. He was talking about how he was getting sick of pool parties. Getting sick of pool parties, do you fuckin' believe that?!?

Sometimes I dream Queen Latifah is acting in a movie with Reese Witherspoon. Queen Latifah and Reese Witherspoon, due to a trailer worker strike, are forced to share a trailer. They have 12-hour days, emotionally draining both of them. Often, Reese is so nervewracked, she has trouble falling asleep at night. Queen, thinking Reese is asleep, pulls me out and uses me as per her sick nightly ritual. Reese's sleep problems are only exascerbated, as she knows when she's trying to fall asleep at night, that if she doesn't fall asleep, she will be forced to sit through yet another one of Queen's nightly sin sessions. This makes her more nervous, and she tries to fall asleep harder, but obviously these thoughts only make it harder for her to sleep. Reese, disgusted, angered, embarrassed, and jealous, cannot do anything but just lie there in bed, frozen in fear with vomit sitting at the top of her throat begging to come out, having to listen to Queen Latifah blow her load.

Then, one beautiful morning, Reese steps out of the shower and heads on set. She can see instantly that something is going on. Everyone is talking, louder and more energetic than usual. "What is it?" Reese asks. "What is it, everyone? Tell me!" "Good news!" a boom mic assistant who means nothing to her informs her. "The trailer worker strike is over! You can go over to that table and they'll tell you where your new trailer is."

"Okay, I'll do that," Reese responds. "But first, there's someone I can't leave behind."

"Who is it?" everyone whispers to each other as Reese walks determinedly. "Jake Gyllenhall? Ryan Phillippe?"

Suddenly, the door to my trailer opens. Reese searches frantically. Finally, she finds me, at the bottom of Queen's bag, next to the pistachio shells and used Kleenexes. I feel Reese Witherspoon's soft, wonderful fingertips as I am lifted away to freedom. Finally my day has come! I am taken away! Yes! Oh my sweet Lord in Heaven yes!

Reese goes up to the table where they are giving people trailers. "Can I help you?" the worker asks. "Yes," Reese responds. "I need a trailer for me…and my boyfriend." The worker looks at me, then at Reese, then down.

Reese goes straight to her new trailer. She pulls down her pants and slowly takes off her underwear. Then the greatest possible moment of anyone's life ever comes as she brings me closer and closer, and finally, into her vagina. I am instantly cleansed and refreshed. I am a completely changed dildo. Heaven is Hell compared to this. I am in a state of complete nirvana.

Hey, a dildo can dream, can't it?

I've won lots of awards. I've been sent lots of flowers. But none of it cheers me up a bit. I don't want pity. I just don't want to be Queen Latifah's dildo anymore.

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