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What the hell? I jab the stop button.
Nothing happens. The squirrel continues on its merry way.
I frantically press the out button.
The squirrel stops.
Whew.
Wait a second. The squirrel is whirling around again, as if rooting for something inside me. Not finding whatever it is, it burrows even deeper.
What the fuck? Does “P” stand for pancreas? I think that’s an organ in the digestive system, but there’s no way that’s a fun spot.
I scan the screen in panic.
There’s a help button here, plus a few more that don’t look promising.
I punch all the non-help buttons at once.
The squirrel keeps going deeper.
I’m beginning to freak out. What if “P” stands for the pituitary gland in the brain?
The squirrel stops. An error pops up on the screen, stating, “Prostate not found.”
Prostate? Oh, no. Women don’t have one—at least not in the butt area. There’s something called Skene’s glands on the front side of the vagina that are sometimes referred to as “the female prostate,” but that’s clearly not what the squirrel was looking for.
Through my panic, I begin to parse out what happened. The squirrel must be from the batch meant for the male sex. When the Impaler wrote the app, he forgot to account for a situation where someone who wants P-spot stimulation lacks a prostate to stimulate.
It’s not a surprising bug, but it is a major pain in my ass—and that expression has never been this literal.
I swipe angrily at the error message until it disappears from the screen. Then I pound the out button.
The error comes back, and nothing else happens.
Out of options, I click the help button again.
A sound resembling a dial tone emanates from the phone.
That’s not good. I bet that’s meant to dial customer service when Belka toys get into the hands of real customers. This early, I doubt anyone’s going to answer that call. Not that I’d know what to tell them if they did.
Frantic, I drop the work phone on the bed and grab Precious to dial Ava.
“I’m a little busy,” she says in lieu of a hello.
“This is a medical emergency! Code red. I’m not joking, this is—”
“Whoa, slow down, slow down. What happened?”
“I have a squirrel stuck in my rectum. Or maybe my colon. Somewhere up there.”
A moment of silence, then: “Is this a joke?”
“I wish! I was testing the toys and—”
Ava sounds like she’s got something stuck in her throat. “So the squirrel is a toy?”
“No, I mean a real fucking animal.”
