Most of us live relatively normal lives. We work, we play, we raise younglings, (who we must sometimes chop down with lightsabers to prove ourselves to Lord Sidious and the Dark Side). All and all, a pretty typical, monotonous existence. That’s probably why people do stuff like sky-dive or eat Tide Pods or experiment with veganism. It’s understandable.
But for some people, that’s not enough. They go where we dare not tread. They like to skulk in the shadows, the shady underbelly of society, (no, not Arby’s.) Living the deviant lives of which we can only dream. You know, like being a pizza delivery guy in a porno movie.
I speak of…The Dungeon.
A few years ago, when I wasn’t busy filming Vines and doing the Ice Bucket Challenge or whatever, I was a manager at a warehouse that assembled beauty and make up kits for ladies and bros who like to look pretty with voluminous hair*. My duties and responsibilities at the warehouse were varied and important and only slightly involved ogling women in an unprofessional fashion. But that’s a subject for another day, (and for my lawyer to deal with.)
The warehouse where I worked was part of a large complex of buildings and businesses. There was a landscaping company, a guy who would make you tee shirts and towels (or something like that, it was all pretty janky) a delicious-smelling bakery and…The Dungeon.
How do I describe this place without coming off like the naïve puritan that I so obviously am?
As far as I can tell, the Dungeon is a place where people film music videos, record songs, enjoy alcoholic beverages and engage in sexual dalliance with each other…possibly while filming videos and listening to music**. It’s kind of confusing what that place was about. Even the business’ own set of rules is vague on the concept.
I only encountered the Dungeon after it was abandoned. My boss needed more warehouse space, and since that section of the complex was recently vacated (I think it had something to do with an FBI sting, or maybe INTERPOL) he was able to get it for cheap. And when we went to explore it, it really looked like the Dungeon had been abandoned in the middle of the night, because there was an odd assortment of items scattered about. Like a sex swing, (don’t Google that one kiddies, Big Brother is watching!). I’ve never used a sex swing before, so I’m not entirely sure how they work or how people get introduced to them. Who commits financially to buying a sex swing unless they know they’ll get plenty of use out of it? And if you were dating somebody who already owned one, wouldn’t that set off some alarms in your head?
I also found this:
Yes. Latex polish. A real product being hawked by the freakiest superhero mascot with a porn-‘stache since Buttplug Man. What is latex polish? I assume it’s something one uses to polish their gimp suit. I didn’t know that was an issue people had, but then again, I don’t own any items of clothing made out of latex, I dropped the ball on that one, sorry. My favorite part of "Black Beauty" latex polish is the name of the distributing company. I think it’s quite apt.
The owners and patrons of the Dungeon weren’t just sexual heretics (great band name). They were also accomplished artists as exemplified by the bathrooms. There were surprisingly few used condoms in the trash. Although I do believe the roaches probably had herpes.
My only regret is that in the years I spent working within a stone’s throw of a sex club, I found out about the Dungeon too late. It’s like…finding out you live next to a sex club the day after it closes.
Well, I guess the only thing I can do is create my own place for people to get down and dirty. What should I call it?
*I’ll never know the feeling of hair such as that. I weep.
**2LiveCrew always does it for me.