Polysomething

Arriving to his apartment, Aaron walked into the living room and smiled; Alex's shoes were standing neatly with the others. "Yes," he said, throwing his arms up in mock celebration. "She's learned. She's finally learned to put her shoes away."

"Suck a dick," Alex said from the chaise.

"What?" he said, turning then laughing. "I'm just happy that you're— Oh my God!" He stopped, seeing his best friend, surrounded by a mess of plates and dirty napkins and pizza boxes. "Alex, what the hell?"

"Oh, stop it," Alex said, waving the wine glass in her hand at Aaron. "I'll clean it up later. Pumpkin Sunday came early!"

Aaron pursed his lips, imagining she was somewhere between tipsy and fun drunk, and then, with a puzzled look, asked: "What?"

"Pumpkin Sunday came early," Alex said, pointing the wine glass at the computer in her lap. The red liquid inside titled to the rim. 

"Um, okay," Aaron said, walking over to the chaise. "Let's be careful"--he put his hand underneath the wine glass and guided it to a balanced positioned--"so we don't have wine stains on every piece of furniture. What's Pumpkin Sunday?"

"It's like the new Eggplant Friday, but reversed. Let me show you." The wine glass returned to the screen of her computer, threatening the last piece of fabric that hadn't been destroyed by Alex's clumsy wine drinking. "Okay, so this is Eggplant Friday." 

On the screen, there was a well-built black man—taking a selfie—in nothing but jogging pants. Immediately, Aaron made the connection: eggplants look like dicks and this particular man was showing off his "eggplant" through his jogging pants. Aaron blew a raspberry. "Please," he said. "He obviously played with himself before he took that picture."

"So," Alex said, shrugging. "I ain't mad at it." She took a sip of her wine then scrolled down the web page, showing more men and their "eggplants." "Okay. So that was Eggplant Friday and this"—she switched to the next page—"is Pumpkin Sunday."

"Ah, I get it now," Aaron said, nodding. There was a collection of handsome, muscular men—again, taking selfies—who were facing the opposite direction, showing off their "pumpkins" through their underwear.

"So what do you think about Pumpkin Sunday?" Alex asked, turning to Aaron.

"Um...I think I like Pumpkin Sunday more than Eggplant Friday."

"Yeah, me too," Alex said, "but I'm starting a petition for both of them to become national holidays. You know, just to be safe." She then took another sip of wine.

Aaron laughed through his nose. "You're so stupid."

"I know," Alex said. "But what the hell am I supposed to do? There are no guys on Hooker."

Aaron sucked his teeth. "Are you serious? There are no guys, out of thirty sites?"

"Yup, no guys," Alex answered. "Just a whole lot of dicks. And I literally mean dicks. I got like twenty dick pics today. No, sorry. Eighteen. One guy said he had two dicks, but I didn't get to see them."

A quick laugh escaped Aaron's mouth. "What?"

"A guy messaged me saying he had two dicks, so I asked the guy to prove it by showing them in front of today's Google doodle. I think it was in honor of Amelia Earhart's one hundred and fifth birthday or something. Whatever, the guy never responded, so I'm guessing he was either a thirteen-year-old boy fucking with me or just some lazy asshole with two dicks."