This is the first entry in what I plan to be a regular feature here at Ye Ole Fisting Post. The concept: noteworthy and amusing anecdotes from my lurid early days (i.e. my childhood). I'm not sure what to call it, though I know I had a pretty good name a few days ago that I'm trying to remember. All I can think of right now, in any case, is "FistBacks." (And I hope that soon, you too will only be able to think of FistBacks). The Fistbacks, of course, were a none-too-illustrious branch of Tom Thumb's remarkable family, but hopefully there will be no confusion. Here it is, your first FistBack:

When I was six, before reading or masturbating had come along (to me, I mean, not the world in general), I had to find something to do while in the bathroom. But what? You know where this is going by now: I opened the cabinet doors under the bathroom sink, found my mom's sanitary napkins, and proceeded to peel the "proofs of purchase" (as I thought them) off the adhesive. At that age, my mind was bent on acquiring toys, and anything you could peel off or cut out, I thought, must be a proof of purchase that could be sent away in exchange for a diverting trinket. So far, I can see the logic my six-year-old self was following. But why did I think that these paper strips were to be sent, not to the address on the box, but to the gym teacher at my school? Luckily, my mother put the kybosh on the whole enterprise (quite angrily, as it happens) before I could get to that stage.

Well, there it was: FistBack number one. Stay tuned for more of the same, plus "FistForward," the future's answer to FistBacks.