After my last break-up, I went into a funk. No matter who I met, I got slapped, or they rolled their eyes at me, or some shit. One night at Session 73, I was taking a leak. I shook off and then heard this voice, "Dude, you gotta relax."
I looked around. I was alone.
"Down here." So I looked down, and there was my penis, talking to me.
"What?"
"Look," it said, "You can't be all up in girls' faces, on their jocks and stuff. Be nice. Buy a drink. Tell her her perfume is nice."
"I could do that."
"Good! Try again!"
I tucked my penis away and went to the bar. A little hottie was alone. The bartender made her way to me.
"I'll have a Budweiser and the lady will have...?" I gestured to the hottie, who wisely piped up.
"The same." She smiled at me. "I'm Rebecca. What brings you here?"
Before my penis schooled me, I would have said, "I'm looking for a little tartlet to send home with a stretched ass." But instead: "Just unwinding after a long week. Your perfume is great."
Back at my place, she was giving me head. She came up, licked my ear and said, "Get a condom."
I hit the bathroom. My penis said, "Good work. But let's slow this down."
"What? You said, 'Be nice.' I was nice, and now we're getting some ass!"
"But that's your M.O. You pick up these chicks and they always suck..."
"Yeah, my cock!" But there was no one to high-five. Anyway.
"Tell her you don't have any condoms and just, you know, talk."
"My God, what kind of penis are you?" I grabbed a condom from the medicine cabinet and went back to the bedroom. I slipped it on, but then
I went limp.
Rebecca jerked me, but nothing. Later, I put her in a cab. When I was back upstairs, I pulled out my cock and slapped it on the table.
"Didn't you see those fucking tits? Didn't you like the way she sucked you off? WHAT THE FUCK!" I slapped the fucker on the table again.
"Ouch! I'm just trying to help you make better girl decisions! I thought after Shelly and Dina you might be a little more prudent, but I guess not!"
"I'll show you fucking prudence!"
I went into the kitchen and got the cleaver, then I laid my cock and balls on the table like Robert Mapplethorpe's
Mr. 10 1/2.
My penis began to sweat. "Let's not be rash here."
"Hey, I should have done this a long time ago. Good riddance, you stupid cock."
And that's how I became the oldest member of the Harlem Boys Choir.