Transcript

I woke up this morning with a bad hangover, and my penis was missing again. This happens all the time–it’s detachable. This comes in handy a lot of the time. I can leave it home when I think it’s gonna get me in trouble, or I can rent it out when I don’t need it. But now and then I go to a party, get drunk, and the next morning I can’t for the life of me remember what I did with it. First I looked around my apartment, and I couldn’t find it. So I called up the place where the party was; they hadn’t seen it either
I asked them to check the medicine cabinet, ‘cause for some reason I leave it there sometimes, but not this time
So, I told them if it pops up to let me know. I called a few people who were at the party, but they were no help either
I was starting to get desperate. I really don’t like being without my penis for too long; it makes me feel like less of a man, and I really hate having to sit down every time I take a leak. After a few hours of searching the house and calling everyone I could think of, I was starting to get very depressed. So I went to the Kiev, and ate breakfast. Then, as I walked down Second Avenue towards St. Mark’s Place, where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street, I saw my penis lying on a blanket next to a broken toaster oven. Some guy was selling it–I had to buy it off him. He wanted twenty-two bucks, but I talked him down to seventeen. I took it home, washed it off and put it back on. I was happy again. Complete.

People sometimes tell me I should get it permanently attached, but I don’t know–even though sometimes it’s a pain in the ass, I like having a detachable penis.