It was around 2 o'clock on a Wednesday.
I'd been reading the liner notes of every greatest hit's CD that I own when it struck me. It had been 3 months since the last time I've been laid. Masturbation just doesn't cut it. I'll swear it off; sex and self love—nothing but distractions anyways.
The bars are full of disgusting slop and my track record with relationships is a continuous dis-appointment.
I went out back, behind the garage where the trashcans sit, reached into one, dug my hand along the side, and pulled out a 2 night old pizza box. I ripped it in half and salvaged
the top half, which was clear of rotting cheese and grease.
I shoved the sharpie back into my pocket, grabbed a lawn chair, and took my sign and the chair to the edge of the road.
An hour, maybe longer, had gone by. There was minimal traffic and I began wondering if I should've written, 'DICK 4 SALE: $100', more boldly than what the sharpie allowed.
It wasn't until I took off my pants and boxer briefs that the prospective buyers began swarm-ing in. I spread my legs a little, stuck the sign between them, and plopped
my cock on the top of the sign.
There were 20 something's driving by pointing their fingers, middle aged women walking their schnauzers staring, and teenage girls riding their bikes up and down the street whispering
and giggling. I smiled and lit a cigarette.
I was beginning to get frustrated by all of the proverbial window shopping going on. On top of the obvious anomaly of some guy trying to sell his dick on the side of the street, it was as if they were afraid of it.
"Don't be scared." I said to a woman of about 30 that had been walking back and forth all af-ternoon, "Come get a better look."
She cocked an eyebrow and hesitantly made her way over.
"Ya like what you see?"
"…maybe." she said as she began chewing on her thumbnail.
"I'll tell ya what. For you, I'll make it $50."
"gee, I don't—"
I interrupted with a forceful, "$25!"
"Well, ok. But where are we going to do this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Where are you going to 'give it' to me?"
"Right here", I said.
"I'm not having sex right HERE!"
I let out a good laugh. "We're not going to have sex!"
"Then what—wait, I'm confused."
"Hang on." I said as I put the sign beside the chair and made my way into the house, down the hall, and into the kitchen. I retrieved a 9" carving knife and headed back out to the woman, sat down in my chair, grabbed onto the head of my prick, and stretched it out. I took the knife
with my other hand and hovered the blade inches away from the base.
"Like this." I informed her.
I was pretty shocked at how shocked she seemed considering the expressions people had been giving me all day long.
"YOU CAN'T DO THAT! YOU'RE SICK! WHAT IF YOU DID CUT IT OFF? THEN WHAT? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE LEFT?"
"All balls, baby."