MY COCK

B. McGILLICUDDY

I feel highly ambivalent about the state of my cock. My cock seems okay maybe. Happy. Dietary needs fulfilled. My cock looks like it is trying to convey a 'cheery disposition' but it preemptively says things like 'Yeah bro! All's well bro! Go with the flow bro! Y'know I will!' before I can even say things to it. Then it laughs. Awkwardly. Like my cock is extremely aware of its uncanny resemblance to a single, middle-aged CFO with only about 38% the average sense of humor and 10% the average restraint that the vast majority of English-speaking persons appear to have regarding impulsively saying something extremely embarrassing or revealing about their problems. My cock seems secretly incredibly sad. I don't know why my cock is secretly incredibly sad. My cock won't tell me. I asked it flat out once and it said 'Let's play some fucking "World of Warcraft" bro!' I think maybe a psychiatrist would know what's wrong if I asked him or her to see my cock professionally. Seems like psychiatrists might be generally outside of my price range. I am not even sure if my cock is actually secretly incredibly sad. I just asked my cock 'What's up bro?' My cock said 'I haven't watered my azaleas at all this week bro. I'm seriously worried that they'll just die on me. Shrivel up and die bro.' 'Damn.' I said. I feel bad for my cock. I think I'll take my cock out shark fishing on the Chesapeake some time this week. Might get my cock to loosen up and tell me what's really 'going down'. Worried my cock might be secretly incredibly sad. Maybe to the point of severe depression. Maybe to the point of being borderline suicidal. Fuck. I would hate it if my cock had to go on medication. I've seen what it does to most severely depressed assholes. Seems like they just become total sphincters. Bitch ass palindromatic obnoxiously anxious sphincters. Please pray for my cock. What if my cock is heartbroken? Jesus Christ.

B. McGILLICUDDY