"HEY ASSHOLE, wake up. Yeah I'm talking to you, open your eyes."
What, huh, just who is talking to me so early in the morning?
"OK, OK I'm awake, what do you want?"
Better question is who you are as I look around my bedroom there is nobody here. Then I hear him again and it sounds as if he is under the covers. I throw back my blanket to see my penis staring at me.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Penis that sounds like somebody who hangs around with Butthead. My name is Cock, you got that, or I'll accept prick or maybe Dick but no matter what that girl downstairs says you cannot ever call me MR. Winky."
"Hey buddy, you belong to me and I can call you anything I want to, understand."
"You think so? Well how about a nice UTI to show you who's the boss, or maybe no erection for the next six months. Then we'll see who's running the show here."
"I think we're getting off track here, the real question is why after all these years you now decide to talk to me?"
"After what happened last night, it's obvious to me that you're no longer capable of making intelligent decisions. Just what the hell were you thinking, you had that girl almost begging for me, and then you leave her there in the bar for some other prick."
"Who are you talking about; wait a minute you mean that fat girl with the cross eyes and hump?"
"And just how many other beauties did you have begging to go to bed with you last night?"
"Hey, there's no way I would have taken her home, she's not my type."
"Sure I understand, she's not your type, so instead of a sure thing you come home and rough me up with that hairy palm of yours. I don't mind you abusing me when you're too stupid to score but you had that chick in the bag and you let her get away."
"Hey cut me some slack here, I have standards you know, and I don't just fuck anything in a skirt."