Friday Flash: Be Careful What You Wish For
(A change from my horror obsession this week. It’s based on a Facebook post by Lynn Caldwell)
“I’m the Penis Fairy,” said the twinkling elf sitting under my Christmas tree. “You know like the tooth fairy comes and takes away your teeth and leaves a sixpence under your pillow. I don’t carry cash and I don’t collect old teeth, so I make changes to your willy.”
Christmas Eve, pissed again, and now I was seeing things. Obviously, my fixation with my tiny todger was getting to me. I laughed in an effort to shrug it off. “I don’t believe in fairies.”
“You can see me. You can hear me. You talk to me. What’s not to believe?”
“My drunken mind,” I replied. “You’re not a fairy. You’re a warm beer hanging around my brain. You’re a psychological mania on the size of my widger. You’re a symptom of my obsession with Miranda.”
The Penis Fairy giggled. “In that case, let me do my work. If I’m an extension of your low self-esteem, it ain’t gonna happen and you can carry on using the cubicles in the toilets so the other guys won’t call you names like pimple dick.”
My boozed up brain was really giving that self-esteem some hammer tonight. I really would have to cut back on my drinking but it helped stave off the self-pity of another Christmas sleeping alone.
And the Penis Fairy was right. It wasn’t just the guys who called me pimple dick. The diminutive size of my horn was a legend throughout the office. None of the classier women like Miranda would date me, and even when I took out the less-classier girls, it was usually only the once.
“All right,” I said to the Penis Fairy. “What can you do for me and my tiny tiddler?”
“Make it longer and thicker,” said the Penis Fairy and flew circles around me, touching her tiny wand to my zipper as she passed by. She flew back up to the ceiling, and hung near the bare light bulb. “There you go. You now have a donkey dick. But there’s a teeny-weeny little condition. You must take one of these little blue pills every day. If you miss one pill, the spell will have unwanted side effects.” She aimed her wand at my palm and small bubble pack of pills appeared there.
I stared at them, and then back up at her. “How do you mean unwanted side effects?”
The Penis Fairy gave a sly wink. “Just unwanted side effects.”
I counted the pills. Seven in all. “What happens when I run out?”
“You can get them at any pharmacy,” she said, “or online at littlebluepills.penisfairy.com. Byeeee.”
And with a puff of smoke the Penis Fairy was gone.
I’d obviously had one too many in the Horse & Hounds. But just to make sure, I visited the bathroom to take a leak and … I almost fainted when I freed the mammoth from my shorts.
Even hanging there it was like a serpent. It was every man’s dream and if the guys in the office had it right, it was Miranda’s dream too. She like length, she liked width. With Miranda, size mattered. All my life I’d yearned for something to impress her, and now I had it. All I had to do was get the message across.
And that’s where the problems really began. Years of frustration had robbed me of the ability to chat to women. Meeting Miranda in the corridor, taking her hand, guiding it to my newly-enlarged lunchbox, then saying to her, “How’d you like a tube full of that?” was not the best way of seducing her. Even the cop who ran me in, sympathetic though he was, felt I’d made more than an ass of myself.
“You’re a bit of a dickhead, lad,” he said.
I didn’t realise how accurate that was until the following morning when they opened the cell door and fell about laughing.
They took my pills away when they locked me up. I missed a pill and the unwanted side effects kicked in.
My jowls fattened, my head tapered. My hair grew and parted in the middle. My head looked like a hard rod. I still had the donkey dong dangling between my legs, but I really looked like a dick.
Now, come rain or shine, I wander the streets wearing a hoodie, and I long for the days when I was known as pimple dick.