Epic Tales # 1

Once upon a time, in a land where transexuals read Rimbaud, I met a one eyed prick. His name was Si Klops and for obvious reasons. With a fist full of dried shit and a mouthful of prose, he lured in his prey with slip of the tongue. Girl after girl, boy after boy, Si plowed his way through innocence like a degenerate cropper. He would proudly boast on any chosen night that he fucked like a panzer attack and he sent his lovers home crippled. He was a real son of a bitch.

One evening, just past supper, Si got the surprise of his life. He wound up in cockroach motel with another sleezeball everyone knew as Ceramic Dick Bearded. Mr. Bearded's cock was made out of 100 percent, American made ceramic and was monsterous. They sat around, smoked a couple good pipes and decided to get down to business. Our cycloptic hero had his face pressed against the wall while his ass got a lesson in romance. There wasn't much mercy in the room that night. Si woke up in the hospital, minus a wallet and an ability to walk. The story goes that he never fucked again after that day. He simply rolled his piece of shit bones from tavern to tavern, telling his fables like non fiction.

Ceramic Dick let everyone know there was a new bastard in town. Anyone with a bag of dope and a sweet spot got a fine piece of phallic pottery planted inside them. Story traveled far and wide of this freak show Casanova; Even as far as a carnival of paraplegic tight rope walkers known as The Clothes Pins. He was becoming a myth in his own time and soon enough was in all the papers.

"READ ALL ABOUT IT! THE MAN WITH THE BAKED CLAY COCK PENETRATES OUR HEARTS AND ORIFICES!"

But with this fame tagged along depression. He was tired of being that street hustler with the phony penis. His mother and father had caught wind of his talents and shunned him for being a deviant. He was tired. In an alley next to some dive, Ceramic Dick loaded a pistol and blasted his cock into a thousand pieces. It was the only way. His dirt caked hands dropped the gun and he stumbled through the bar doors like a priest in an alter boy. There, at the bar, sat Si Klops. He was old and decrepit and was shitting and pissing his pants. After a few drinks, they drove off to Reno and got married by a cheap Elvis. One eye and Dickless Dick lived happily ever after in a space ship 50 miles west of the desert. They never had kids.