Looking for the owner of a misplaced penis…

A couple of nights ago I had a dream that somebody had attached their penis to my upper thigh. How they managed to do this, or why, remains a mystery to me.

During my dream I was much more concerned about whether the penis actually belonged to me and felt somewhat panicked at the thought that perhaps I had attached it to my upper thigh, and then simply forgot about it.

“I am rather forgetful,” I reminded myself reproachfully.

The only way to test whether the member was mine was to er…you know…hrmm…and see whether I felt anything. Obviously.

I will spare you the details, but after putting some elbow grease into it, I happily discovered that it was not mine. I would have been much more happy about the whole thing, only I had just stroked somebody else’s penis so it was an awkward moment. You understand, I’m sure.

The up side was that all I had to worry about was getting back to my apartment (because naturally I discovered the addition to my anatomy while at somebody else’s place). Until, well, have you ever tried to slide into a pair of jeans with an engorged penis attached to your thigh? Not possible. So, being a rational person, I decided to wrap myself in a skimpy throw and walk to my place semi-naked.

“Bravo,” you’re thinking, “good call!”

No, I’m afraid not. It took about five minutes for me to realise that not only was I lost (as well as naked and in possession of a foreign penis), but also in the centre of Warsaw.

Everybody was staring at me, and – mortification beyond mortification – as I walked past a distinguished group of middle-aged people, one of them reached out and tried to rip my cover away. My last thought before I woke up was: “Not my left boob. I don’t want anybody to see my left boob.”