“I am one pair of roses away from the grave,” I told the midget with the twelve-inch erection. It wasn’t his—he was just holding it for a friend (that impressive penis belonged to a much taller man). Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“Sunday nights I get about two inches of sleep. But I make do, because that’s all the erection I can muster.”

“I was crying on the inside, but on the outside, to the casual observer, and to the man who was dying, I was laughing. That man was my father, and I haven’t laughed that hard since his funeral. Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“I snorted powdered flamingoes while I pondered love. I sat at the bar two hours waiting for my ice on the rocks to melt so I could drink it and leave, but it was like my ex wife’s heart—it was just too frigid to melt. So I called up a midget, buckled myself in on his back, and had him give me a ride home. Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“It’s amazing how my whole body can be covered up in bed except for one inch on my shoulders and I’ll be cold. But when I pull the blanket up all the way, all of one inch, miraculously I’m warm. One inch makes a difference, especially to a man with a two-inch penis.”

“The wind blew my words away from you. So while I told you I love you, the phrase was carried in the opposite direction and landed 333 miles away in the ears of a confused farmer. He was nice, though. He sent me a kind letter saying that while he was flattered, I wasn’t really his type.”

“I belong, and my penis, it be long.”