MICROFICTION

Just Slide the Damn Penis In

She begged until he finally gave in

“Please, will you put the damn penis in? Don’t fool around. Don’t make me beg you,” my editor, Cheryle demanded, visibly upset. “I need that penis in there!”

“I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do. After all, what would my wife think?” I responded, always the caring, faithful husband.

“She knows that it’s for a good cause,”, Cheryle retorted. “Besides, you can tell her that your boss made you. You’ll lose your job if you don’t stick that damn thing in there.”

“She knows how much you love penis, but I don’t think she’d care. She’d tell me to stand up for my principles, and not let anyone take advantage of my good nature,” I retorted.

Cheryle leaned over seductively, forcing her full, ample breasts directly in my face. She was so close that I could smell her natural muskiness intertwined with her perfume, Eros by Versace. I was suddenly weak at the knees and almost ready to break my vows.

Like a kitten, she purred, “I promise you’ll get many more reads if you put penis in the title of your story. Cross my heart and hope to die; it’ll work.”

Relenting, I say, “Ok, is this good? ‘Just Slide the Damn Penis In’ I don’t see how that works as a title for my hockey recap.”

“Yes, oh yes. Oh, thank you. You’re the best ever,” panted Cheryle, as she ran up the stairs to her office. She had to let everyone, including the editor-in-chief, know I had given her the penis. Boy, was that ever hard!

Paul Mansfield is a writer, a photographer, a guitar player, a philosopher — some he does well, some not so well, but he still tries them all.

You can follow him on Twitter @pmansfield.

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