The loss of my dearest friend - Tragic story which is not about plastic toys
Everyone, at some point in their lives, must come across somebody with whom they find they have a deep connection. Somebody with whom they get on so easily, with whom they feel they can share any secret. A true "best friend," if you will.

(Hermits are the obvious exception to this rule.)

I too found one such individual. He was almost like a miniature version of myself - quiet and reserved, but without the long hair. At least, not until later in life, when he too decided to grow his. And invariably, we found ourselves sharing so much of life's joys. We both enjoyed the freedom of the open air, we both screwed ourselves up in fear during scary films, we both got the same orgasmic shiver at the climaxes of Carmina Burana, Beethoven's 5th or even Won't Get Fooled Again. Hell, we even had identical taste in women.

This is not to say we were carbon copies of each other - we also complimented each other perfectly. I needed him. He gave me a sense of worth and boosted my self-esteem no end. Conversely, I, being the bigger and stronger of the two, gave him the care and protection he needed. I can still remember days when chill winds would blow and he would cower behind my leg.

I am of course talking about my penis.

Thus it came as a devastating blow (stop sniggering at the back) to me when I was diagnosed with leprosy. My skin began to look flaky and jaundiced, and, as it spread to Penis, the two of us became awkward. We no longer shared the close relationship we once had.

Fortunately, the doctors dispelled one myth for me: leprosy doesn't actually cause appendages to drop off. Penis and I were obviously relieved - the fear of being separated was driving us both mad.

So it was a real kick in the teeth when I also caught ebola. The virulent, flesh-eating virus had got in, the doctors thought, through my leprotic sores.

My dear friend, already weak with the leprosy, was nibbled off by the virus within a few weeks. Penis and I were separated. He was as good as dead; I had lost my closest friend.

I could not bear to throw him away, to let him rot at the bottom of a medical waste bin. I did all I could to make sure he had a dignified end. I pickled him.

And so now he sits close to me, at the side of my desk, preserved in a jar of vinegar. His pickled presence reminds me of the times we had together. I miss his tender, supportive company, but I can warm my heart with the thought that once in my life, I had that most special of gifts: a true, honest penisfriend.
(LongJohnBaldry, Sat 16 Aug 2008, 11:55, 3 replies)

Ummm...
ebola is a hemorrhagic fever. your friend may have vomited copious amounts of blood, but the virus does not eat flesh. and leprosy is very rare in the modern world. i would suggest you just wank too much and dont wash enough.
(lazy killer robot found that beer tastes better when your older, Mon 18 Aug 2008, 6:04, closed)

My mistake, evidently
I always thought ebola actually digested the flesh of its host.

Just because leprosy is rare in the modern world, doesn't mean it's impossible to contract.

_{Though, yes, I probably did just wank too much.}
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 18 Aug 2008, 9:38, closed)

Hmmm
Would necrotizing fasciitis do your cock in? I'm guessing it could.
(JohabMorelli is spenging merrily away, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 14:35, closed)