Firenze
Let me tell you about the most notable thing that happened to me in Florence. It wasn’t seeing the David, the Duomo, or Piazza della Signoria where the stunning statue of Perseus holding a severed Medusa's head stands, it was when blood came out of my dick. One morning after being woken by Tracy Chapman’s vile voice, I debated bludgeoning Vince’s face with a ceramic vase while he slept immune to Miss Chapman’s poisonous singing and instead wandered to the bathroom to brush my teeth and relieve myself of the previous night’s wine. I addressed the former first and began brushing, however, the irritation of a full bladder made me come up with the genius and efficient plan to do both. Still brushing I walked to the toilet, pulled my penis out, and began urinating. It is important to note that whether I’m urinating in public, showing a good chum my penis or some other pressing need to pull my dick out, I’ve always been an over the fence kind of guy. A powerful, steady stream of urine blasted forth as I merrily brushed my teeth. Despite having a firm, manly grip the elastic waistband of my boxers slipped from my fingers and onto the shaft of my hefty, but flaccid penis causing it to pinch like a kinked garden hose. The backpressure caused an intense pain unlike any I’ve felt before. Toothpaste foam shot from my mouth as I screamed out loud in agony finally waking Vince from his slumber. I franticly grasped at the waistband and pulled it down. A blast of urine exploded out of the tip of my penis like a fire hose used on Civil Rights activists in the 60s, but then, suddenly, a faint red hue showed in the urine, steadily growing darker and more incarnadine. For the better part of a minute, my penis sprayed blood like a nicked artery as I watched the toilet water turn red with horror.
“What happened!?” Vince yelled?
“Blood! It’s coming out of my dick!” I cried.
“WHY!?”
“The elastic!” I gasped, “It pinched my urethra!”
The crimson stream slowly enervated and I shamefully flushed the crime scene down the toilet. I carefully repositioned my waistband and finished brushing in pain. For the next three days, my urine was tinged with blood. I felt the Fire of Firenze and my penis stung like a sailor’s with a fresh case of chlamydia. Is Florence one of the most beautiful cities in the world? You ask. Yes, but more importantly, don’t brush your teeth while pissing.
