Mathew Broderick is going to need a stunt-penis
He sat quietly, an old man drinking in the dark.
“It’s just lubricant!” he used to joke.
They stopped laughing, after a while.
He could feel the rust in his right arm. It hurt, the rust.
An old episode of Baywatch flickered across his TV.
He watched it, half-interested. After a while he undid his belt, lowered his pants.
“Go-go gadget penis,” he whispered.
He watched, horrified, as, with a puff of rust, it simply fell to the ground.
