Peter's Little Peter

Double Entendre

The dimensions of my penis are as follows: three inches long, two inches in circumference. This is good news, according to Elroy, because he thinks we "have something to work with." Of course, I think the real problem is that I have nothing to work with, which is why I'm in this mess in the first place. In any case, Elroy says it'll take him a few days to "crunch the data" - whatever that means. In the meantime, he says I should just "hang loose" - an unfortunate turn of phrase for which he quickly apologizes.

I skip the Friday night game because I hate football. Actually, I'm indifferent to the sport, which is sin in this state, but what I really hate are the players. I spend the weekend locked in my room playing video games and reading Star Wars fanfiction about Han Solo and Chewbacca in college. The writing is mediocre, but there's something funny about the idea of Han and Chewie making a chore wheel for their dorm room. Plus, it's fun to fantasize about going away to college and escaping Texas.

But the fantasy only takes me so far. The whole point of going away to college is that I can be someone else, someone cooler, someone with more confidence. I can be the guy who gets the girl, but then what? I'll still be the guy with the small dick, which means the girl won't want to be with me. I know you're not supposed to let reality creep into your fantasies, but ever since "the incident," even my fantasies have bullies. 

So instead of thinking about going away to college where I'll lose my virginity to my dream girl, my thoughts to turn football. Specifically, the football team. I hope they lose. I hope it's a bruising, painful loss. I hope Nick Spears throws an interception that costs John Wayne High School the game. And most of all, I hope he cries. 

Of course, there's a saying in Texas: hope in one hand, shit in another, and see which one fills up faster. After hunkering down in my room for the weekend, Monday is a brutal return to reality. The team won, and Nick Spears got the game ball. To celebrate - and I use the word loosely - the school cancels morning classes so that we can have a victory rally in the gym. 

There's something disturbing about an educational institution canceling education to heap praise on a bunch of muscle-bound bozos whose only real contribution to this world is their ability to bash each other's faces in for a pigskin. But what's even more disturbing is that everyone else just seems to go along with this nonsense. The theater geeks decorated the gym for the rally. The math nerds clapped and screamed when the team was introduced. Even the losers showed their respect by attending, when it would've been much easier to cut school and head for the parking lot to smoke pot. 

I'm the only one who isn't in the mood to celebrate, because there's no way I'm going to cheer for these jerks. So while Coach Krieger drones on about the what an amazing team he's built, I slip out the back. But that's when I realize I have nowhere to go.

If I stay on the school grounds, the security guards will eventually find me and return me to the victory rally. Or even worse, they'll take me to the principal's office, which means I'll have to explain why I disrespected John Wayne High School and its vaunted football team, The Dukes. There are more difficult things to do in Texas, but I'm just not sure what those things are.

I can't go home because my Dad works from home. If he sees me at home when I'm supposed to be at school, he's going to want to have a talk. And I just don't want to go down the road, because what do you say? 

Mom and Dad, the thing is, everyone at school saw my penis, and it's really small, which you probably already knew because you've seen me naked and it's probably a genetic thing (thanks for that gift, btw!). But the kids at school didn't know, and now that they do know how small my penis is, I basically have a target on my back, whenever the jocks or the means girls feel like amusing themselves, and honestly, even the rejects think I'm a joke, so I can't even just be anonymous, which was pretty much my plan for surviving high school.