My prick is so big…
There’s still snow on it in the summertime.
I have to call it Mr. Prick in front of company.
It won’t return Spielberg’s calls.
It has an elevator and a lobby.
It has casters.
There was once a movie called Godzilla vs. My Prick.
It lives next door.
I entered it in a big-prick contest and it came in first, second, and third.
It has a three-picture deal.
No matter where I go, my prick always gets there first.
I’d wear it as a tie if I wasn’t so afraid of getting a hard-on and killing myself.
A homeless family lives underneath it.
It takes four fat women and a team of Clydesdales to jack me off.
They use the bullet train to test my condoms.
It has investors.
I have to cook it breakfast in the mornings.
That we’re all a part of it, and it’s all a part of us.
It has its own dick. And even my prick’s prick is bigger than your prick.
It only does one show a night.
That right now it’s in the other room fixing us drinks.
It only tips with hundreds.
It only comes into work when it feels like it.
Movie theatres now serve popcorn in small, medium, large, and My Prick.