“What’s this on my head?”

I went to a gathering of sorts with a mostly male audience Friday night. I was up for over 24-hours (thanks to my crazy work schedule) but decided the evening would best be spent with an adult beverage or two. After a few of those and a quick round of Power Crank (this is a game invented by my friend John and I – involving one shot of beer every minute for the duration of the film), I passed out faster than a deer with buckshot in its brain. When I woke up the next day, I noticed something drawn on my freshly shaved head.


Dreams of Sweetness (1/2009)

The funny thing is, I didn’t notice it until after I threw up the next morning. I did the business, then headed to the sink to wash my mouth out. After some moaning, rinsing, and rubbing, I looked in the mirror. I noticed some Sharpie colors on the side of my head. I turned my head slowly to see what the business was. But before I saw it in full, I already knew there would be a penis — a donger — right there on my dome.

“Shit, I’ve been had!” I thought.

Then I chuckled. I probably would have done the same thing if I noticed a bald guy sleeping on the couch. Only the Michaelangelo who drew this reproductive organ on my head wasn’t too skilled in the art of illustration, like yours truly. This cock was so small; small as if it just exited a cold pool or ocean. It was frightened. Scared. Alone.

Should I have illustrated it, it would have been glorious. Like this one a student of mine drew in my classroom. This bastard covered a whole desk with a cock the size of a small child. You should have seen it; this thing was huge. It could’ve conquered New York City. This one on my head though, couldn’t conquer an ant hill.

To the illustrator of the penis on my cranium, kudos to you. I had a good laugh and thankfully, it wasn’t hard to clean. In fact, it was very limp.

Author: bronsonfive

Film, movies, whatever.

4 thoughts on ““What’s this on my head?””

  1. I like the, what I can only assume is a giraffe, in the picture. He just seems so, out of place. Almost as if he’s thinking to himself “Wtf, how did I get here? Who is that bald cock spackled fellow through that doorway through space and time.”

  2. Jbone: Indeed.

    Thatpessimist: I wrote a blog during your absence and dedicated it to you. I’ll find it and send it your way.

    Kerplar: Giraffes are staples here at Pictures of Doom. Glad to see your back to read my shit.

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