Stacy, an attractive, friendly young woman in her early 20s, was heading down to the local green grocer when she spied her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Cranston, a few feet ahead of her. Just at that moment, an object fell out of Mrs. Cranston’s pocket and onto the sidewalk. Stacy quickly ran to the object, picked it up, and then returned it to Mrs. Cranston with a friendly hello.
“Why, thank you, Stacy! You’re such a polite young lady! Not enough of them around these days, I dare say.”
“Oh, Mrs. Cranston, you’re sweet. I’m sure there are many people just as conscientious out there who would gladly return a lost item to a friend, or even a stranger. Speaking of which, what was that thing you dropped?”
“That,” said Mrs. Cranston, with a small tear in her eye, “is my late husband Carl’s penis. I carry it with me wherever I go to remember the good times we shared.”
“I’m so sorry to have brought it up!” Stacy replied.
“It’s all right, dear. Carl and I had sixty-two wonderful years together. All good things must come to an end. Still, sometimes it is hard, with him not around.”
“I understand. Mrs. Cranston, can I ask you a question about marriage?”
“Why certainly, honey. Here, sit down with me on this old bench and you ask whatever you want to ask.”
The two of them sat down.
“Well, you see, Mrs. Cranston, it’s…”
“It’s Kevin. We’ve been going steady for the past five years and I’m ready to take things to the next level, but he doesn’t show any sign of wanting to propose. I can’t tell if he’s just nervous and scared or if he doesn’t take things as seriously as I do.”
“Ah. Let me tell you a story, Stacy. Back when the war was on, Carl was overseas. He’d write to me every week and I’d write back, and in every letter I’d drop little hints that I was ready, but he never seemed to get it. So finally, when he came back between tours of duty, I proposed to him.”
“That’s right! I got down on my knees and asked me to marry him. In those days, that was done even less than it is now, and folks could get awful mad about it. I didn’t care, though, Stacy, and you know why?”
“Because I was in love. And I knew Carl loved me, too. True, I didn’t know if he was afraid of proposing, afraid of the commitment or how I might answer him. Heck, for all I knew, maybe he just plain didn’t want to get married at all.”
“So weren’t you scared?”
“Sure I was! But I didn’t let that stop me! When you love someone, you have to take that risk and put your heart on the line, even if you might get hurt. It’s worth it, trust me, it is worth it.”
“So is that how you and Mr. Cranston got married?”
“It was. I even gave him a ring, rather than the other way ’round! Of course, we were poor in those days, so all I could afford was one I’d made myself out of aluminum foil and a shiny pebble. But it was just as good. And since he didn’t have a ring for me, he gave me this instead.”
Mrs. Cranston smiled and held the penis up to Stacy’s face. Stacy smiled.
“Wow. Thanks, Mrs. C. I think I know what I have to do now.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” said Mrs. Cranston, with a much deeper voice than usual.
“What?! But you just told me to–oh!”
Suddenly, Mrs. Cranston’s jaw unhinged and the top and bottom halves of her head split apart, and from her mouth emerged Stacy’s fiancé, Kevin! Soon, Mrs. Cranston’s whole body crumpled up like rubber on the ground and Kevin was sitting next to his bride-to-be. He got down on all fours and looked into Stacy’s eyes.
“Stacy Whitehammer, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” They embraced, and Kevin’s tongue got so far into Stacy’s mouth that her uvula tickled.
“But if you’re here, where’s Mrs. Cranston? I need to return this!” Stacy held up Mr. Cranston’s penis.
“Stacy,” said Kevin, “There is no Mrs. Cranston. There never was. It was me the whole time.”
“All these years?”
“Yep!” Kevin smiled proudly.
“Oh, Kevin!” Once again they embraced, and then Stacy looked again at the penis.
“Let’s plant it! To mark the date of our engagement!” she exclaimed with excitement.
“Yes, let’s!” Kevin replied eagerly.
And so Stacy and Kevin went to the park and planted the penis, and it grew into a wonderful tree.
Many years later, a young boy of only three years of age sat beneath that very tree. A pigeon landed next to him, and with inhuman speed, the youngster grasped the bird in his fists and strangled it to death.
“Mommy, mommy, look at me! I’m a big boy!”
Though the lad was Caucasian and only a toddler, his voice was that of a full-grown man of African descent.