"Maybe an Angel did it. Maybe an Angel bit your dick off"
Frank exclaimed towards Luke with God-fearing eyes. He was always the one to bring religion into matters of the unknown.
"No, no, no, wasn't no angel that bit my dick off, don't be daft."
Though Luke couldn’t be sure, he usually slept with his left hand covering the warm fleshy mass, like it was a bulletproof vest and his balls were in a gun fight. This being a habit he formed in childhood it was one he just couldn’t break, and it only really proved to be a real nuisance when taking naps in church. He awoke that hot August morning and reached for the spot where his pride and joy once sat only to fine there was now nothing. Just a smoothed, slightly concave, plateau of skin where once existed manhood. Totally vacant as if, well maybe, he had just dreamed he had a penis all these years.
"Well the way you been using it, maybe it just packed up and left, needed a massage or some down time."
Frank knew about Luke’s masturbatory timeline on account of them sharing a one-bedroom shack above the barn they worked at. Luke had to excuse himself for smoke breaks three times a day, only peculiar thing was Luke didn’t smoke. He'd rush from the corn field, or from milking the cow in a huff like a doctor visiting a patient on his death bed, and return like a cool summer breeze that had just been twerked from God's dong. Luke liked to logisticize to Frank, if others can take a smoke break, I can take a personal health break as well. Logic being logic, and logic has a way of being itself; well it sorta made sense to Frank. Only problem was Luke tended not to wash his hands before he milked the blue bell, and I don’t know how babies are made, but gosh that just doesn’t seem right.
"You kidding me, I massage that son of a bitch more than anyone else."
Again, this being true, all the more reason for a frank and his beans to take a vacation. But where would a Johnson go for holiday, the depths of an underwear drawer? A lesbian bar? Your grandfathers jockey shorts? A softball game? Munich? Luke hadn’t the first idea as to where to look. But he did intend to get the escapee back.
"Yea well you know what I mean, probably just needed a break."
Luke had no idea what Frank meant, he’d never heard of a mans very manhood needing a break from the rest of the man. In his 33 years of existence his tally had been his best friend and Frank being his second best took a back seat now and then. When Luke had an extra ticket to a ball game, he took his package. When Luke took the car out, guess who sat shotgun? When Luke was with a woman, and she had a friend, Frank got sloppy seconds after Luke and his beefy friend had ravaged them. In fact Frank sort of liked the idea of Luke being detached from that cock block for a little while.
“I intend to get it back, I do,”
Luke sobbed into his cream of wheat that morning. The shadow of a man without a penis, well that’s no shadow of a man at all; and this thought weighed on Luke. Frank secretly wondered if his friend of 25 years might start growing tits. Was this the beginning of a transformation? Would his facial hair pack up just like his testicles? Would his short cropped black hair grow into curly velvety locks? Maybe the vacancy formerly occupied by Lukes best friend would grow inward into a shorn vagina; stranger things have happened. Would Frank be ok with dating his best friend? Shit, he would technically be a she, and she’d have all the required parts. They get along about as well a whore and a dick with a 500 dollar bill tied around it already. But could he marry Luke one day if it came down to it? After knowing that he lived his life as a man for 33 years previous. Well he’d have to think about that one.
Frank shouted raising them both from their sordid daydreams. Luke looked at him peculiarly. What the hell was that? What the hell was that indeed, Frank’s face looked back. Had he really just been contemplating marrying his best friend if he woke up the next morning with a hole where his penis once layed like a drunk sloth? Frank was lonely, but had he let himself get too lonely. Maybe he oughta quit smoking and enjoy a few mental health breaks of his own. The farm was a lonely place, even lonelier when the only women roaming the land were Ms. Krumpkin whose nipples were held hostage between her second and third fat roll, and her young daughter Susan, who though was a looker, had just mastered walking on her own. No! Frank you must shake off those filthy thoughts. After all, you are a God-fearing man.
With a screech as chair legs fought with barn floor, Frank excused himself from the table the two had shared for the last three years whilst working on the Krumpkin farm. He told Luke he was going to take a leak, but realized his error when Luke’s frown defied gravity in its sharp upturn. Was a urine stream now a luxury? How would Luke relieve himself without a hose or a hole? Would it merely seep from his pores like a bastard waterfall? Frank went into the little detached hut where piss and shit were laid to waist and twisted on the leaky faucet.
“I will not have unholy thoughts about my friend, I will not have unholy thoughts about my friend.
His loss is not my gain, his loss is not my gain.”
Frank continued to repeat these harsh words as he splashed cold water on his face like some sort of twisted baptismal twitch. He glanced into the rusty mirror above the shit tank and made out two scared eyes. Where was all this coming from? He shook his face about like a man trying to get dirty water out of his dirtier ear and unzipped his pants for a morning leak. He went to grab at his snake, happy that Luke’s affliction hadn’t spread to the 2nd nearest Y Chromosome and saw something that made him scream, something that made him run from that hut like a pedophile from a preschool full of cops.
The doors to the small breakfast nook burst open as Frank held his pants together between his white knuckled hands. Luke looked up at his scared face and rolled his eyes.
“I lost my penis today, what the hell do you got that’s gonna justify that pussy face of yours”
With that, Luke dropped his pants and Frank’s mouth fell open so hard his tongue rolled out like in one of those old cat and mouse cartoons, I swear it. Wouldn’t you know sitting on the mound of pubis where Frank’s lone bat and balls had been sat Lukes right next to it, like two elephant trunks dangling in the breeze of the Outback. Both men looked at each other like it was end of times. Whilst this day was the apocalypse for Luke, it was the heavenly Mothers birthday for Frank.
“I guess he got lonely,” Frank shrugged.
A fire stirred in Luke’s eyes as he stared at his best friend attached to his second best friend. “Don’t you move, I’m getting a saw.”