“Penis,” I shout. “Huh?” “Uh, don’t touch my penis.” She stands back. “I wasn’t going to. I was going to suggest tucking your shirt in.” I stand taller, prouder. I flip my scarf over my shoulder, and with my chin held high, I say, “And I suggest you don’t touch my penis.” “Okay, suggestion received, but I wasn’t going to touch it.”
Something about shouting the word penis will always be funny to me. Im immature af.
