Once I was back home in the bayou and the town cockmaster started telling me, "I’ve mastered all sorts of cock. Large, small, black, white.. it doesn’t matter. Now I just have to work on the balls."

Stunned, I replied to him, "Shut up, cockmaster."

As I went on my way I heard him weeping behind me, but I didn’t mind. Thank God it was Christmas and I could praise Jesus in public. I spent the day in church and got sick drinking the holy water and burnt my beard on the votive candles. All in all I could say the priest was ecstatic and the wine was swollen with sulfites. I wandered off after midnight and sought out an old woman to lift my esteem.

"I’m incredibly old", the woman told me. I felt much better and left for a motel.