Famous

In an underground bunker in Czechoslovakia, the scientists await the readout with bated breath. Sweat beaded on their brows, they can barely stand the pause before the computer lights up: CALCULATIONS COMPLETE

When the findings reach the United Nations, an uproar is ignited. "It's playing God!", they cry. "Would you reduce us to mere numbers?".

It's because they're afraid. Afraid to know the truth. But they know what must be done.

An emergency press conference is called. Ban Ki-moon stands before a sea of glistening camera lenses.

"Ladies and Gentlemen", he says. "For the last twelve years, the top researchers in the world have slaved away in a highly controversial study on the male genitalia.

"For it is not the length, nor the girth, nor the stamina of a man that defines great sex. There is proportion, and the position of blood vessels, skin tone and texture and circumcision. There are many factors that define the theoretical 'perfect penis'."

"On this day, we can announce that it is no longer a theory. The perfect dick is out there, somewhere."

"Waiting."

New machines pop up in every pharmacy, next to the blood pressure station. Friends go together, for literal dick measuring contests. Some laugh. Some cry.

Social station begins to be measured by the quality of a man's dick. The poor scorers are dubbed the 'unfuckables' and relegated to the ghettoes, while a man with pedigree papers can pick up any woman he wants. "Want to ride my magic school bus?" they ask. "I'm as close to perfection as they get."

They say this, and they believe it. Because they haven't met me.

I go in for a regular checkup at my doctor's. "I see that you haven't had an official dick sizing", they say. "Would you like to try the machine?"

"Sure", I go. "Why not?" And I stick it in.

The machine beeps. Then buzzes. The man at the desk looks at the reading.

"This can't possibly be right," he says. "Damn kids must have messed it up as a prank."

"Well, since the machine isn't working right now, we can slide you into Dr. Vena's schedule. She's an expert penis evaluator."

Dr. Vena looks me over. It's amazing that she achieved three PhDs while still in her early 20's. "I can generally gauge a man's score by his outward appearance" she says. She slides her manicured fingers down her long, crossed legs. "And to be honest, you don't look promising. Drop 'em."

I oblige.

Her expression locks. Her entire body is motionless, but for a slight twitching in her cheek. Her cherry lollypop slips from her full lips and falls to the floor.

Her hand begins to move, desperately groping for the phone while her eyes stay pinned to me. She finds it, raises it to her ear with a trembling hand. "D-d-d-doctor Stone," she manages, "contact the UN. Tell them I've found their man. They should call me in, say, four hours or so." Her mouth quirks into a tiny smile.

"I still need to give a thorough examination."