Congratulations on Removing Your Dick!

Today you’re going to be playing with a gun in the basement of your home while your wife is upstairs doing dishes.

“Pew pew, Osama,” you’ll whisper at the paper target on the wall, pointing towards it with the loaded weapon and flailing your arm about.

Your wife will know exactly what’s going on down there, but since you’re the breadwinner and divorcing you would make her a small town pariah she’ll do her best to pretend that you’re just building sex machines or something relatively normal like that.

After a few minutes of pointing at the poster and making gun sounds you’ll ram the pistol into the waistband of your pants and pretend to “draw” against the target. But when you reach in your hand will slip and feather the trigger, sending a .22 caliber round spiraling at high velocity into your penis and severing it at the base from your body.

“AUUUUUGH!” you’ll scream, which will bring your wife running down the stairs. When she sees the blood and the gun smoke she’ll know exactly what’s happened. She’ll calmly go upstairs, call 9-1-1, and then go downstairs to administer first aid to your ruined genitals.

She’ll apply pressure and cold to the wound until the paramedics arrive, at which point she’ll look at the lady paramedic and feel a tinge of desire. She’ll hold her hand outside of your house while you’re loaded into the back of the ambulance, telling her that she’d like to see her again. The lady-paramedic will be a little bit shocked, but once she thinks of your unique wound and your wife’s implausible attractiveness she’ll know what’s going on. She’ll put your wife’s cell phone number into her own and tell her that she’ll call her later, after your penis has been put on ice.

Then she’ll drive away with you howling curses at Osama all the while.

Congratulations on Removing Your Dick!