Black Crepe, and the punch was bad too.
It is virtually a mandate that certain classifications of event cause you to become retro-nostalgic. The death of a pet, the loss of a loved one, the leaving of an oft-despised or oft-lauded job after several years...and the removal of one's cock ring. Yes, my little halo is gone, leaving only a nest of (temporary, goddammit) scar tissue and the oh-so many memories of flashing strangers and loved ones alike my glittering metallic genetalia. Of course, this is a summation of wit; however, there is a deep reserve of introspection governing the knowledge of the sheer interactivity my little PA had on the last two years of my life. Without it- well, I certainly would not have had as much "medical curiosity" sex. I would still be able to pee standing up. It seems apropos that it had to go now though. I'm late, we'll discuss this later.