King Dong.
King Dong. While I was meditating, I was getting flashbacks to my youth. At school, there used to be a boy called Andrew Wiggins; he was known amongst us boys as the boy you don’t want to stand next to in the shower; Andrew was blessed (or cursed) with having the most significant ‘Willy’ of us all, it wasn’t just a bit bigger than ours, it was huge, in fact it looked a bit like some of those deep sea monsters you see on sea life documentaries appearing from under a rock on the bottom of the ocean. We used to crack jokes, asking him what he fed the thing; we were in complete puberty and were amazed at anything and everything bodily; a girl in our class, for example, had six toes on one foot. Everyone wanted to date her just because of that one fact. Andrew Wiggins was also very muscular, good at sports, and a lovely lad; he wasn’t a bully; if you had him as a friend, you were pretty much safe from the boneheaded bullies that hung around. His speciality in sport was the...