But here's the thing. This crutch thingy was making matters worse for menot better. I mean it was like an constant reminder that I had a penis. Apenis...that was not getting the attention it deserved. This constantreminder just made me want it more and think about it more. Eachsucceeding day was worse than the one before. No matter where I was I wasreminded about my penis and sex and masturbation. I would be sitting atwork and a co-worker would come in and bamm I would imagine them eitherknowing. One of them, a tall woman apparently in her20s, was seated on a rock eating some bread. When she saw me, she ran upto me and shouted:"My God, Jack, is that really you after all these years apart? I can'tbelieve it!" Look, who ARE you?" I cried."They call me American Wonder these days, and I go by the name JaniceKellerman!" she replied. "My real name, however, is Harvey Kentwell, aclassmate of yours at college."She then related the strange series of events that had caused herconsciousness to. More

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