Penis Police (P.p.)
They hover. They listen. They observe. Penis police are on the lookout as they heard Colossus is in town tonight. Church bells ring to warn him and dogs bark too. They know the legend of the happiness he can bring. They set up a stake out in a nearby building. Under-cover in Angela’s Castle. They trick people into thinking it is a restaurant or antique shop or dating agency for the rich. People are so confused by its lack of clarity as a business that they ignore the obvious signs of the Penis Police’s presence. They are men. Bizarrely. They are young. Even odder! They are internationally commissioned and no-one knows the source of their power and funding. Some say it is a multi-faith group. Some say it is angry, celibate authors. But no-body has ever proved it. Their duty is to the females. They believe that they are protectors. Knights of honour who seek and kill erections. They have myriad techniques for this and tools of the trade. They loosen screws on beds to create disconcerting squeaks. They cordon off whole neighbourhoods to create silence and unease. They play bad music and funnel familiar sounds in to scare lovers in the act to think they are children. They found a way to tap insecurities and amplify them. Worst of all, they can sync women’s times of the month to block out the weaker males. All can be overcome by Collossus. His power is infinitely stronger. Nothing can render him down. He has the sea and the moon on his side forever. It is futile battling Colossus, but the source of their funding continues so they just work on as many others to get paid at the end of the month and go out and get laid.
Pixie writes to stop herself talking, to put her excitement somewhere while thinking about important things and fun.