Episode 4: "Jerry's Penis Breaks the Internet"
When Taylor Swift retweets a story about Jerry's broken penis the Internet blows up and there's no where for Jerry to hide except under a palm tree at the beach.
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The surgery Jerry had on his penis was now complete, and even though his doctor described it as a Hail Mary, Jerry was hopeful it would one day function again.
He was discharged from the hospital and spent the next three days in bed at his Hollywood apartment. He wallowed in self-pity and frozen Pepperidge Farm chocolate cakes.
Sometimes he didn't give the cakes enough time to thaw so he had to bite hard on the corners with his teeth. It was a frustrating way to maintain his blood sugar.
He had money in the bank but no where near enough to retire. Normally Jerry would be ordering in comfort food but he was afraid to spend money. With his penis broken, his future was completely uncertain.
In the past he had been given the opportunity to direct porn but he didn't like it. It was too much trouble for too little money, he thought. Plus he didn't get to have sex, which is something he's always enjoyed.
Sometimes well known porn stars like Jerry got hired for non-sex “acting” roles but the money was poor and Jerry was a terrible actor, anyway.
On Day 3 he finally moved himself from the bed to the couch.
His living room was surrounded by dozens of boxes that he never unpacked from his last move.
Many of the boxes held DVDs from earlier in his career with titles like, “Balls Deep,” “Balls, Balls, Balls!” “Ballroom Spitz,” “Great Balls of Jerry,” and... “Canadian Tea Bags.”
He was frustrated by the clutter and got the idea of having a yard sale. Then he thought about kids looking through his stacks of porn DVDs and realized that could lead to him going to jail.
He carefully held a bag of frozen corn over his injured genitals as he flipped through the channels on TV.
A door opened. Marla, a young newcomer to the porn industry, rushed out of the spare bedroom holding a stuffed duffle bag. She froze when she saw Jerry.
“I thought you were still in bed,” said Marla.
“No,” said Jerry.
Marla resumed moving toward the door.
“Hey, where are you going?” asked Jerry.
“I shouldn't intrude any longer,” said Marla, anxiously. “It's been a blast but...the week's getting late and...”
“And what?” asked Jerry. “What's your rush?”
“It's been fun, Jerry,” said Marla. “Nice working with you and thanks for letting me crash here for so long.”
“Call me! said Jerry. “I'll get you into a party! Carrot Top's birthday is coming up. A lot of people will be there!”
“Sweet,” said Marla. “Who's Carrot Top?”
“Never mind,” said Jerry.
“Okay, I'll see you around,” said Marla before shutting the door behind her.
Later that afternoon, Jerry decided to take a walk to a nearby taco stand that he frequented.
He was happy to get outside but it was noisy. There were two news helicopters hovering not far away.
Great, who got murdered now, wondered Jerry.
He managed the two block walk to the taco stand where the owner told him there was no charge for his meal. Jerry was a regular customer but this had never happened before.
The tacos were a nutritious meal relative to cake and Jerry started to feel a lot better.
As he continued walking, he noticed the helicopters were closer to him now than they were before.
If I start having paranoid ideas, it's over for me, he thought.
He decided to stop feeling sorry for himself and spend the rest of the afternoon at the beach. He thought the fresh air would do his penis good.
When the Uber picked him up, the driver immediately recognized Jerry.
“Holy cow, you're Jerry Balls,” said the driver who had eighteen tree-shaped air fresheners hanging from his mirror.
“How you doing,” said Jerry. “I'll show you where to drop me by the pier.”
“Man, you are one famous guy,” said the driver.
“Do you watch my films?” asked Jerry, fishing for an ego boost that he needed more today than most days.
“Nope,” said the driver. “I try not to watch that stuff, it's gets me in trouble with my wife and I don't need that.”
“That's too bad,” said Jerry.
“Man, I can't believe I'm going to be on TV,” said the driver. “I've never been on TV before!”
Jerry was perplexed.
“You realize I'm not always on TV right?” asked Jerry. “We're not on TV now.”
“Sure we are,” said the driver.
He opened his window and waved his hand towards the sky.
“Are you waving at the news helicopters?” asked Jerry.
“You want me to lose the copters in a parking garage?” asked the driver. “I can.”
“They're not following me,” said Jerry. “I didn't murder anyone.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” said the driver. “And sorry about your ding-dong. That shit is awful.”
“What?” asked Jerry. “How did you know about that?”
“It's everywhere,” said the driver. “Instagram, Facebook, radio, local TV, national TV, SnapChat, WhatsApp, Four Chan, Reddit, PBS, Telemundo, you name it. Even the preacher shows are talking about it! They're praying for you, Jerry.”
“What?” said Jerry.
“Honestly, every man in the world is scared to have sex now,” said the driver. “They had an expert on CNN last night saying the population is going to drop because of you.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Jerry.
“Like I said, it's all over the internet and TV,” said the driver. “Fox News said Bill Gates was behind it and everyone needs to watch out.”
“That makes no sense,” said Jerry.
“No man, TMZ had the picture yesterday morning,” said the driver. “It's everywhere, I'm surprised it's not on bill boards.”
“What picture?” asked Jerry.
“Your broken who-ha!” said the driver.
Jerry rolled his eyes.
“Was there a nurse in it giving a thumbs up?” asked Jerry.
“Yeah that's the one! Is there a better one?” asked the driver. “Because that one was pretty graphic. Guys were like 'I'm never having sex again!'”
“Oh brother,” said Jerry.
They arrived at the beach twenty minutes later and Jerry got out. So did the driver.
“What are you doing?” asked Jerry.
“Shake my hand,” said the driver, offering his hand. He arched his head up to the sky. The helicopters were now over the beach.
“My wife texted. We're on the five o'clock news,” said the driver who smiled cartoonishly at the sky.
“Hi, Louisa!” said the driver.
Jerry walked away. “They can't hear you,” said Jerry.
He went looking for a bathroom inside a building that housed restaurants.
Going pee was a delicate procedure, one that he now had to execute carefully. He stood at the urinal and cautiously proceeded.
There was a young man with long blonde hair standing at the stall next to him.
Jerry noticed him staring. The man seemed concerned.
“Hey,” said Jerry.
“Dude, what are you going to do?” said the man.
“I'm going to try to pee,” said Jerry.
“I mean about your balls,” said the man. “They're so big. What's going to happen to them if you can't use them?”
“Don't worry,” said Jerry.
“Your Uber ride was on the evening news just now,” said the man. “They were showing it in the bar upstairs and then next thing I know you're standing next to me taking a piss.”
“Are you serious?” asked Jerry.
“One hundred percent!” said the man. “They had a coworker of yours on. They asked them if you were a big Uber tipper.”
“It wasn't a car chase,” said Jerry.
“It was dramatic,” said the man. “They said you might have diarrhea from the tacos.”
“Who said that?” asked Jerry.
“Don't know,” said the man. “I think they had your high school English teacher on at one point?”
“And they call my business perverse,” said Jerry.
“You know that Uber driver totally blew the stop sign on Wilshire,” said the man. “You should rate him accordingly, dude.”
Jerry aborted his attempt at urination and hurried up the stairs to the bar.
He entered the crowded pub to find everyone watching the local news on the TVs. They were showing an areal shot of the building he was in.
“Hey it's the guy with the penis,” someone yelled while pointing at Jerry.
Everyone in the room started quietly applauding, like when a football player with a horrific injury is hauled off the field strapped to a board.
“Oh my god it's bleeding,” screamed a woman who had one hand over her mouth and the other pointing towards Jerry's groin.
Jerry looked down to see a wet spot on his sweat pants. He realized he must have leaked some pee, something his doctor warned could happen.
Jerry was left with no choice but to go back to the bathroom and aim his crotch at the hand dryer until the stain was gone. I can't let the helicopters hone in on that, he thought.
Jerry walked down the boardwalk and looked for the nearest tree to hide under as the helicopters droned high in the sky above.
He leaned against a tree and, for the first time in days, turned on his phone. He had been avoiding the world since he get out of the hospital and that was a mistake.
Not only was his voice mail full, he had received countless text message from people he knew and many he didn't.
He phoned his manager, Marty.
“Jerry!” shouted Marty on the other end. “Thank god! Vegas had you down to one in five!”
“One in five what?” asked Jerry.
“One in five that you were dead,” said Marty. “I've been refreshing TMZ every thirty seconds to see if it was true.”
“I don't understand,” said Jerry.
“I've got to cancel my bet,” said Marty.
“Excuse me?” asked Jerry.
“Hey, did you hear about Taylor Swift?” said Marty. “She retweeted an article about your ding-a-ling! The Internet blew up.”
“No kidding. Maybe she'll write a song about it,” said Jerry sarcastically.
“Jerry, you're the It Boy right now,” said Marty. “You're the child who fell down a well. The whole world wants to know if you killed yourself or if your penis fell off, or what have you.
“This is a nightmare,” said Jerry.
“Nightmare?” said Marty. “What are you talking about? Your Star Rating on IMDb cracked the top ten this morning! Peter Dinklidge was bumped to number eleven, Jerry. Eleven!”
“Not worth breaking my penis for,” said Jerry.
“Wait!” said Marty. “Jerry are you under a tree right now?”
“Yes,” said Jerry. “How did you know?”
“Well they can still see you. Let me flip to another channel. Yup, this one's even better. The cameras on these things are getting crazy good!”
“Wonderful,” said Jerry. He gave the helicopters the double finger.
“Did you spill something on your pants?” asked Marty.
“Not exactly,” said Jerry. “I want to go home, Marty. What should I do?”
“Let me think,” said Marty.
A middle-aged couple approached Jerry with big smiles.
“Jerry Balls! The Opossum of Porn! How are you, sir?” said the man, reaching out his hand.
“Not the greatest,” said Jerry. “Do you want me to sign your wife?”
“That would be fantastic,” said the man.
“We own all your sex toys,” said the woman. “I have a really small vagina.”
“Congratulations,” said Jerry.
“Who are you talking to?” asked Marty over the phone. “Whose the woman with the small vagina?”
“Just a couple fans,” said Jerry.
“Put that woman on the phone,” said Marty.
“Why?” asked Jerry.
“Just put her on!” Marty shouted. “I've got an idea.”
Jerry handed the woman his phone. “My manager wants to talk to you,” he said.
The woman took the phone and held it up to her ear.
“I see,” said the woman. “Uh huh. You want me to what now? Okay. And I get to be in a Jerry video?”
The woman handed the phone back to Jerry. She got down on her knees in front of him.
“He wants me to pretend I'm giving you a BJ,” said the woman. “I guess you can't have blow jobs on the evening news.”
“Marty, what are you doing?” said Jerry into his phone.
“I've got to get a picture of this,” said the man.
The woman placed her head in an obscene position in front of Jerry's groin then looked up at him.
“Did you pee yourself?” the woman asked Jerry.
“Yes,” sighed Jerry.
Sure enough, the helicopters started to leave.
“It's working!” cried Marty. “They've cut to a pile-up on the I5!”
“Great,” said Jerry, relieved.
“Jesus, there's a man on fire running from the scene,” said Marty. “I can't believe they thought you were more interesting than this.”
“You can get up now,” Jerry said to the woman. “Thank you for your service.”
“Get in a cab and meet me at my office,” said Marty.
“Okay,” said Jerry.
He signed the woman's cleavage with a Sharpie borrowed off a hot dog vendor and headed across town to see Marty.
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