Episode 5: "Jerry Sends Taylor Swift a Cat"
Jerry arrives to meet his porn agent Marty only to be met by Marsha, a publicist who fixes problems for elites. She comes up with a plan to shape Jerry's precarious image. First she sends Taylor Swift a kitten to thank her for the attention she brought Jerry. Then Jerry goes on CNN to talk to Anderson Cooper while pretending to be something he isn't.
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Jerry's penis felt like it was cut off and sewn back on so he took one of his last prescription pain killers.
He was in the back seat of a cab driving across town as the sun set over L.A. The internet had blown up over a photo of his post-op penis and Jerry's manager Marty had summoned him to his office to strategize.
The leaked photo was so frightening it was reported that men the world over were hesitant to have sex. They reasoned that if a porn star, a professional user of a penis, could break his penis, so could they.
The doctors told Jerry his penis might not work properly ever again.
Even though he was hired to act in porn because of his gigantic balls, he was expected to have intercourse on camera with his unremarkable, now broken, penis. But he felt he deserved more resepect.
He was proud that the L.A. Times had once called him a '”D-List Celebrity.” That made him feel like he was more than a piece of meat with giant balls.
His prolific career began in the late 80s and occasionally crossed over into mainstream media. He was currently featured on several episodes of the basic cable show So You Think You Have Self-Esteem?
But Jerry's income mostly came from porn and he needed to find ways to make money doing other things if his penis didn't come back to life.
Today he found himself somewhere between a laughing stock, caught on live TV having peed his pants, and a rising pop culture star due to his highly personal injury having gone viral.
The majority of living and breathing men in North America had watched Jerry using his penis in intercourse at least once on everything from VHS to VR. If they didn't know about him before the injury, they did now.
Jerry picked up a newspaper from the floor of the cab. The headline at the bottom read, “Photo of Porn Star's Mangled Manhood Causes Mass Male malaise and included a small photo of Jerry's smiling face from the nineties.
He recognized it from a testicular cancer awareness PSA he appeared in and was happy how thin he looked. In tiny print underneath it read, “Photo provided by Marty Stewart.”
Thanks, Marty, Jerry fondly thought.
When Jerry's cab arrived in front of Marty's office a woman was waiting. She knocked on the window and handed the driver cash.
Jerry got out and the woman gave him an umbrella. “This is for you,” she said.
“It's not raining,” said Jerry.
“It's raining helicopters and paparazzi,” she said. “Open it and walk with me.”
Jerry peaked at the sky before opening the umbrella.
“I'm Marsha Heard from Heard Immunity. I've been hired to handle you.”
“Where's Marty?” asked Jerry.
“I sent him home,” said Marsha. “His office only fits two people.”
They entered the tiny windowless office and Marsha sat behind Marty's cluttered desk.
“Don't sit down,” said Marsha. “We're going to take a photo of your junk before we get started.”
“No,” said Jerry.
“Let me be clear,” said Marsha. “No is not an option this evening. You say yes to everything I say. We have precious little time.”
“What do you do exactly?” asked Jerry.
“I get high profile people through crises,” she said.
Jerry noticed a young man was holding a professional camera with a ring flash on it.
“Let's get this over with,” said Jerry. He dropped his pants for the photograph and held his flab back the best he could.
“Excellent,” said Marsha. “Jarell is going to go back to his office and Photoshop your dick to look 25% healthier. Then we're going to leak the photo to show you're getting better.”
“Can you make it 10% bigger?” asked Jerry.
“I could do that,” said Jarell.
“Not a terrible idea,” said Marsha. “We want to give people as much hope as possible.”
“How about 20%?” asked Jerry.
“No,” said Marsha. Then she asked, “Do you like cats?”
“I like pussy,” Jerry quipped.
There was awkward silence as she glared at him.
“Well pussy don't like you,” said Marsha. “Women hate you because their boyfriends are too afraid to commit to intercourse. Plus you're a gross, creepy man who goes around saying he likes pussy.”
“I'm losing enthusiasm,” said Jerry. “I want to call Marty.”
“You've got a brief opportunity here to shape your image before you become a permanent joke,” said Marsha.
“Marty's worried,” said Jerry. “But I think if I just give my penis some bed rest I can get back to work in a couple months or something.”
“You're turning fifty next year,” said Marsha. “You're out of shape and far too hairy for someone who isn't Greek.
“The only demographic who is attracted to you is gay guys with bear fetishes. How long do you think you're going to act in pornos?”
“They have grandpa porn now,” said Jerry. “I could do that in my sunset years.”
“Oh God, people are sick,” said Marsha.
“That's what I know and you don't,” said Jerry. “I know all about how sick people are. I can come back from this.”
“Fine, but cards on the table, it's not you're porn career that I'm here for,” said Marsha. “That's why Marty let me in the door but it's not why I'm here.”
“Why are you here?” asked Jerry.
“Let me ask you a question. I want to see how smart you are,” said Marsha. “Do you actually think Marty can afford me?”
“He's been known to spend money every twenty years or so,” said Jerry.
“Nope,” said Marsha. “He can't even afford to buy me lunch where I eat. I'll make more money for this than Marty makes in a decade.”
“Who paid for you? You must be good,” said Jerry.
“I am,” said Marsha. “Did you know Quentin Tarantino stopped his Porsche on the 101 and took a dump in public last Sunday?”
“No,” said Jerry.
“That's why I'm the most expensive fixer on the West Coast,” said Marsha.
“What did he use to wipe his ass?” asked Jerry.
“Basically his car,” said Marsha. “I had it burned and crushed.
“I would have taken a shit-stained Porsche,” said Jerry.
“I wasn't offering,” said Marsha.
“Who's paying the tab for me?” asked Jerry.
“I can't tell you or I'd have to kill you as the saying goes,” said Marsha. “But in reality someone would kill me first because this is bigger than porn, Kiddo. You've got every man in the world frightened to fuck.”
“I don't blame them,” said Jerry. “This hasn't been anything but a nightmare. Talking to you is a nightmare.”
“There are some powerful people who want this fixed,” said Marsha.
“Global elitists?” asked Jerry.
“Sure,” said Marsha.
“Baby eaters?” asked Jerry.
“Never been in the same room,” said Marsha. “But if I had a baby, I wouldn't get them to babysit, if that's what you're asking.”
“Okay,” said Jerry. “What am I going to do?”
“We're going to send Taylor Swift a cat! A kitten to be specific.”
“Why?” asked Jerry.
“As a thank you for her support,” said Marsha.
“Because she blew this whole thing up on Twitter?” asked Jerry. “This is mostly her fault.”
“Everything bad that happens to men is her fault. I grew up on her music,” said Marsha. “But we're going to turn it against her.” Marsha picked up the phone and said, “Bring it in.”
A woman opened the side door and entered with a cardboard box with something alive inside.
“It's got a tag on it that says 'Annie Mae',” said Marsha. “We hacked into her online accounts and found that was her names for her favourite stuffed animals when she was a kid.
“You're scaring me,” said Jerry.
“Hopefully she'll keep the kitten and Insta the shit out of it,” said Marsha. “All of which makes you look like an innocent sweetheart instead of a horny tree rodent who pees his pants.”
“I met her once, you know,” said Jerry. “At the Teen Choice Awards like ten years ago. I glued her broken heal for her.”
“Okay, two questions,” said Marsha. “First one: Why did you have glue at the Teen Choice Awards?”
“Well...” said Jerry.”
“No, scratch that,” said Marsha. “First question is, 'Why were at the Teen Choice Awards?'”
“David Spade used to hang out with me and he was hosting this one time,” said Jerry. “He thought it'd be funny if the cameras cut to a porn star in the audience.”
“What happened?” asked Marsha.
“They never asked him back,” said Jerry. “He was kinda bummed about it because he really likes teens.”
“Oh God, just because he's tiny doesn't mean he's fooling anyone. And the glue?” asked Marsha. “I'm going to assume you were sniffing?”
“No,” said Jerry. “I was playing a repairman in a scene earlier in the day and I grabbed the glue out of the tool belt to fix my toothbrush at home.”
“Tell me you didn't sleep with a teen that night,” said Marsha.
“Never,” said Jerry. “But Kelly Clarkson flirted with me. She got drunk and told me she's really into balls.”
“Good information,” said Marsha. “Did she roll with you? Because it would really make you look human if Clarkson had a thing for you.”
“No,” said Jerry. “Nothing ever happened but I can tell no one else in that room had bigger balls than me.”
“Sign the card,” said Marsha, reading her phone. “Stroke of luck. Taylor happens to be in Anaheim. Probably messing around with some piece of ass so she can come up with a new album.”
Jerry signed the card. The woman took the kitten away as it growled inside the box.
Marsha turned her laptop around to face Jerry. “Jarell is done the Photoshopping.”
Jerry looked and said, “That's amazing. I like it ten percent bigger!”
“Okay, I'm leaking this to TMZ,” said Marsha. She typed on the computer. “I'm going to tell them the doctor says by this time next week you'll be pitching tents at the slightest breeze.”
“That'd be fantastic,” said Jerry. “I can't wait to get an erection again.”
“I'm not a doctor,” said Marsha. “I'm a professional liar. I don't know anything about the health of your wang.”
Marsha turned to the 12 inch TV on the filing cabinet. Jerry's picture was on the CNN. She grabbed the remote and turned on the sound.
“We'll have a penis surgeon on later in the program to discuss the odds of this happening to you or your partner,” said host Anderson Cooper.
Marsha picked up the phone. “Get me the number for CNN master control in New York,” she said.
“What are you doing?” asked Jerry.
“I'm going to get you on the blower with Anderson Cooper,” she said.
“You're going to tell him you got a semi when a bus drove by with a picture of Kelly Clarkson on it.
“That'll kill two birds with one stone. I don't care if she's married. If she's got a ball fetish, lets wake it up.”
Four minutes later, Jerry was live on Anderson Cooper's show via telephone.
Marsha had written bullet points on a big white board that read:
- talk loud because you're at a weird party looking for love
- Don't say “pussy,” “fuck,” “cum,” “blow job,” “anal” or “Nazi”
- compliment Anderson's eyelashes
“Never been better,” said Jerry. “I'm at a party.”
Marsha played thumping dance music from her phone.
“Really?“ asked Anderson. “What kind of party?”
Marsha whispered, “a dirty party” but Jerry misheard.
“A furry party,” said Jerry.
“Really?” chuckled Anderson, knowingly. “What's your animal personality? The opossum because you're the 'Opossum of Porn'?”
Marsha wrote 'cat' on the white board and circled it and Taylor Swift's name.
“No,” said Jerry. “I'm a cat. It's a long story but I'm a cat. A very masculine cat. There are male cats, you know.”
Marsha gave Jerry the thumbs up.
“Without being too graphic, can you tell me about the moment it broke?” asked Anderson.
“Well I was having a nap on set during intercourse, which was a total mistake,” said Jerry. “But I was having a hot dream and--”
“Was it about Kelly Clarkson?” asked Anderson.
Marsha vigorously nodded 'yes' to Jerry.
“Uh, yeah,” said Jerry.
“TMZ is reporting you got a—a partial erection when a bus drove by with her on the side. Is this true?”
“TMZ is totally correct on this matter,” said Jerry.
“The reason why I ask is a lot of men are worried,” said Anderson.
Jerry didn't know how to respond. Marsha glared at him to talk.
Jerry blurted out, “When it broke you could hear it.”
“Oh dear God. Can you elaborate?” asked Anderson.
“Do you remember Joe Namath?” asked Jerry.
“Please God no,” said Anderson. He stood up from his desk and crossed his legs before catching himself and sitting back down.
“People have been asking me about the position you were in,” said Anderson.
“Uh, on my back,” said Jerry.
“Sex position, I think they mean,” said Anderson.
“Oh!” said Jerry. “Reverse cowgirl. Can you say that on CNN?”
Another thumbs up from Marsha who drew a picture of a nun, circled it and pointed to Jerry.
“I really like nuns,” said Jerry.
Marsha slapped Jerry on the side of his head.
“Really?” asked Anderson. “We'll be back with more of adult film icon Jerry Balls after the break and ask him what it is about nuns that interests him sexually.”
The commercial started. “You're the nun!” shouted Marsha. “You're the nun!”
“Sorry,” said Jerry.
“This isn't a total disaster but I need you to have a Disney attitude. If he asks you about sex, say 'oh shucks.'”
“I'll try,” said Jerry.
“And run away from the nuns thing.”
“Got it,” said Jerry. “Hey, why did Tarantino shit on the highway?”
“Everyone, shits,” said Marsha. “It was a nice Porsche, too. Bloody shame.”
A woman on the phone counted down from ten.
“We're back with Jerry Balls, the adult film actor who fell asleep on the job and paid the ultimate price,” said Anderson. “Jerry, Taylor Swift just posted an Instagram photo of a cat you gave her. What's the story behind that?”
“Does she like it?” asked Jerry.
“Uh, I think so,” said Anderson. “She plans to keep it.”
An enthusiastic thumbs up from Marsha.
“Do you have a message for all the men out there who are afraid right now?” asked Anderson.
“Of Taylor Swift?” asked Jerry.
“No,” said Anderson. “Not of Taylor Swift. Of being apprehensive because of what happened to you.”
Marsha shot Jerry an encouraging look.
“Yes,” said Jerry. “I want everyone to know that sex is a fun and enjoyable activity.”
“I think they know that,” said Anderson.
“Well, I guess you do have to be careful,” said Jerry. “Just try to pay attention whenever possible would be my advice.”
“Do you recommend skipping the sex position where you got injured?” asked Anderson.
“Yes,” said Jerry. “The reverse cowgirl is dead to me. I'm not really fond of that side of a woman anyway.”
“Maybe your coworkers would prefer not to look at you,” said Anderson then he held up a paper.
“I've just been told Taylor Swift has released a statement on Instagram,” he said. “She's offering to pay for counselling for you.”
“Counselling?” asked Jerry.
“She says she knows you spent three days in bed eating frozen Pepperidge Farm cake,” said Anderson. “I guess she's done the same at several points in her life.”
“That's nice,” said Jerry. “But I think I'll be okay.”
Marsha waved her arms in the air shaking her head. She wrote, 'not ok' on the white board.
“Was the cake a call for help?” asked Anderson.
“Uh, yes, absolutely,” said Jerry. “I'll could use the counselling.”
Marsha was ecstatic.
“We've all been there,” said Anderson. “I hope to talk to you again, Mr. Balls. Good luck with your recovery.”
Then Anderson read out the national suicide hot line number and the phone went dead.
“Jerry, that was genius,” said Marsha. “Getting Taylor Swift to pay for your therapy is beyond my wildest dreams!”
“What just happened?” asked Jerry.
Marsha looked at her phone.
“Marty says he's got offers coming in!” said Marsha. “Nightline, CBS morning news, KTLA, Howard Stern, of course. You play your cards right at counselling I'll get your ass on Ellen. You can dance your balls around and cry on her lap. We're talking B-list, Jerry!”
“That would be awesome,” said Jerry. “Do you think Ellen's into balls?” asked Jerry.
“No,” said Marsha.
A man entered the room with stack of clothes and an adult diaper.
Marsha held up a t-shirt to Jerry. It had an eggplant emoji and the hashtag '#JerrysBack' written on it.
“Put on the diaper,” said Marsha. “Not only are they not noticeable, they make your ass look like a hundred bucks. These are the latest in adult diapers. They aren't even commercially available yet. When they are, old people are going to get insanely horny for each other.”
“Is the diaper necessary?” asked Jerry.
“I've put up with the smell of urine in here for the last half hour so I would say yes,” said Marsha. “After you're done, I have a car waiting for you outside.
“It's going to stop at a night club and so you can pose for selfies with college-aged simpletons. Don't worry, they'll flock to you. Just look like you're having fun. And make sure they use the hashtag!”
“Okay,” said Jerry. “Plus it's on the shirt.”
“That-a-boy! There's a flame burning in there somewhere,” said Marsha. “I've arranged for free drinks for the entire place. And this is the important part: Tell all the kids it's safe to fuck.”
“I will,” said Jerry, putting on the diaper in front of Marsha.
“Don't forget your umbrella,” said Marsha.
Jerry finished putting on the clothes and left for the waiting car while trying to get a look at his ass in the diaper.
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