Greek Statue Self-Conscious About the Size of His Penis

Come on! How about a little artistic license?

Come on! How about a little artistic license?

A Greek statue, tired of jokes being made about his penis, has decided to wear boxer shorts from now on.

“I mean look at me” said the distraught statue.

It’s bad enough I have no chest hair but what about down there you know? My thumb is bigger! I kept telling the sculptor that’s now my real size. Make it bigger! And I have chest hair!  What am I? An Olympic swimmer? He just laughed at me and said he was complementing me and that my small penis means I represented the best in the Greek mind. To hell with being respected for my philosophy.  Give me a big one!

The statue has been repeatedly been humiliated by college age girls posing next to him, pointing to his member and laughing for the camera.

The first few times I tried to get into the spirit but come on.  It gets old very quickly. I also get tired of tourists asking if I’m Chinese or Irish. I’m Greek baby. All Greek. We Greek men are notorious lovers.  We started a war over Helen you know. Could the sculptor maybe have put a little of that into me? But no. I’m practically a eunuch.

On one occasion the statue was stolen and placed waist-deep in water with a sign placed around its neck that said “I was in the pool!”

That really hurt. I have never been so humiliated and that’s saying a lot since I’ve been naked for 2000 years letting everyone look at my small penis. So you can see I have a high tolerance for humiliation.

At one point the statue tried augmentation surgery but the results were not to his liking.

First I googled “big penis” which I don’t have to tell you was a mistake. I’ll never do that again and now I’m on a damn porn mailing list. So I found someone on Craigslist who did penis augmentation. First off he didn’t quite match the color correctly. So my penis was two different shades. It looked like the Washington Monument. Eventually the augmented part fell off. More humiliation. Now the girls would take the fallen off part and stick it to my nose.

Vowing that this would be the last straw the Statue decided on covering up.

I couldn’t decide between a tux, a morning suit or something like Crockett and Tubbs would wear on Miami Vice. I tested all three but in the end I wanted the women to see my ripped chest. That’s the one part of me the sculptor got right. I do have nice abs. So I’m wearing boxer shorts. It’s a sexy look. Very Hawaiian. Now I won’t have to put up with the college girls and their pranks anymore. They will respect me.

However not all is going according to the Statue’s plan.

They’ve taken to removing my shorts and putting them over my head. Very funny. Fortunately the museum curators are very nice and always put my shorts back where they belong. It’s not as bad as when they pull them down to my ankles. I hate that.

Asked if he has any regrets the statue mentioned one.

“I wish I had stayed in Pompeii. The statues that got buried under ashes for 2000 years are the lucky ones.”


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