Sylvester’s giant erection.
“It took three of use, heaving and panting and sweating to get my erection up,” said Sylvester, my mechanic, sitting at my kitchen table and sipping tea from my finest bone china. Like many of my best friends he just appears in my kitchen sometimes. Like a big sweaty mechanic genie.
“I’m sure it did,” I said sympathetically. “Now, just tell me again, this ‘erection’, what is that again?”