I am sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office, about 30 seconds away from diving through that plate-glass window for fear of the dreaded penis exam. Oh this visit started out innocent enough... just a simple medical clearance to go to the gym. But in the meantime, I developed a rather unmentionable problem. Being the naive subject i am, i look up the treatment on the Internet.

And that's where I find the Penis Exam.

Basically what it consists of is shoving a Q-tip up your urethra 3/4 of an inch and rotating the blasted thing. As if this were somehow not enough they yank the damned thing back out.

Common side effects include minor discomfort (not unlike having a minor portion of your eyeball removed) and passing out. It seems there is a nerve in your wang that, when hit, makes you pass out. Now one can obviously see the benefits of having such a device, but I, for one plan on passing out long before the nerve is hit. "You may experience some minor discomfort," the doctor will note. "Thud," my now quite lifeless body will interject as I fall face first into the nearest sharps container.

Of course let it be known that nobody has -actually- said that this test will be performed. But that's certainly not consoling the "time to freak the hell out" portion of my brain. A portion, it seems, that appears to be doubling in size every second. It will soon escape the confines of my skull and run off to terrorize the city. Of course it will be my responsibility to chase after and subdue it, which may cause me to miss this doctor's appointment.