"I can't believe I'm actually going to do this," thought Gyp.
Sure, Gyp had done plenty of awful things to finance her drug habits, but she couldn't remember an evening she dreaded as much as this one. She had promised him months ago—in exchange for a much-needed loan—that she'd go to his party if the Cubs ever made it to the World Series, but she'd hoped that Mr. Erection wouldn't actually hold her to it. He did, and Gyp was supposed to meet Daniel there in a little less than an hour.
Gyp was upset for a number of reasons. It wasn't just baseball that she disliked, but also Mr. Erection himself: His nauseating fixation on baseball statistics, rare sports collectibles, and his own erect penis reminded her of her grandfather at his worst. They'd never been introduced, but Gyp could easily imagine her grandpa and Mr. Erection getting on like the best of friends. And since Gyp had no interest in talking about the Cubs, Cubs fans, or Cubs fans' genitals, she'd made a habit of dealing with people like this only when she desperately needed help—which right now she did. Tsang had given her 24 hours to come up with the money.
She had seen her grandpa earlier in the day, but he was in no condition to write her a check. And even if he was, he wouldn't. Mentally unfit as he was, Grandpa knew Gyp hated him, and he wasn't about to pay her for it. Mr. Erection, on the other hand, never sensed Gyp's hatred (though she'd never tried much to conceal it), and Gyp took advantage of this. In times of need, she would ask him for loans, and Mr. Erection—a lawyer with nothing to spend money on but cheap beer and baseball memorabilia—would usually be willing to help. Still, Gyp hated seeing him, and she hated lowering her self to ask him. She knew that tonight would be miserable.
At least she'd be going with a date who'd always expressed a similar disdain for baseball. Brant was going to pick her up shortly. He had no interest in talking to her about baseball, and even less interest in discussing his genitals.
The excruciating burning sensation could do nothing to wipe the jittery smile from across his face. Mr. Erection would never let anything get in the way of his enjoyment of this great day—not even the flaming-hot red piss that the doctor couldn't help him with. He zipped up and savored the moment.
This is the day that Mr. Erection had lived for. The Chicago Cubs in the World Series. And if that weren't enough, Mr. Erection had more to be excited about. He had won a charity raffle some weeks back at the Cubby Bear sports bar, and tonight he would receive his prize: an in-the-flesh visit from Mr. Erection's all-time favorite pre-Kotsay Cub. Yes, Ron Santo, the great third baseman, had agreed to attend his party.
Mr. Erection had finished the party preparations weeks ago. The lights and streamers were up, the Ronnie "Woo Woo" cassette was in the stereo, and the red-and-blue "We Love You, Ron" sign hung perfectly from the window frame. Plenty of Old Style was chilled, and the new life-size inflatable Mark Kotsay replica (Mr. Erection's latest and greatest eBay purchase) stood near the front door. All that was left to do was wait for the first guests to arrive...