The Masturbator
I have a hole in the heart that I cannot possibly fill. This realization came to me at a dinner party on June 2, 1962. I have been to a hundred dinner parties over the years where I often sit alone and reevaluate my life as people talk about current events, nuclear war, and other meaningless sorts of things. My life consists of little more than going to dinner parties, playing bridge, sipping wine, and making conversation with ordinary people like myself for the sake of conversation. To fill an uncomfortable void, or for lack of anything better—which is the reason I got married. I am fairly certain that hell is probably an endless dinner party—one from which you don't get to go home—a bottomless glass of merlot—or a marriage to someone you don't love. I also engage in routine masturbation for clarity. It is not sexual at all. It is important to never stop masturbating, I've learned. Once you do, it is all over and you will get old and stupid. I can ejaculate in less than...
