The fourth short story in Pills.
I always wanted to write a story about a dude who lost his penis, but every time I wrote it, I could never figure out the ending (if you see what I mean).
As a natural extension from the world I created in Dot Matrix, it worked. Another layer of corporate slime, some useful little characters I could expand upon.
The story’s main character was an amalgamation of the old sexist bastards I had dealt with throughout my time working in offices. Morally void. Nasty. Blames the world for problems they created. You know the type.
I go third person here, which is not my natural default (that’s first person). But I just couldn’t bring myself to delve into the guy’s internal monologue. Also, it worked better if the reader was an observer.
And the ending’s killer.