Yuk it up folks, but I have 4 of these badboys that I wear on a constant rotation.  This is no fashion statement, but a catalyst for a cautionary tale that I like to tell to keep our children safe.  This is a bona fide true shark story and not for the faint of heart, so if you are prone to nightmares, hysterics, phobias and such, please stop reading now.

Like most rational people, the actual chances of you getting killed by a shark are very, very low and statistically you are thousands of times more likely to be killed driving to the beach than by any sea creature.  I would say this platitude routinely until the day it literally came back to bite me in the ass.

The year was 2004, and I was swimming off Caswell Beach minding my own business when something struck my leg in the water.  The water was murky so it was difficult to see, but it was whitish and rubbery, the size impossible to say for certain, but quite large and bulky with a generous girth.  I froze, but when it flopped back up and I saw it's ugly head rear from the water I fled.  I don't expect you to believe this, but this great white had a single slit for an eye, and I swear to you there was cold blooded murder reflected in it.

I fled for shore, and a small crowd of onlookers gathered on the beach.  The residents gawked, mouths agape, shocked and intimidated by what they had seen. In a panic I patted myself down for injuries expecting the worst.

To my immense relief I realized my board shorts had become undone in the waves, and what I had mistaken for a great white shark attack turned out to be my great white penis flopping and slapping around in the surf.  I dropped to my knees and thanked the Lord above, both for delivering me from the savage jaws of the ocean's woodchipper, and blessing me with a monster wang bulky enough to be confused with a maneater.

I sprung to my feet for an impromptu victory dance, joyous to be alive, spinning in circles, thwapping my still fully exposed member in a helicopter spin and finishing it off with my trademark flying squirrel/twerk routine that is such a big hit with my many eager ladyfriends.

The crowd that had gathered was not as enthusiastic as you'd think.  Apparently it is bad form to do a semi-naked victory dance on a public beach with families in close proximity.  In my humble opinion, if you are lucky enough to survive an attack by a shark, lion, tiger or bear, all bets are off on how you choose to celebrate it, even if that means confusing and disturbing the child witnesses, seeding lust in the women and shattering the self esteem of the men.

Unfortunately not everyone sees it that way, and instead of being carried off of the beach and cheered like a victorious hero, I had to resort to giving a very brief lecture on shark safety.  I was then turned down repeatedly for petitioned high-fives from my fans, and had to carefully tuck my Great White Shlong back into my boardshorts and hitchhike home with my head held high, knowing all the while that I had looked death in the eye and lived to tell about it.

Now I am no hero and do not want to be treated as such.  I am just a man who was put into a frightening situation and did what I had to do to survive.  So the lesson is this kids:  don't go in the ocean cause there are sharks out there.  Unless of course you are crazy hung like me, in which case you can probably do whatever you want except helicoptoring your penis for public victory dances regardless if it is the perfect timing.

Take care, and be safe yall.