Sirius Black stood before the mirror. Oh, what a vain and wonderous man is he who stands in such a wanton manner. To stand before the looking glass and gaze, sans modesty, sans humility, sans all-that-good-stuff, at his pendulous and preponderate tallywhacker. "My kingdom for trousers!" one would never hear him cry. And who amongst you would act flabbergasted at that? Whether ye answer or no, behold your iniquities! The man you see in front of the mirror needs no approval. He is master of his fate...and his dong. Truly, veritably, honestly, and without lies, slander, or doubt, Sirius' cock was one for the ages, and its age did little to mar its fullness.

"What ho!" he cried. "That hoe? This hoe? Any hoe! I can have my pick, for I am Sirius Black, possessor of the ultimate prick!"

Not one for boasting, nor one for passing opportunity, Sirius added, "Great snakes live not only in Slytherin!"

Alack, no response, for the hollow halls remained so, bereft of life besides this Black's cock. Black without black, yet the ladies always harken back.

But lo! From whence does this phantom voice emanate?! "Sirius! Lord of he Lizzard!" it shouts. "Sahib of the Sausage! Hear my tale!"

Out from the shadows slithered forth a serpent's serpent that spoke without a mouth. Huge and unwieldy, yet humbling to behold! Cocksure Sirius felt his blood rush harder, and his hardness rush away.

"Wonder not, sovereign sire," said the serpent, "at my speech. It is just one of those things. But tell me! Into what mirror do you gaze so proudly?"

"The mirror of truth," said Sirius with smug satisfaction, "as all mirrors are but light reflected, and what is light but truth? Bright enough to speak yet dim enough to ask such a silly question."

Retorted the serpent:: "Eat from this Apple of Knowledge-the mirror before you is the Mirror of Erised! The mirror that reflects not what is ours, but the wishes that are ours. Oh, my multitudinous serpent hearts break for you, beguiled man-child!"

Then Sirius braved a look at his under bits, the uber to his mensch. His salty plateau, unaided by the mirror's shine, now looked like the barren plains of ego's defeat. Sirius had trouble understanding it himself. "Then...then...it was but illusion?"

"All is but illusion," spake the serpent as it sidled and sidewinded back to recesses of the nocturnal embrace, "The wise know only that they know nothing. And now that you know, why, you are nothing."

"It is my everything that is nothing. My pride; my glory. All housed in one scrotacular sepulcher, now chopped down by the cutting edge of truth." Sirius wept, then swooned, then did both, then all three.

And so let us depart, for the tableau of this fallen hero is all played out. Gently now he weeps, his only companion in the penumbra of silence the flaccid, undeniably real pee-pee.

A.N. On a cold winter night two friends with little else to do come up with this razmataz. A true coalition of minds. Like minded fellows with like minded ideas.

Ol' Bob and I wrote this for your enjoyment.