There's a letter for you.
The Good Lady said as I arrived home from work.
For me? Probably some credit card pish.
I dismissed the idea of an actual letter with something actually worthwhile in it with a chop of the hand as if I were fighting night ninjas again.
It's not some credit card nonsense....
The Good Lady said flatly.
The tone of her voice made me look up. She sounded odd.
I wondered what could be up with her, had she been scratching her midnight cowboy and suddenly remembered what sex was like?
It's from America?
She said with what can only be described as an if you're having an affair with an American I will cut your balls off type of look.
America?
I racked my brains. I had heard of the Americas, of course. Who hadn't?
But what did America want with me?
I went over to the table and gingerly picked up the letter in question. There was no doubt about it. It was from America.
Had my Black-Ops days come back to haunt me?
Gently I teased it open. There was something hard inside. Something metal? Surely it wasn't a gun, it was too small?
The hard something slipped into my hand.
Cock and balls!!
I yodeled in delight.
Daddy-Bear, language!?!
Yodeled the Good Lady in return, cupping her hands over a sensitive Little Boom's ears.
No really, it's a cock and balls neck thing. Look!
I showed her the cock and balls in all its steampunk glory. It's origins hailed from here when I had first described the Good Lady and her friend's penchant for jewelry celebrating the feminine form.
Why shouldn't I celebrate the potent symbol of man, I had thought.
And then the most splendid 
And thus, a few steemies for postage later, it came!
I am complete and have worn it ever since.
Awesomes. I bloody love Steemit! (Yeah, that's right, I said Steemit. Get that up you, steem purists!)