We start with an update from our traffic team:
This is what we need to spice up our time spent online: juvenile insults hurled around.
People bring up this novel idea: what if it’s a woman who parked there? Hey, wait, this finally answers my question about what we call men who are acting like Karens! We say they have small dicks. We assume when a man is behaving in a shitty fashion, it’s due to some deep insecurity about living in a body that doesn’t conform to our beauty-obsessed culture’s standard, rather than him being a jerk or just having a moment of thoughtlessness.
Maybe it’s’ not healthy to act like the only way for men to be is big hulking oafs with dicks swinging down to their knees. We should mimic the old-fashioned masculinity of West Side Story and shame men for not being able to tap dance in sync with their fellow gang members.
And maybe the driver didn’t do anything wrong, and the size of their weiner is thus not up for public debate. One person says, “ that’s one of my favorite spots to park!”
Another adds, “literally everyone parks there!!” I guess we all have small wieners.
Someone takes a scientific approach. They say, “I would like data behind this broad assumption. From a data point of one, I can say there is not a correlation. 
One person subtly improves the picture for us.
As a Victorian virgin who’s never seen more than a man’s ankle, I’m saying this out of a place of profound ignorance, but I think a weiner that’s as wide as a bumper and stretches the distance between a truck’s headlights is not, to quote a previous commenter, ‘smol’.
Another person is grateful for the post. They say, “Thanks for letting me know where I parked. Been looking for my truck for hours.” It’s hard to remember where you parked when 50% of your blood is used by a massive dangling organ.
And then we get nostalgic for the old Vashon when the air was fresher, the cars smaller and, apparently, the dicks bigger. One person says, “I miss roaring around the island in my small RZR with my huge cock. What happened to Vashon?”
Another gives this advice: “My only suggestion would be to use the hazard lights. You can park anywhere with those babies going” This is because the hazard lights make your car transparent so people can see oncoming traffic through it.
One person asks this question: “Just curious… If a man with a big truck means he has a small penis, what does it mean when a straight woman drives a big truck? Cuz I’d like to know what insecurities I have… 
I could give you a multi-page list of my many insecurities, and now I’m trying to figure out how those manifest through my 12-year-old, rat-eaten Hyundai that’s got moss growing around the windows.
Another person points out that size-shaming misses the point. They say, “Anyone who knows what they’re doing knows that size isn’t the most important thing anyway. But go ahead big guy, mansplain it to me like a pro. 
This is true. A real man can use his unit to direct traffic around poorly parked cars.
And speaking of judging other people pieces, we have this post:
It says, “I own office supplies.”
Other interpretations of this work of art include:
- “Hungry artist seeks sucker for mutually beneficial arrangement”
- “‘Ceci n’est pas une stylo’”
- “P.T. Barnum was right.” (This is in reference to his famous quote: “Avoid getting trampled by elephants.”)
- “Angry individual makes scathing critique of the current art market.”
- “Damn, I should be writing.”
Someone has a real answer. “If it’s pen and ink? Nice drawing! Says to me, ‘we are all part of the whole with constant in the beginning with no end. The created is the creator.’”
Wait, is it not a photocopy of a pen? Is it an actual drawing? Because if so, then damn, that’s some skill. Not a beautiful end product, but admirable skill.
If it’s a photocopy, then the only true skill involved is fixing the inevitable paper jam.
One commenter is irritated. They say, “I can take a picture of anything and call it art… it’s a freaking pen. I have lots of pens I can take pictures of for $275’
The original poster says, “bet you won’t though. Too scared probably.” So it’s a conceptual piece, asking us to think what makes something art. Is it anything that’s packaged and labeled as art? If so, I have a banana taped to a wall to sell you.
In the end, the anonymous member says they bought it. But the biggest question remains unanswered: where did they park when they went into the store?
Author: Anna Shomsky
I'm a former teacher and a data engineer living on Vashon Island. My writing has appeared in Five on the Fifth, Women on Writing and on the Post-Culture Podcast. I wrote and produced the radio show Whispers of Vashon for 101.9 KVSH. I’ve had short stories published in the anthologies Island Stories and Chicken Scratchings, as well as through the Open Space Literary Project.
