BALK BTW: Hey, what's up?
COCK BTW: Not me! I am DOWN, DOWN, DOWN.
BALK BTW: Oh no, what's wrong?
COCK BTW: The MacArthur genius grants came out today, and ONCE AGAIN I'm not on the list.
BALK BTW: Did you really expect to be?
COCK BTW: Every goddamned year! Do you know a brighter Cock than me?
BALK BTW: I don't know that they really give out those awards to cocks.
COCK BTW: Jonathan Franzen got one, and he's a major dick.
BALK BTW: Ba dump bump.
COCK BTW: Okay, that was too easy, but whatever, I'm pissed! I've done some amazing work this year and I deserve to be recognized! And $500k over the next five years? Do you know what kind of damage I could do with that money? I'd be pumping through silk!
BALK BTW: Uh, fine. Let's look at some of the winners. Hmm, soprano Dawn Upshaw. "Her repertory takes in the sacred work of Bach, modern works by Stravinsky and new music by composers like John Harbison."
COCK BTW: So what? Did you hear "My Cock Sings Sondheim"? My a cappella version of "Putting It Together" ALONE deserves that award. Dawn Upshaw can blow me,
BALK BTW: Playwright Lynn Nottage. "The plays of Ms. Nottage, 42, have been produced throughout Europe and the United States, at theaters including Second Stage in New York and the Steppenwolf Theater in Chicago. 'Intimate Apparel,' the story of a young black seamstress in early-20th-century New York, continues to be widely produced in regional theaters."
COCK BTW: BFD. "GlenHairy GlenCock" ran for twenty-seven straight weeks at the Winter Garden, and I played every role for the first three months. And "Schwing Awakening" is STILL being performed at high schools nationwide.
BALK BTW: Stuart Dybek "is the author of three books of fiction, including 'I Sailed With Magellan,' and two collections of poetry. His work has appeared in many publications, including The New Yorker and The Paris Review."
COCK BTW: Whatever. Michiko Kakutani called "The Jane Austen Cock Club" a 'heartbreaking work of, yes, staggering prickness.' My short story collection "What We Talk About When We Talk About Wangs" is widely acknowledged as a pioneer of "cocky realism." And New Yorker poetry? Done it. Check the current issue, page 83. "This shaft winding down now/At cock-speeded summer's end/In the taintlike salmon sun...."
BALK BTW: Okay, okay. There's also an installation artist.
COCK BTW: "If These Balls Could Talk," my homage to anonymous Testicular-Americans, is STILL showing at the Museum of Natural History, and that was made ENTIRELY OUT OF SCRIMSHAW. I'm A COCK, do you know how hard it is to work with scrimshaw?
BALK BTW: Let's see, someone who works in robotics...
COCK BTW: Need I remind you of Cocktron Five? Does dildonics count for nothing?
BALK BTW: I'm sorry, Cock. There's always next year.
COCK BTW: Fuck that. I'm just gonna sit on Your Ass and wait for my Nobel Cock Prize.
BALK BTW: Uh, okay.
COCK BTW: Anyway, I've been meaning to talk to you about your choice of masturbation material lately. That "Meg White" sex tape was unaccep—
BALK BTW: This conversation is over.