A slightly handsome and diabetic one-arm man with gold studded teeth paced back and forth in his lonely downtown apartment, holding a dead broom. Broom, he said, make love to me. The broom didn’t respond too quickly but finally said, My cunt’s too dry to fuck properly, but if you’d like, I could suck at the nub of your arm and you think about other brooms with wetter straw than I. The one-arm man took the broom up on its offer and as he came, blue and red roses fell from his stump and then the man died and the broom walked away into the streets free once again.