Once upon a time, there was a young man named C.C.

Only, he wasn't really named C.C.; that was just what everyone called him. His real name was Charles Chester, but that wasn't what C.C. stood for.

No -- he earned that nickname early in life, not long after the neighborhood girls roped him into one of those catty childhood games of "show me yours, and I'll promise to show you mine but won't ever get around to it because I'm too busy making fun of yours."

C.C.'s codger, especially when erect, curved upward. It was much more pronounced than the slight cases seen in other men. It was more curved than a banana, less than the trunk of an elephant when it is showering itself with water. It was a crescent. A curl. It was, in fact, shaped very much like the letter C itself.