I have a freckle on my penis. I understand it's relatively normal but it's not something I brag about.

The freckle lies smack-bang in the middle of my shaft. It is a dark brown colour, and it is mostly oval shaped. If you run your fingers over it (cute girls reading this, I highly recommend this activity, for science), then you wouldn't feel it. It is very much a part of my skin. In fact, it's like one tiny part of me, on the shaft of my penis, is brown. I wouldn't go as far to call me African-American, however, as I'm very much white and Australian, but, as a child, it did make me wonder...

Now, my older sister, let's call her Rebecca, is a twin, technically, but her twin died while it was still developing in the womb. So she's not really a twin. But, anyway, Rebecca has a mole on her neck. This mole, my mother used to say, was the undeveloped fetus. My childhood brain believed this to be the case, that, when people died, they'd attach their crumpled and tiny bodies onto other living beings as a slightly unsettling method of attaining immortality, and guide their living host through life. A little bit like a guardian angel.

My grandmother used to work with Indigenous Australians in remote communities in outback Australia. One day while at her house, she decided to go through her photo album. Most of these photos had three things in common - my grandmother, my grandfather, and a black man. I ask my grandmother who the black man is. "That's Robert, dear." "Well how come I've never seen Robert before?" "He's gone." "Gone where?" My grandmother paused for a moment. She wanted to say this delicately to a six-year-old. "He's dead." "Oh" "He died about the same time you were born." I asked my mother about this when I got home, she could confirm.

Now, let's cast our mind back to two paragraphs ago and recall the belief that dead people attached themselves to the living. With this belief in mind, we shall head back to my penis. We should head to the little brown spot on my penis, to be exact. I came to a sudden realisation that night in my bed when I got home. The brown freckle on my penis was a dead person. Robert was also a dead person, who happened to have dark skin. I put two and two together and came to the only logical conclusion: Robert is my phallus-bound guardian angel.

tl;dr a dead man, Robert, inhabits the shaft of my penis as my guardian angel.