Mister TreeFrog

An explanation about an unfortunate circumstance…
At festival, there is a shower/bath house. This place is out in the woods and you get the occasional critter creeping into the bathroom. Two stalls, two showers, one urinal. Now that the story is set up, here comes the hook.
I walk into the bathroom late one night. I notice there is a person in one of the stalls. I get to the urinal and I unzip. Just then a large tree frog jumps out from behind the pipe and makes its way up the wall. I am feeling loose and maybe a little bit drunk so I say out loud, “Helloooo Mr. Treefrog!” Just then I hear the bathroom door close. I am alone. Whoever it was in the stall never saw the frog. They heard me walk in, unzip and say the words. Someone out there now thinks I have a cute name for my penis and worse than that, thinks I address it by name when I pee.
So rather than let this die out with one person who may be discrete enough to laugh it off and never mention it again, I immediately repeat the story to everyone in my camp. Of course, it is immediately translated into foreign languages and published around the world.
So, if someone tells you that I call my dick, “Mister TreeFrog”, they have only heard half of the story.
“And now you know… the rest, of the story.”