vanish!
Who knows, he may have been right but luckily for us, and clearly luckily for you, my sons, we thought to have a look and validate for ourselves. It was the best damn decision we’ve ever made.”
* * * * *
Chip and Allen sat in silence for quite some time after Alice finished her story. It was a side of their father they didn’t know and in a way it made them lose respect for him. Allen eventually broke the silence.
“So you’re telling us that we’re the result of scrambled balls?”
Alice smiled warmly, “In a manner of speaking, yes you are, my dears.”
“I can’t help thinking that explains a lot,” said Chip quietly.
Alice chuckled and stood up, wiping her hands on her burlap dress.
“Now,” she said, “while you were sleeping, your father and I performed a little procedure that we’re hoping will help you both.”
Chip and Allen stared at each other in fear-laden wonder before unanimously asking, “Whatever did you two cads do to us?”
In one swift movement, Alice ripped the blankets off her pantless sons, whipping lashes into the surrounding walls. A few steps toward the light switch and the room became doused in an ungodly luminescence, which all but drowned out fine detail and dilated pupils in the surrounding suburbs. After a lengthy period of squint-filled adjustment, Allen and Chip glanced toward their crotches and squealed in delight. Secured tightly on each of them was a solitary, blackened ball.
“Your father and I were of the opinion that you both need something down there, even if it wasn’t much. We noticed that you’d attempted to attach Mr Wilkens’ sack to Allen, which was actually quite a good idea but the execution was poor. It was disastrously off-centre and you only used a staple to hold it on. I had your father pop it off with a staple remover and take it to the garage where he was able to jigsaw it in half and weld any splits shut. You’re going to notice flecks of swarf in your discharges but it shouldn’t result in too many aesthetic issues. After your father had finished the preparation I got down between your legs and stitched it on tight as you can get. Those babies aren’t dropping off in a hurry. What do you think?”
Both sons lunged toward their mother and embraced her, tears of joy streaming down their faces. Chip pulled away and wiped snotty strings from his nose and chin.
“They’re going to work like balls should, won’t they?” he asked.
Alice guffawed powerfully, regained her composure and said, “Don’t be daft, of course they wont.”
* * * * *
The demonstration was little more than a day away but for Spencer Wilkens, it was flailing like a packet of seizures. All he could focus on was the image of Tina leaving, struggling with the barrel. He dwelled on every nuance of the confrontation, every word she had said, every word he had said. The look on Tina’s face had burnt itself into his mind, into his psyche. His scrotal stump had not stopped weeping a mucousy slime ever since, not even for a second. Bernice emerged from beneath Mr Wilkens legs and picked an arse hair from her tongue.
“What the hell’s wrong, Mr W? This isn’t like you one iddy bit. You’re normally hollering and air punching when I’m tongue deep up ya but I feel as if I’m chewing out cadaver arse.”
Mr Wilkens furrowed his brow and sighed loudly.
“It’s certainly not you, dear Bernice. I fear I’m headlong involved in a personal crisis, perhaps even a crisis of faith.”
Bernice fetched a chair and placed it adjacent to Mr Wilkens’ slumped body, sitting herself down with coccyx cracking force.
“Okay, spill it. What’s going on?” asked Bernice.
Mr Wilkens coughed up a ball of dead moths and continued.
“It’s Tina. She admitted a rather startling revelation to me yesterday. I finally plucked up the courage to tell her about my scrotum removal and she appeared to lose all signs of sanity. Turns out she loved the damn
Who knows, he may have been right but luckily for us, and clearly luckily for you, my sons, we thought to have a look and validate for ourselves. It was the best damn decision we’ve ever made.”
* * * * *
Chip and Allen sat in silence for quite some time after Alice finished her story. It was a side of their father they didn’t know and in a way it made them lose respect for him. Allen eventually broke the silence.
“So you’re telling us that we’re the result of scrambled balls?”
Alice smiled warmly, “In a manner of speaking, yes you are, my dears.”
“I can’t help thinking that explains a lot,” said Chip quietly.
Alice chuckled and stood up, wiping her hands on her burlap dress.
“Now,” she said, “while you were sleeping, your father and I performed a little procedure that we’re hoping will help you both.”
Chip and Allen stared at each other in fear-laden wonder before unanimously asking, “Whatever did you two cads do to us?”
In one swift movement, Alice ripped the blankets off her pantless sons, whipping lashes into the surrounding walls. A few steps toward the light switch and the room became doused in an ungodly luminescence, which all but drowned out fine detail and dilated pupils in the surrounding suburbs. After a lengthy period of squint-filled adjustment, Allen and Chip glanced toward their crotches and squealed in delight. Secured tightly on each of them was a solitary, blackened ball.
“Your father and I were of the opinion that you both need something down there, even if it wasn’t much. We noticed that you’d attempted to attach Mr Wilkens’ sack to Allen, which was actually quite a good idea but the execution was poor. It was disastrously off-centre and you only used a staple to hold it on. I had your father pop it off with a staple remover and take it to the garage where he was able to jigsaw it in half and weld any splits shut. You’re going to notice flecks of swarf in your discharges but it shouldn’t result in too many aesthetic issues. After your father had finished the preparation I got down between your legs and stitched it on tight as you can get. Those babies aren’t dropping off in a hurry. What do you think?”
Both sons lunged toward their mother and embraced her, tears of joy streaming down their faces. Chip pulled away and wiped snotty strings from his nose and chin.
“They’re going to work like balls should, won’t they?” he asked.
Alice guffawed powerfully, regained her composure and said, “Don’t be daft, of course they wont.”
* * * * *
The demonstration was little more than a day away but for Spencer Wilkens, it was flailing like a packet of seizures. All he could focus on was the image of Tina leaving, struggling with the barrel. He dwelled on every nuance of the confrontation, every word she had said, every word he had said. The look on Tina’s face had burnt itself into his mind, into his psyche. His scrotal stump had not stopped weeping a mucousy slime ever since, not even for a second. Bernice emerged from beneath Mr Wilkens legs and picked an arse hair from her tongue.
“What the hell’s wrong, Mr W? This isn’t like you one iddy bit. You’re normally hollering and air punching when I’m tongue deep up ya but I feel as if I’m chewing out cadaver arse.”
Mr Wilkens furrowed his brow and sighed loudly.
“It’s certainly not you, dear Bernice. I fear I’m headlong involved in a personal crisis, perhaps even a crisis of faith.”
Bernice fetched a chair and placed it adjacent to Mr Wilkens’ slumped body, sitting herself down with coccyx cracking force.
“Okay, spill it. What’s going on?” asked Bernice.
Mr Wilkens coughed up a ball of dead moths and continued.
“It’s Tina. She admitted a rather startling revelation to me yesterday. I finally plucked up the courage to tell her about my scrotum removal and she appeared to lose all signs of sanity. Turns out she loved the damn
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