|The Story||The Authors|
it incidentally happenned it was raining
When this absolutely beautiful young girl scream for him. He had no idea who in the world she was other than she was drop dead gorgous. As she confronted him, She noticed he was not what she had expected. She caught her breathe and introduced herself as Gretchen. She told him that she was to talk to him for a position at his prestigious firm, she had only graduated law school two months earlier, and especially needed a job.
Matthew's testicles warmed at the sight of Gretchen.
"Prestigious....fuh..FIRMMMM...." they whispered to him.
The sprinkler he was lying on gave him a shot in the belly which broke his Gretchen-cleavage-induced trance.
Matthew blinked and looked around. He was lying on the neighbour's lawn, right smack on a sprinkler. And it was raining pretty good, too...
And the eternal question came forth: "What idiot would water their lawn in the rain?"
As Matthew puzzled this one over, Gretchen shifted from foot to foot waiting for his answer.
A job? In his prestigious firm....breasts flashed joyously through his mind....
Another headshake. Matthew was about to tell her that he did not have a firm (breasts..dammit!) when his anus begain to speak....
...Not exactly his anus, but close: Command Central, his prostate gland, the
organ through which his testicles were able to communicate and cooperate. "Job?
Prestigious firm?" puzzled Matthew. "What do these strange words mean, what
foreign tongue are they in?"
"Aren't you the boy who won the summer internship at Cackle, Seidel and Arugula?"
Hickey responded to the question with undisguised amusement, speading his arms in a loose, helplessly bearlike gesture, as if to say, as the French say: regard — sopping wet, skidmarked with grass-green and dirt-brown, even had he not born these proud scars of his encounter with the wet lawn, his clothes were the indiginous garb of the born rocker — jeans that had known much, much better days and a faded memento T-shirt from the fabled 1980 Black Sabbath/Blue Oyster Cult "Black and Blue" tour with the sleeves cut off, and a greasy red bandana tied homeboy-style around his tousled locks — that anyone could mistake the figure he cut for someone destined to spend his summer as a glorified slave in some stuffy law firm with positivelu unthinkable! Is she blind? he wondered.
No, hissed his testicles in response. Don't you recognize that line, you idiot? It's a pick-up line. She adapted it from page 73, paragraph 4 of The Sensuous Woman.
Matthew had no idea his testicles were so literate. He paused a moment and
wondered if the left one was the bookworm and the other was more of the sensual
cariety. He also briefly wondered if the left brain/right brain phenomena
would apply to them, when Gretchen (seeing the glazed look on Matthew's face)
repeated her question.
"Wha...uh..no..." came the startled response. "I...just...just..." He fumbled a bit for the truth, whatever it was. And the answer came to him..perhaps from deep within one sexual organ or another...
"I mean, yeah..yes." He swallowed hard and tried not to think of cuh-cuh-cleavage. "But the firm's name is Blichly, Kilm and Gore. We specialize in medical malpractice suits."
And, a lie was born. If Matthew's testicles could applaud, they would.
And if testicles had hands to applaud with, Matthew would never leave the house....
|So Matthew figure i need to find a spouse. One who would love me and my two testicles.|
|And what large and oddly shapen testicles they are!|
|Where else would one lay eyes upon such grotesque yet wonderful, McNuggets of pure, unique, quivering existence?|
Slowly surfacing as if from a druggy sleep, the Hickster, grogish and confused,
found himself sprawled on the sidewalk with his hair and face wet.
"What The FUH...", he began, looking at the blood covered hand he withdrew from his head.
"[yaaap] OHMY, [yaaap] SWEET JESUS, [yaaapyaaap] young man, young man are you alright, [yaaap] OMYGAWD!?"
It was at that moment of painful clarity that Hickey began to form an understanding of his current state, But who was this old biddy standing above him with her Pomeranian yapping and straining at its leash?
"Young man, I am sooo sorry. Bobo didn't mean t-to do such a thing, did you sweets? I s-swear, he just has an excitable bladder."
It was then that Hickey realized, in addition to cracking his head open on an uneven paving stone, this little creature must have trotted over to his prone figure and relieved itself on his head while he was conversing with the woozy world of firm breasted, outgoing women named Gretta, or was it Gretel? The smell of dog urine stung his nostrils while his entire mouth was awash with a vile ammonio-metallic taste.
"You fucking stupid fucking cow!" he screeched, drawing back his bloodied fist to swat at the snarling dog.
Just then, excited by the reanimation of this human hydrant, Bobo lunged forward yanking a liberal length of slack from the old woman’s arthritic hands. Sailing toothlong at the threadbare bullseye of Matts crotch, Bobo snapped down hard on Hickeys now silent jumblies.