Wobbling Balls
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NSFW WARNING
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When I was a kid I lived in Lubbock Texas. There isn't much out there, empty desert with windmills scattered around. There isn't much to do either, so people naturally came up with ways to entertain themselves. I vividly remember camping out in the desert with my friends swapping spooky stories. Frederick Kleine-Bälle , my best friend, would always top the night off with his favorite urban legend; the story of Mr. Nesticular the testicular terror. As the story goes...
Back in the 1940s there was this war or something, and Mr. Nesticular, who won the Nobel prize in physics in 1935 for his famed volume of two spheres equation V=4/3 x π x r^3 x 2, was recruited to begin work on some sort of weapon to end the war. The weapon was some sort of device that omitted nuclear radiation. Mr. Nesticular for some reason decided to put his balls upon the weapon. His screams were heard from all over the military compound. "Ouch, my balls. Please help me, my balls they are hurt. Somebody save my balls" He apparently tried to run away from the weapon, but all it had done was nuclearly stretched his sack. Military police would later find writings in his journal that he wanted the enemy to be crushed underneath his balls.
When he woke up in the hospital the first thing he said was "My beautiful balls are they ok?" The doctor would inform him that his balls had grown to the size of two 15lbs bowling balls, his sack was stretched out to 3ft long. They estimated that he would have to either carry his balls in a bag to walk or wobble around for the rest of his life. The doctor informed him that they were also considering amputating his balls off. Mr. Nesticular never gave his answer to the doctor, and he disappeared from that hospital. A few weeks later he showed up in his home city, Lubbock. He would go around town, harassing all the men. Telling them to "BEHOLD THE POWER OF MY GARGANTUAN BALLS, CAN YOU NOT SEE THEIR PERFECTION, WHEN I SWING THEM IN THE AIR THEY OMIT A BEAUTIFUL WHIRRING NOISE, TAKE YOUR TINY BALLS OUT, LET ME SEE THEM. LET ME COMPARE!" Of course people were bothered by this, but they chalked it up to radiation poisoning effecting his brain. They should have locked him up right then and there, but they let him go.
That night he went around town, breaking into three houses. He would wake up all the men of the houses and force them to compete in his sick comparison game. If their balls were smaller than his, he would pick up his hefty balls by the sack and swing them around. "MY BALLS ARE BIGGER" He would scream, before swinging his balls down upon their balls like a mace and crushing them. 4 hospitalizations, and 1 fatality. Local news was all the buzz about it, but it just wasn't that interesting to the rest of the country.
Of course Frederick would always have to cap it off with an add-on that Mr. Nesticular somehow even survived lethal injection, that his balls absorbed his life force and allowed him to come back to Lubbock to haunt the city as a ghost. But I never really believed in urban legends.
Anyway I'm writing this because Fred passed away this past week and I was back in town for the funeral. I guess you don't think about it when you're really young but you will outlive some of your friends. Me and the guys took a nostalgia tour, going places we used to hangout. We stopped by the school, even saw a teacher we used to have a crush on. Then to top it off we spent the night camping and swapping spooky stories. We poured one out for Fred, and in remembrance I told the story of his favorite urban legend. I did however make sure to yell out how my balls were bigger than Mr. Nesticulars! It was nice getting to see friends I hadn't in years, checking in with non-blood family as well.
That's when I first saw him though, at the funeral. Out of the corner of my eye was a man in a grey trench coat, in-fact all of him looked gray... even his balls that were swinging back and forth in the wind were grey. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, and the man was gone. I thought I was losing it, I know it was Fred's favorite story, but jeez.
Then at the funeral after party (FAP) at Spanky's I spilt some marinara on my shirt while eating fried cheese, so I went to the bathroom. There was a ceiling tile missing in the bathroom above the sink, and the light was flickering. As I was washing my shirt off, dabbing not wiping, the light flickered for a complete second. When it came back on, I looked in the mirror and to my horror dangling from the missing ceiling tile directly next to my head was a pair of massive, perfectly sphereical, vascular, hairless, musty, grey balls. I screamed at the top of my lungs.
By the time a waiter came in to check on me, they were gone. I left the FAP in a hurry and went straight back to my parents house. I thought I was losing it. URBAN LEGENDS AREN'T REAL. There was a knocking at the front door. I was about to go see who it was when I heard a thud. Then I heard the familiar creak of the front door swinging open. "Mom? Dad? Is that you?" I called out, but there was no response. I shut my door and locked it.
Then I heard the intruder start to make his way up the stairs. Step, step, thud. Step, step, thud. The familiar smell of ball sweat cascaded under the door. Step, step, thud. Step, step, thud. I rushed over to the window and began to open it. I realized I left the keys on my desk so I burst back to grab them. As soon as I got the keys I saw the shadows of feet underneath the door, as well as a large swaying shadow in between them. "SHOW ME YOUR BALLS, I BET MINE ARE BIGGER." THUD. THUD. THUD. Mr. Nesticular was thrusting into the doors, trying to break it down with his massive balls. I practically dove out the window, adrenaline pulsed through my veins as I picked myself up from the fall and got in the car. As I pulled out of the driveway I could see him. A grey decaying old man standing in-front of the window, his balls swayed gently in the night breeze. I drove straight to the airport to get on a flight home asap. Beware of Mr. Nesticular, he will crush your balls.
Credited to sunshine7k
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