Wobbling Balls: Difference between revisions
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{{NSFW}}
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
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.
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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
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.
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