5 April 06
By all appearances, my scrotum has healed.
“I know why your scrotum was bleeding,” George said.
“It’s to do with your latent homosexuality. You’re about to come out of the closet, and you’re afraid your homosexual lovers will scorn your deformed scrotum, so you decided to hack off your moles.”
“That sounds like more wishful thinking on your behalf George,” I said.
“It’s true. You’re afraid your gay lovers will make fun of your hideous deformity.”
“George,” I said. “The moles on my balls are tiny. Granted there are a lot of them, but I’ve never had any complaints.”
“That’s because you only did it in the dark. The only people who got close enough to see the moles were your midget lovers, and thank God they had little midget eyeballs that were far sighted, and couldn’t see your deformed scrotum.”
“George, I never had midget lovers! My scrotum isn’t deformed, and I didn’t only have sex in the dark!"
Xena entered the cell and said, “Did you snag your nutsack on somethin’?”
“Not that I know of,” I said.
“He did it masturbating,” George said.
“There’s nothin’ wrong with that,” Xena said.
George attempted to grab Xena’s penis. They fell on the bottom bunk and began wrestling.
“I’ll kill you,” Xena yelled, pinning George to the bunk. “Don’t be tryin’ to touch my testicles. He thinks I’m hung like Donkey Kong, but I’m only hung like a bull hamster.”
George, panting heavily, said, “He needs someone to help him count the moles on his scrotum, Xena.”
“There’s too many,” I said.
“Have you tried numberin’ them?” Xena said.
“No.” I laughed.
“He’s trying to cut the moles off his testicles because of his latent homosexuality,” George said.
“Explain the word latent,” Xena said.
“It’s deep down in Jon. It’s going to come out later. He’s a soon-to-be homosexual,” George said.
Xena, ignoring George, said in a tone of concern, “You need to pay attention to your moles, especially if they become irregular in shape or if red marks grow around the perimeters.”
“Yes, I’ll keep a check on them.”
“He needs an independent assessment,” George said. “I need to look at them!”
“You've really gotta be careful who looks at them,” Xena said. “If it's George, you’re in trouble - the moment you take your eyes off him, he’ll be messin' with more than your moles.”
“I’m not attracted to Jon any more,” George said. “I don’t think about him like that now.”
“Bullshit,” Xena said. “Everytime I come over here you’re tryin’ to work it, slut.”
“You lying whore!” George said. “Skin that.”
“I put it on my skin,” Xena said. “Why do you keep insistin’ he’s homosexual?”
“Because he’s tall, bald, British and skinny.”
“You have a point,” Xena said and eyed me suspiciously. “All the people I know that are tall, pale and bald are homosexuals – especially skinny guys.”
“Not this skinny guy,” I said.
“Have you ever been to San Francisco?” Xena asked.
“Yes,” I said.
George and Xena oohed in sync. Their eyes lit up.
“Did you go to a neighbourhood called The Castro?” Xena said.
“No, I went raving in San Francisco.”
“He’s outta the closet,” George yelled. “What did I tell you about tall, pale, deformed-scrotum, English dudes!”
“Almost all the English guys I’ve met are homosexual,” Xena said.
“That’s because you guys attract homosexuals!” I said.
“If he’s been The Castro, he’s gay,” Xena said, as if that settled it.
“I’ve never even heard of The Castro!” And whose side are you on anyway, Xena?”
“I guess I gotta take a man at his word,” Xena said.
“Especially a tall, bald, deformed-scrotum man,” George said, approaching me with a leer on his face. “Elton John is a typical bald, pale, gay English guy. I wonder how many knights bones Sir Elton has jumped.” George turned and jumped on Xena.
Xena wrestled George down until George was winded.
“Xena, stop toying with my fucking emotions,” George said.
“What emotions?” Xena asked.
“I love you, Xena. Come and live with me,” George said slowly in-between panting.
Xena smiled at me and strutted out.
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Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood