Skip to main content

BLUE BALLS

Good old Mr. Ben’s up to no good. Again. Apparently the man’s been out and about visiting places he has no business being. Number one son had an all-points bulletin out after him yesterday, having not a clue where the old geezer had disappeared to. Finally tracked him down visiting the local massage parlor trying to get massaged. Unfortunately, Mr. Ben left home without his wallet and they don’t give you credit at the massage parlor. It seems that the massage parlor ladies know Mr. Ben well so they called for someone to come and get his old butt.

Once he found his way back home I stopped by to visit him, to ask what he’s been up to worrying folks like he’s been doing. The man was tight lipped for a quick minute, and then he let me in on his secret. It seems that Mr. Ben has himself a raging case of blue balls. Now, I can’t attest to that fact personally, but that’s what he told me, and rather matter-of-factly as he took a quick moment to peek over his shoulder to insure Number One Son couldn’t hear him.

Now, it’s sometimes hard to take the stuff Mr. Ben says seriously, but he was quite serious about this condition he seems to think he’s suffering from. Apparently, blue balls is not only uncomfortable, but life threatening. Mr. Ben said so. Which is why he needed them massaged so that the buildup of pressure in his lower extremities doesn’t’ travel to his heart and cause his brain to explode. Then he asked if I would oblige. Apparently you get points toward your heavenly journey when you lend an old guy a helping hand with such a life-threatening problem. After I told him he would have to massage his own balls 'cause I wasn't going anywhere near them, Mr. Ben told me I was going straight to hell, no heavenly journey points for me.

Now, I don’t usually coddle Mr. Ben’s moments of perversion because he really doesn’t know how to let some things go and his obsession with his penis is just such a thing. But I couldn’t resist asking him if his balls were a pale shade of Carolina blue or something more along the lines of a deep, dark military blue. I personally thought this was a valid question. The man looked at me like I’d sprouted two heads and a tail for being so ill informed. Seems his balls aren’t actually blue, just in need of some attention.

Like I told Mr. Ben, what the hell do I know! I don’t have balls and I definitely don’t have blue ones. It appeared to me that this was a personal problem the old geezer was going to have to fix by his lonesome. Seems I was wrong there as well. He asked for a ride over to Ms. Beulah’s house. According to Mr. Ben, Ms. Beulah is a specialist at fixing blue balls and I’ll never be able to look at the deacon’s wife the same ever again.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

DAMMIT, DO BETTER!

I love reading. I get excited when I discover a new author or find an outstanding story. I’m eager to leave reviews and share with others my new finds. When a book or story is lackluster, leaving me less than thrilled, I usually remain silent. I know the effort that an author has put into a story. I know how hurtful a bad review can be. It is not for me to dash anyone else’s dream because what I might not have liked, someone else may have loved. Recently I read books that left me disappointed, and angry. One was an award-winning title, the author gleefully claiming a coveted statue for her efforts. Clearly what I hated, others found award-worthy. And that actually scares me. The story was as well-written as any other in the genre. Its formulaic plot hit all the buttons that her publisher required. But as a woman of color, I found it as insulting and as distasteful as any story I have ever read. The story featured a Native American heroine. She had self-esteem issues, co...
40 comments
Read more

TREYVON MARTIN

Seventeen-year old Treyvon Martin was walking back from a convenience store to his father's home, when he was allegedly accosted and shot dead by a community watch captain.   Heading home put him in a “gated” community where he clearly wasn’t welcomed.   Treyvon was black and his presence in that “gated” community was a source of consternation for the man who shot him dead as evidenced by the 911 telephone call that was made just minutes prior to the deadly shooting. The media reports that George Zimmerman, a white man, called for police assistance, reporting that Treyvon was “a suspicious person".   Despite being advised by the 911 dispatcher to not follow the young man and to wait for police, Zimmerman felt that he had the authority to approach and confront Treyvon instead.   That confrontation has now left a family to bury a child who once had a bright and promising future. The central Florida police have yet to levy any charges against Z...
16 comments
Read more

NAUGHTY OR NICE TOUR - DAY 6 - DEBORAH FLETCHER MELLO

I'm so excited to be a part of the NAUGHTY OR NICE BOOK BLOG TOUR. And it gives me great pleasure to give you the first peek at my next release, PLAYING WITH FIRE . Available from Dafina books on February 24, 2015, wherever books are sold, PLAYING WITH FIRE is the first in my two-book Sultry Southern Nights series. ENJOY this excerpt and please, PRE-ORDER your copy today! Romeo Marshall is over six feet of cool, smooth, hot, southern seductiveness--just like the music at his popular Raleigh club, The Playground Jazz and Blues Bar. With his beloved mother gone and no father he's ever known, the business is Romeo's everything. It's a place where anything can happen--and the evening one gorgeous young woman and one intriguing old musician walk into the bar--and into Romeo's life--it does. There's something about high-powered, down-to-the earth Taryn Williams that captures Romeo's attention like no other woman has. Yet unanswered questions from his past s...
30 comments
Read more