Writings » The Man With the Orange Pod

The Man With the Orange Pod

By Lash Leroux at 2007-11-28 | Ridiculous!, Sci-Fi | Printable version

It happened in sixth grade.  I was sipping Sprite at the school dance when I sensed someone fast approaching.  It was some curly bitch who lost her virginity at age ten and would inevitably become a lesbian.  To this day I don't know what I did to piss her off.  All I know is that she called me the dirtiest word I have ever heard in my life just before punting my tenders into my abdominal recess.

A wheeze turned into a low, guttural moan.  It was barely audible over Coolio's bass.  I had to get out of there.  I ran out the gym exit and kept going toward the trees at the border of the soccer field.  It felt like I was towing an oil drum from my midsection.  My scrotum was swelling so fast, my Levi's looked like a denim Louie Anderson.

I spent three days and nights weeping in the undergrowth.  It reminded me of that fateful camping trip when I diarreared all over the woods.  This was worse, though.  On day two, I unzipped to see the damage done.  To my horror, I watched as my balls fell off like a baby's umbilical stump.  As they sat there all black and rotten on the floor of damp leaves, my mind raced.  Should I put them in ice?  Should I drown myself in a creek?

That night I had a dream.  In my dream, Egon Spengler told me how to repair my missing Martians.  When he explained the science behind his theory, I knew it just might work.  The next day I made my way back to my house.  I snuck in the back door, grabbed an orange from the fridge, and fled back to the small stand of trees on the neighbor's property.

Once again I dropped my drawers and stared at the loneliness beneath my sixth-grade wiener.  I removed a small patch of peel from the orange, nodded with determination, and then stuck it up against my gaping lower pelvis.  I was met with disappointment.  Not only would I need a way of attaching my new baggage, it looked utterly ridiculous.  What was I thinking?

I was about to turn back to tell my Mom what happened to my balls when suddenly I felt something weird.  I looked down to see my groin muscles contracting like a cobra.  Suddenly, blood started pumping into my orange.  After a few seconds, a vein pushed its way up from under the peel.  I felt a great surge of strength rumble through my new sac.  Within days, my orange sprouted hair and I was ready to rock hard every day forever.

Now I have an orange pod.  It serves me well.  There is one main side effect.  I call it: non-stop blow jobs...