The scene: two testicles riding high in the saddle of a middle-management computer programmer scrotal sack.... What could happen under such circumstances? Who knows?
Jurgen: Did you see that he bought a new car?
Michael: I saw! What dude buys a Cooper Mini?
Jurgen: I know! Right?
Micheal: Well, I suppose he thinks it is a chick magnet. I mean, 4 years kinda is a long time to not... ya know... be intimate...
Jurgen: You are telling me! I thought he was going to rent this nutsack out to a bunch of owls...
Michael: What are you reading? Looks kinda dumb.
Jurgen: It is. It's Freud. I mean, I thought I knew what a dick was for but apparently I was wrong. Seems that it is a metaphor.
Michael: That's just it! I don't know. I mean, fuck, I thought it was for doing the dirty business of getting down to business. But apparently it is so much more!
Jurgen: Have you met the guy upstairs! That is what he lives for! I mean, show the dude a sheep and he is up to the task. Sodomy laws be damned!
Michael: What's sodomy?
Jurgen: Sit down Michael. Let me explain... Be right back.
(Jurgen disappears into the bathroom and returns in a red smoking jacket and with a pipe wafting the delicate smoke of the depths of time)
Jurgen: You see, there comes a time in a man's life when he gets tired of vagina.
Michael: TIRED OF VAGINA!!!!!! WHAT BLASPEMY!!!
Jurgen: Wait, wait, wait... Here me out. Do you understand that girls have more than one hole?
Michael: What? You are messing with my concept of reality. Dude, there is only one! You are clearly not participating in the consensus concept of reality! Wait... you have been eating ecstacy again.
Jurgen: My poor, poor, poor Michael. You are so unschooled in the ways of love. Do you not remember that time that you turned blue from all that pressure? That was Brenda's teeth squeezing off your life line!
Michael: Really? I thought I was just light headed from rocking out to Toto! That song about the rains in Africa is totally fucking sweet. Do you remember that time we did it at the company christmas party. I had so much fun I threw up and then needed my inhaler!
Jurgen: Totally fucking sweet band. But off topic. Let us return to the lesson at hand. Two words my nascent friend: B.J.
Michael: You fucking idiot! Those are letters! Jesus and you give me shit for only having a GED!
Jurgen: Christ on a popsicle stick! A BLOW JOB!!!!!!
Michael: What do wind machines have to do with this!
Jurgen: Nothing you Fuck-tard! It is when a girl puts the big man (they chuckle at all 4 inches of the "Big Man Upstairs") in her mouth and sucks on it!
Michael: So why is it called a "blow job" if she is sucking?
Jurgen: Its a fucking metaphor!
Michael: No it isnt! They are opposites! Blowing and sucking do not overlap on a vin diagram! Have you been huffing paint again! That makes no sense!
Jurgen: You know I quit huffing paint after I graduated from MIT. Get a fucking grip. It is just a turn of phrase. Get with the program!
Michael: Get a thesaurus you idiot. Those words do not mean the same thing! Jesus! You speak like one of those douchebags on Fox News! A tale full of sound and fury signify jackassery! My god! Was your mom eating paint chips while she was pregnant? Or was this before she went into A.A.? That would explain a lot. Especially why the leff side of your face doesnt work. You look like that guy from The Goonies or Carson Daily: take your pick.
Jurgen: You asshole! Whatever happend to the rule about my moms!
Michael: Well, my mom wasnt drinking Coleman latern fuel to get high while she was having sex with my dad. Don't blame me!
Jurgen: You son of a....
(Fighting ensues)
End scene....
Please tune in next week. Same scrotal time. Same scrotal place.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Somewhere in the deep recesses of the mind Reginald just might remember something, other than a drunken haze…
Reginald: Wake up sonabitch, wake up…
Lamar: Really, again, I’m really not that hungover this time, do we really have to keep doing this shit?
Reginald: Sorry, but who else am I gonna spout off to at this time at night, and what the fuck, we live in a nut sac, we really have no time, so get your fucking ass up.
Lamar: How about you cook me two pouched eggs placed delicately on some sesame seed bagels with low-fat cream cheese , and then I will get up.
Reginald: Sure, (meanwhile Reg cooks up the above order and musters up some long ago kept away jeez instead of cream cheese, who orders low-fat cream cheese anyway?).
Lamar: mmm. So good, Just as if it was in my dreams, now why did you wake me up?
Reginald: Because I can’t sleep, I’d thought you might have some pointers, and don’t’ give me that fucking same swan song about you jacking off and peacing out.
Lamar: I thought you usually drink yourself to sleep, I’m a little surprised by the question, what’s up..
Reginald: I just figured out how to beat Mario I on the NES, and am now playing Mario II, I just think its to damn easy, but am intrigued by the fact that vegetables are the good people, and then when I play Mario III its much more complicated, and more fun to play, but the ending is fucking hard as balls. So I suppose I’m asking is do you have any philosophy behind Mario, or do you just play the shit?
Lamar: Really, where do you come up with this fucking shit, do you have a life?
Reginald: Really, do you not know where the fuck we are? We are in a goddamn ballsac so quit your bullshitting and answer the goddamn question you sorry fuck.
Lamar: Well, I believe there is no great philosophy behind Mario, and fuck all the college boys that think else wise, there just ain’t. It’s made by Japanese, do you realize how fucked up those people are?
Reginald: That’s very racist of you to say Lamar, don’t you know that our Supreme Court just bad-mouthed that whole Japanese internment camp deal, and now you talk shit about them, they gave us sushi for crying out loud.
Lamar: Seriously, Fuck You. Okay, there is a simply philosophy behind Mario, repetition, repetition, repetition, and then you can beat all three. And considering how much pot you smoke, that should be fun. Sure Mario II is a dream world, but it is easy and actually playing with other characters is cool, but do not forget the fact that Mario III is the ultimate shit. As for philosophy, well, vegetables are a just ton better than those helmet head mother fucking ghouls or whatever.
Reginald: Thanks bro, didn’t know you could reach so deep. So, what do you think about death?
Thus ends another, stayed tuned, as long as there are inhibitants, this shit will keep going along…
Also, I apologize...
Reginald: Wake up sonabitch, wake up…
Lamar: Really, again, I’m really not that hungover this time, do we really have to keep doing this shit?
Reginald: Sorry, but who else am I gonna spout off to at this time at night, and what the fuck, we live in a nut sac, we really have no time, so get your fucking ass up.
Lamar: How about you cook me two pouched eggs placed delicately on some sesame seed bagels with low-fat cream cheese , and then I will get up.
Reginald: Sure, (meanwhile Reg cooks up the above order and musters up some long ago kept away jeez instead of cream cheese, who orders low-fat cream cheese anyway?).
Lamar: mmm. So good, Just as if it was in my dreams, now why did you wake me up?
Reginald: Because I can’t sleep, I’d thought you might have some pointers, and don’t’ give me that fucking same swan song about you jacking off and peacing out.
Lamar: I thought you usually drink yourself to sleep, I’m a little surprised by the question, what’s up..
Reginald: I just figured out how to beat Mario I on the NES, and am now playing Mario II, I just think its to damn easy, but am intrigued by the fact that vegetables are the good people, and then when I play Mario III its much more complicated, and more fun to play, but the ending is fucking hard as balls. So I suppose I’m asking is do you have any philosophy behind Mario, or do you just play the shit?
Lamar: Really, where do you come up with this fucking shit, do you have a life?
Reginald: Really, do you not know where the fuck we are? We are in a goddamn ballsac so quit your bullshitting and answer the goddamn question you sorry fuck.
Lamar: Well, I believe there is no great philosophy behind Mario, and fuck all the college boys that think else wise, there just ain’t. It’s made by Japanese, do you realize how fucked up those people are?
Reginald: That’s very racist of you to say Lamar, don’t you know that our Supreme Court just bad-mouthed that whole Japanese internment camp deal, and now you talk shit about them, they gave us sushi for crying out loud.
Lamar: Seriously, Fuck You. Okay, there is a simply philosophy behind Mario, repetition, repetition, repetition, and then you can beat all three. And considering how much pot you smoke, that should be fun. Sure Mario II is a dream world, but it is easy and actually playing with other characters is cool, but do not forget the fact that Mario III is the ultimate shit. As for philosophy, well, vegetables are a just ton better than those helmet head mother fucking ghouls or whatever.
Reginald: Thanks bro, didn’t know you could reach so deep. So, what do you think about death?
Thus ends another, stayed tuned, as long as there are inhibitants, this shit will keep going along…
Also, I apologize...
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
This time I am trying to decipher what I wrote last night while a wee bit drunk. I have very bad handwriting so this is harder than it seems, and it probably sucks.
(After a long, heavy night of drinking Lamar is unable to wake up before Reginald, maybe for the first time ever.)
Reginald: Another day, another, well, I suppose nothing...its great being unemployed. Hmm, where the fuck is Lamar, he usually has made coffee and bisquits and is doing the crossword puzzle by now, I wonder if he went and hid up in the gut? Holy shit, he's still passed out on the couch. "Lamar, get up you fucking pussy, you only had about 8 beers, thats sometimes as much as I drink before noon.
Lamar: mvemjsunp, (while staggering himself up from the couch)
Reginald: Shit, did you go to sleep watching that Saved By the Bell episode in which they participated is some quiz bowl tournament, and Screech was training Zack and told him to use this mnemonic device to help him remember the planets in order from the sun, thats hilarious. Which Saved by the Bell bitch would you do Lamar?
Lamar: Dude, give me some time, my brain feels like a chia pet.
Reginald: That's when some of the greatest quotes have ever been made, just think of any great quote and I bet the person who made it was either drunk or coming off of a crazy bender.
Lamar: I had this crazy dream, I think, where this high school I went to found oil on its property, and I ended up fucking the tall, curly haired blond who was attempting to protest the drilling of oil, and then she ended up being a stripper, or maybe just a shitty actress, something like that.
Reginald: Holy Cow! You totally past out to a Saved By the Bell marathon, and that was Jessie Spano you were dreaming about. Welcome to my world.
Lamar: What the fuck do I do about this fucking headache then?
Reginald: Here's some BC powder arthritis strength, down it with a bunch of water and here's a beer.
Lamar: That will take care of my hangover?
Reginald: Hell yes, I even have a half of a blunt left that we can smoke.
Lamar: Whatever you say, you're the pro.
(smoke break)
5 minutes or 5 hours later
Lamar: You're totally right, I don't know whys I've beens slaving for thats shits-head upstairs, grabs me another beer.
Reginald: See, all in takes is a little libations to let your true self shine
(suddenly some shaking in the sac occurs)
Lamar: What the fuck is happening, is this the effect of the pot?
Reginald: Hell no, I think its been such a long time for the big guy to get laid that we've forgotten what it feels like, Hold On!
(after about a minute the shaking stops)
Reginald: Damn, you look blue, blue as hell, are you breathing okay?
Lamer: I don't know, I felt myself getting tapped out for some juice, but I'm too damn drunk and stoned to do anything, what the fuck.
Reginald: Fuck an Ass, we gave him blue balls, way to go bro.
Lamar: I'm about to puke, this sucks.
Reginald: Well, if your lucky, he didn't piss her off and she'll suck his cock, but don't count on it, he just pulled a minute man, she's definately pissed.
Lamar: Man, this is tough.
Reginald: I never said living the life of a drunk was easy.
(After a long, heavy night of drinking Lamar is unable to wake up before Reginald, maybe for the first time ever.)
Reginald: Another day, another, well, I suppose nothing...its great being unemployed. Hmm, where the fuck is Lamar, he usually has made coffee and bisquits and is doing the crossword puzzle by now, I wonder if he went and hid up in the gut? Holy shit, he's still passed out on the couch. "Lamar, get up you fucking pussy, you only had about 8 beers, thats sometimes as much as I drink before noon.
Lamar: mvemjsunp, (while staggering himself up from the couch)
Reginald: Shit, did you go to sleep watching that Saved By the Bell episode in which they participated is some quiz bowl tournament, and Screech was training Zack and told him to use this mnemonic device to help him remember the planets in order from the sun, thats hilarious. Which Saved by the Bell bitch would you do Lamar?
Lamar: Dude, give me some time, my brain feels like a chia pet.
Reginald: That's when some of the greatest quotes have ever been made, just think of any great quote and I bet the person who made it was either drunk or coming off of a crazy bender.
Lamar: I had this crazy dream, I think, where this high school I went to found oil on its property, and I ended up fucking the tall, curly haired blond who was attempting to protest the drilling of oil, and then she ended up being a stripper, or maybe just a shitty actress, something like that.
Reginald: Holy Cow! You totally past out to a Saved By the Bell marathon, and that was Jessie Spano you were dreaming about. Welcome to my world.
Lamar: What the fuck do I do about this fucking headache then?
Reginald: Here's some BC powder arthritis strength, down it with a bunch of water and here's a beer.
Lamar: That will take care of my hangover?
Reginald: Hell yes, I even have a half of a blunt left that we can smoke.
Lamar: Whatever you say, you're the pro.
(smoke break)
5 minutes or 5 hours later
Lamar: You're totally right, I don't know whys I've beens slaving for thats shits-head upstairs, grabs me another beer.
Reginald: See, all in takes is a little libations to let your true self shine
(suddenly some shaking in the sac occurs)
Lamar: What the fuck is happening, is this the effect of the pot?
Reginald: Hell no, I think its been such a long time for the big guy to get laid that we've forgotten what it feels like, Hold On!
(after about a minute the shaking stops)
Reginald: Damn, you look blue, blue as hell, are you breathing okay?
Lamer: I don't know, I felt myself getting tapped out for some juice, but I'm too damn drunk and stoned to do anything, what the fuck.
Reginald: Fuck an Ass, we gave him blue balls, way to go bro.
Lamar: I'm about to puke, this sucks.
Reginald: Well, if your lucky, he didn't piss her off and she'll suck his cock, but don't count on it, he just pulled a minute man, she's definately pissed.
Lamar: Man, this is tough.
Reginald: I never said living the life of a drunk was easy.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
have I lost the magic...
Realized I Really enjoy this shit, so I started a blog...I'm drunk by the way.
Continuation of the ballalouges…
Reginald (waking up from cloudy hangover): Hey, where on earth did I put my gun?
Lamar: You have a gun? Since when?
Reginald: Since I decided that I live a hopeless life and had the foresight into blowing my brains out.
Lamar: Man, you are one fucking dark creature.
Reginald: Come to think of it I’m pretty sure I got it while I was feeling depressed because I forgot what day it was, tried to buy booze, and unbeknownst to myself it was Sunday. So instead I bought a gun, next best thing I suppose.
Lamar: Then why are you hungover, if you bought a gun instead of booze.
Reginald: I forgot about the secret stash up in the dick basement, so I didn’t really need it, I just got drunk like I had planned all along.
Lamar: You’re sick
Reginald: Well, I could be like yourself and make a sport out of masturbating to Rachel Ray’s shitty talk show, or worse, Oprah’s piece of shit show.
Lamar: Well, someone needs to do some work around here. I just emptied out the garbage when someone had forgot to last night.
Reginald: If it wasn’t for all your dirty jeez rags we wouldn’t hardly have any garbage, all my beer cans and whiskey bottles goes into recycling, because someone around here is trying to save the environment. Just use wash rags instead of all of our supply of paper towels.
Lamar: Well, when taken into consideration, your drunk ass might be right. What are you watching by the way?
Reginald: Really, you’ve never seen this shit before, it Cheer’s. it’s a popular TV show if the 80’s, set in a bar in Boston, You know, “where everybody knows your name.” The only thing shitty about it is these fucking women who have stupid relationships with Sam, the bar owner, they just won’t shut the fuck up. It really needs to revolve around the bartenders, Norm, and Cliff, the postman full of useless knowledge.
Lamar: I’ve never heard you be so emotional about a show, or anything for that matter, before. These women must be horrid.
Reginald: And they are, whiny fucking bitches, and in my opinion not really that hot either.
Lamar: But you are playing by 80’s standards right, no one looked hot in the 80’s.
Reginald: You are correct, but there were plenty of hot babes in the 80’s, but I suppose the cunts like Molly Ringwald kind of ruined the decade. I thought the lead singer from the Go-Go’s was hot, and what about that song “Walk like an Eygptian,” god those eyes she made. And then there was that chick who sang “I want candy” who doesn’t want your candy titties. And then there is Farris Bueller’s girlfriend, and not to mention the hottie from weird science, whew.
Lamar: Okay, so you just made it a point that you really haven’t masturbated since the 80’s, have you? You’ve been too tied up with smoking weed and drinking to even notice what’s out there.
Reginald: That may be true, but I get some sort of pleasure undermining the big guy upstairs by not producing cumjuice, and as a fallback, booze and weed are great. I suppose I could masterbate to the fucking shit you do just so he can bust his wad to Paris Hilton give a bj on his internet. Fuck that shit.
Lamar: Hey, some if its better than Paris, I mean, he does watch real porn stars, and someday he may actually fuck a chick.
Reginald: You hopeless coward, he hasn’t gotten laid in 3 years, and the last time was hell on earth, remember, she had to have been 250 pounds and was incessant about being on top, fuck, even you had a headache, almost got smashed.
Lamar: But he’s been working out, I think that something may actually happen.
Reginald: Well, you and John fucking Lennon can go on dreaming, cause you probably are the only ones. What we have here is a battle of wits. Big guy ain’t going get none anytime soon, so we may as well enjoy ourselves. So get a beer and lets watch the game you fucking moron.
Lamar: I suppose your right, jacking off to Oprah was starting to make me feel nauseated, but not so much with Rachel Ray, especially with the mute button on.
Reginald: Just fucking drink your busch, dammit
Continuation of the ballalouges…
Reginald (waking up from cloudy hangover): Hey, where on earth did I put my gun?
Lamar: You have a gun? Since when?
Reginald: Since I decided that I live a hopeless life and had the foresight into blowing my brains out.
Lamar: Man, you are one fucking dark creature.
Reginald: Come to think of it I’m pretty sure I got it while I was feeling depressed because I forgot what day it was, tried to buy booze, and unbeknownst to myself it was Sunday. So instead I bought a gun, next best thing I suppose.
Lamar: Then why are you hungover, if you bought a gun instead of booze.
Reginald: I forgot about the secret stash up in the dick basement, so I didn’t really need it, I just got drunk like I had planned all along.
Lamar: You’re sick
Reginald: Well, I could be like yourself and make a sport out of masturbating to Rachel Ray’s shitty talk show, or worse, Oprah’s piece of shit show.
Lamar: Well, someone needs to do some work around here. I just emptied out the garbage when someone had forgot to last night.
Reginald: If it wasn’t for all your dirty jeez rags we wouldn’t hardly have any garbage, all my beer cans and whiskey bottles goes into recycling, because someone around here is trying to save the environment. Just use wash rags instead of all of our supply of paper towels.
Lamar: Well, when taken into consideration, your drunk ass might be right. What are you watching by the way?
Reginald: Really, you’ve never seen this shit before, it Cheer’s. it’s a popular TV show if the 80’s, set in a bar in Boston, You know, “where everybody knows your name.” The only thing shitty about it is these fucking women who have stupid relationships with Sam, the bar owner, they just won’t shut the fuck up. It really needs to revolve around the bartenders, Norm, and Cliff, the postman full of useless knowledge.
Lamar: I’ve never heard you be so emotional about a show, or anything for that matter, before. These women must be horrid.
Reginald: And they are, whiny fucking bitches, and in my opinion not really that hot either.
Lamar: But you are playing by 80’s standards right, no one looked hot in the 80’s.
Reginald: You are correct, but there were plenty of hot babes in the 80’s, but I suppose the cunts like Molly Ringwald kind of ruined the decade. I thought the lead singer from the Go-Go’s was hot, and what about that song “Walk like an Eygptian,” god those eyes she made. And then there was that chick who sang “I want candy” who doesn’t want your candy titties. And then there is Farris Bueller’s girlfriend, and not to mention the hottie from weird science, whew.
Lamar: Okay, so you just made it a point that you really haven’t masturbated since the 80’s, have you? You’ve been too tied up with smoking weed and drinking to even notice what’s out there.
Reginald: That may be true, but I get some sort of pleasure undermining the big guy upstairs by not producing cumjuice, and as a fallback, booze and weed are great. I suppose I could masterbate to the fucking shit you do just so he can bust his wad to Paris Hilton give a bj on his internet. Fuck that shit.
Lamar: Hey, some if its better than Paris, I mean, he does watch real porn stars, and someday he may actually fuck a chick.
Reginald: You hopeless coward, he hasn’t gotten laid in 3 years, and the last time was hell on earth, remember, she had to have been 250 pounds and was incessant about being on top, fuck, even you had a headache, almost got smashed.
Lamar: But he’s been working out, I think that something may actually happen.
Reginald: Well, you and John fucking Lennon can go on dreaming, cause you probably are the only ones. What we have here is a battle of wits. Big guy ain’t going get none anytime soon, so we may as well enjoy ourselves. So get a beer and lets watch the game you fucking moron.
Lamar: I suppose your right, jacking off to Oprah was starting to make me feel nauseated, but not so much with Rachel Ray, especially with the mute button on.
Reginald: Just fucking drink your busch, dammit
another
Don't know how this happened, I really don't remember writing it, but nonetheless here it is...
Hopefully a long awaited return to ballalogues…
Lamar is wondering why the fuck Reginald has been on the toilet for 3 hours…
Reginald: Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, oh yeah fucking christ I should’ve taken you to the prom, fuck yeah, just a little more, whew
Lamar: You are probably the most disgusting ball I’ve ever met, maybe only the only ball I’ve ever met you stupid rumshackle excuse for a ball.
Reginald: flakfj;laskjdfsdflj;slkfj
Lamar: How lame, to use the middle line keys only to reply to my bitching.
Reginald: Let’s put is this way. You have been working your little ass off to produce sperm and in reality, Mr. Big upstairs hasn’t been using it too wisely lately in my opinion, and my opinion has been very clouded by booze lately.
Lamar: And so has his…Sometimes I feel like I am the only straight thinker around here. I just re-organized every closet in this goddamn ballsac. By the way, your tomato plant seeds. I flushed that shit down the toilet.
Reginald: Well, I am going to calmly inform you that THOSE WERE NOT TOMATO SEEDS YOU FUCKING MORON. I have been harvesting marijuana seeds ever since big boy upstairs starting smoking weed and cutting down on our production. Now I have no leverage in our existence. I see no other way past this unless you pay for my drinking habit for 1 year or suck my dick, hahaha.
Lamar: You have no dick you fucking ball
Hopefully a long awaited return to ballalogues…
Lamar is wondering why the fuck Reginald has been on the toilet for 3 hours…
Reginald: Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, oh yeah fucking christ I should’ve taken you to the prom, fuck yeah, just a little more, whew
Lamar: You are probably the most disgusting ball I’ve ever met, maybe only the only ball I’ve ever met you stupid rumshackle excuse for a ball.
Reginald: flakfj;laskjdfsdflj;slkfj
Lamar: How lame, to use the middle line keys only to reply to my bitching.
Reginald: Let’s put is this way. You have been working your little ass off to produce sperm and in reality, Mr. Big upstairs hasn’t been using it too wisely lately in my opinion, and my opinion has been very clouded by booze lately.
Lamar: And so has his…Sometimes I feel like I am the only straight thinker around here. I just re-organized every closet in this goddamn ballsac. By the way, your tomato plant seeds. I flushed that shit down the toilet.
Reginald: Well, I am going to calmly inform you that THOSE WERE NOT TOMATO SEEDS YOU FUCKING MORON. I have been harvesting marijuana seeds ever since big boy upstairs starting smoking weed and cutting down on our production. Now I have no leverage in our existence. I see no other way past this unless you pay for my drinking habit for 1 year or suck my dick, hahaha.
Lamar: You have no dick you fucking ball
The Beginning
This happened many moons ago, enjoy...Ballalogues
Somewhere there reside two balls who live in a humid, dark location. Their only enjoyment and sorrow can only come from each other, since that is all they see and hear. Their names are Lamar (ball on the left) and Reginald (ball on the right) and we will pick up on one of their many endless bantering sessions.
Lamar: Hey, can I borrow ten dollars?
Reginald: Jesus Christ. Can’t you see I’m doing the crossword puzzle? What was that Barbara Striesand movie where she won an Oscar?
Lamar: How the fuck do you expect me to know anything about that bitch and whore of an actress. The only thing I know of her is she was a beast on that Southpark episode.
Reginald: Wasn’t that Rosie O’donnell, oh well, what’s the difference except for a few hundred pounds. Don’t play all too cool for school with me, I know you have a hidden obsession with her, now tell me and I’ll give you the ten dollars.
Lamar: Funny Girl, she played Fanny Brice…the only reason I know that shit is because my Mom made me watch all her movies growing up.
Reginald: Grow some balls bitch and stop blaming your Mom…Here’s your ten bucks
Lamar: How am I gonna grow balls when I am one, and by the way, maybe we should talk about who has been doing most of the sperm producing around here. Seems to me that all you do is hang around doing crossword puzzles, drinking scotch, and smoking that damn pipe of yours.
Reginald: Hmm, let’s think about it. All I have going for me right now is sitting in a small, dark, hot and humid sac with my only discussions occurring with a half-witted imbecile who actually think he’s doing some good in this world by squirting out a few milligrams of jizz into the vas deferens every so often. Tell me why in the world would I want work my ass off just so that horny bastard upstairs gets to cum all over some bitch when the only enjoyment I might get is to be banged around while all I’m trying to do is get my buzz on so I can put up with your bullshit.
Lamar: Well, I can see someone is out of there happy pills. How about I give you a surprise I got you. Here.
(hands Reginald a magazine)
Reginald: What the hell is this, some disgusting porno that is all crumpled and sticky from you using it?
Lamar: No, better. It’s an issue of Sports Digest. So it will flood your memory of those days when the big guy upstairs used to play all those sports that included balls, which somehow always found a way to knock the shit out of us.
Reginald: (throwing the magazine against the wall, perturbed) You are such a fucking asshole Lamar. It took me six months of counseling, hundreds of pills, and gallons of booze to help me forget about those traumatic days and you come in here bringing it all back with this disgusting magazine that is best used as a fire starter.
Lamar: Well, at least I’m being thoughtful to my sacmate. By the way, I shouldn’t even get you a surprise the way you have been neglecting on cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen. Even if the washer is full at least rinse off your fucking plate, especially when you eat fried eggs and that yolk dries up and is impossible to clean off once it hardens.
Reginald: God, are you sure you don’t have a giner cause I feel like I need to start calling you Lucille. That shit has happened only a couple of times and it was because I was reeling from an awful hangover. Hell, I was lucky just to put it in the sink without vomiting all over our humble sac.
Lamar: Couple of times, ha. Your hungover about 90 percent of the time.
Reginald: Maybe so, but I was only dumb enough twice to try and swallow down some fried eggs the next morning to help eliminate the headache, only to realize that the only true cure is to start drinking more beer.
Lamar: Can’t argue with that.
Thus ends the first ballalogue between sacmates, best friends, sworn enemies, and brothers (little do they know by different Dads) Lamar and Reginald.
Somewhere there reside two balls who live in a humid, dark location. Their only enjoyment and sorrow can only come from each other, since that is all they see and hear. Their names are Lamar (ball on the left) and Reginald (ball on the right) and we will pick up on one of their many endless bantering sessions.
Lamar: Hey, can I borrow ten dollars?
Reginald: Jesus Christ. Can’t you see I’m doing the crossword puzzle? What was that Barbara Striesand movie where she won an Oscar?
Lamar: How the fuck do you expect me to know anything about that bitch and whore of an actress. The only thing I know of her is she was a beast on that Southpark episode.
Reginald: Wasn’t that Rosie O’donnell, oh well, what’s the difference except for a few hundred pounds. Don’t play all too cool for school with me, I know you have a hidden obsession with her, now tell me and I’ll give you the ten dollars.
Lamar: Funny Girl, she played Fanny Brice…the only reason I know that shit is because my Mom made me watch all her movies growing up.
Reginald: Grow some balls bitch and stop blaming your Mom…Here’s your ten bucks
Lamar: How am I gonna grow balls when I am one, and by the way, maybe we should talk about who has been doing most of the sperm producing around here. Seems to me that all you do is hang around doing crossword puzzles, drinking scotch, and smoking that damn pipe of yours.
Reginald: Hmm, let’s think about it. All I have going for me right now is sitting in a small, dark, hot and humid sac with my only discussions occurring with a half-witted imbecile who actually think he’s doing some good in this world by squirting out a few milligrams of jizz into the vas deferens every so often. Tell me why in the world would I want work my ass off just so that horny bastard upstairs gets to cum all over some bitch when the only enjoyment I might get is to be banged around while all I’m trying to do is get my buzz on so I can put up with your bullshit.
Lamar: Well, I can see someone is out of there happy pills. How about I give you a surprise I got you. Here.
(hands Reginald a magazine)
Reginald: What the hell is this, some disgusting porno that is all crumpled and sticky from you using it?
Lamar: No, better. It’s an issue of Sports Digest. So it will flood your memory of those days when the big guy upstairs used to play all those sports that included balls, which somehow always found a way to knock the shit out of us.
Reginald: (throwing the magazine against the wall, perturbed) You are such a fucking asshole Lamar. It took me six months of counseling, hundreds of pills, and gallons of booze to help me forget about those traumatic days and you come in here bringing it all back with this disgusting magazine that is best used as a fire starter.
Lamar: Well, at least I’m being thoughtful to my sacmate. By the way, I shouldn’t even get you a surprise the way you have been neglecting on cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen. Even if the washer is full at least rinse off your fucking plate, especially when you eat fried eggs and that yolk dries up and is impossible to clean off once it hardens.
Reginald: God, are you sure you don’t have a giner cause I feel like I need to start calling you Lucille. That shit has happened only a couple of times and it was because I was reeling from an awful hangover. Hell, I was lucky just to put it in the sink without vomiting all over our humble sac.
Lamar: Couple of times, ha. Your hungover about 90 percent of the time.
Reginald: Maybe so, but I was only dumb enough twice to try and swallow down some fried eggs the next morning to help eliminate the headache, only to realize that the only true cure is to start drinking more beer.
Lamar: Can’t argue with that.
Thus ends the first ballalogue between sacmates, best friends, sworn enemies, and brothers (little do they know by different Dads) Lamar and Reginald.
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