A Cat Named Scrotoplasty

Ever hear a word and think it’s an excellent choice for your next pet’s name? Well, one of my buds came clean at a dirty dive bar yesterday about an upcoming procedure. Once he mentioned the word (scrotoplasty), all I could think of (to distract me from the painful imagery concocted within my gin-soaked skull) was what a great name it would make for a kitten.

“Here, Scroto. Want some catnip, fella?”

Those of you—I’m hoping for most of you—who don’t know what scrotoplasty is, please allow me to assist. It’s augmentation for the nut sack.

(Pause. Unfuck your mind. Refill your coffee. See you in a bit.)

It involves a tightening of the skin, which tends to see additional sag as we age. I attest, Philly’s balls do sag whence not so chilly. I don’t mind at all. This is why I wear Under Armour boxer briefs. They keep them boys neatly tucked, no matter the climate.

Now, if my bing-bongs became so danglous as to begin slapping off my knees as I jogged on the treadmill, yes, I would consider a nip and tuck. Otherwise, oh, fuck no!

I’ve never heard any woman complain about saggy nuts. Does this happen? I can imagine that pendulous nads could cause some annoyance in missionary position while slapping against your anus. Some might find that pleasurable. Well, if one got stuck that would be an ouchie.

I think it’s part of my pal’s midlife crisis, especially considering he recently had the tip of his penis pierced.

(Pause again. Ow. Mother fucking ow. Jesus.)

Yes, he showed us pictures. It’s a hoop ring though his pee hole, popping out the bottom of his under-head.

(And, yes, my asshole just puckered too, friend-o.)

I asked if he considered a far less painful, more popular, and highly douchey means.

“Couldn’t you just go buy a Corvette?”

“Never. Dude, chicks are into it.”

“Wait a minute. Are you saying you leave that ring in when you go deep?”

“Yup.”

(I had to get up, visit the john, and bang my head against the cold tile above the urinal to recover from that one.)

He told us he also has both nipples pierced. I told him I wish he’d create a chain loop from his nuts through his nipples to his ears and back. Then, I’d like him to sit in a puddle during a thunderstorm.

Harsh, I know.

Am I the odd one? No tattoos, piercings, or hair coloring? Well, I do have a Jag. Hope it’s not a gateway crisis drug.

About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.

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