1 April 06

Bleeding Scrotum 2

During count, I sat down on the toilet and ripped the old Band-Aids off my scrotum. I applied the ointment and put new Band-Aids on.

At chow, I explained to my friends what had happened.
“Your story,” Weird Al said, “is meeting with considerable scepticism among inmates as to the alleged cause of the nutsack injury.”
“How vigorously were you scrubbing when the mole fell off?” Shane asked.
“I wasn’t scrubbing vigorously.”
“Your explanation ranks right up there with Dick Cheney’s quail hunt.”
“It seems,” Shane said, “you had a brain haemorrhage. You’ll probably get called to the psych now for suspicion of testicular self mutilation – an actual disorder: gender identity disorder.”
“How do you know about that disorder?” Weird Al asked Shane.
“'Cause I read about it.”
“Yeah right,” Weird Al said. “Just like he behaves normally in the shower. If I had a blog, I’d put a rival story about Jon and a loofah on it. My story would guarantee that the British authorities would never allow him back in their country.”

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