The Day After Betty

Hello, my name is Jason Haugh and for those of you who don't know, I write stories. Not anything that has any kind of point or over all message mind you. I write comedic fiction and stories based on my life experience with a comedic spin. "The boy must like comedy." you’re probably thinking. Well fuck you; I'm a man not a boy so get off my dick. Alright, so maturity has yet to fully develop but once this story gets started the reader will have to be asked to toss aside all maturity and possibly a few morals depending on how good of a person you are. Why, would be the immediate question that follows that sentence and why indeed. Well, the reason is this story has to do with Men’s genitalia. pause I'm not even going to try and predict what some of you are thinking right now so I'll just unveil my whole story premise right now. It's about the horrors of testicle pain and theamount of time to remedy said pain. It's a tale of suffering, of human understanding, and how funny someone's (even your own) suffering can be afterwards. So instead of just picking at this scab of a story and only getting bits and pieces at a time I say we rip off the whole thing and see if you like how it bleeds.

This story takes place in April of 2004 during the middle of the school quarter. I was in English Composition II even though I really didn't need the class but all my other options for my major were full. So I decided since I liked my teacher so much for Comp. I and I needed to be a full time student for insurance purposes I'd sign up for another ride with English requesting the same teacher. During the first part of the quarter the teach had everyone write a three to four page story about a personal experience. I already knew this teacher was cool so I decided to write about something disgusting at first. I can't even remember what it was, all I know is that it made me giggle like a fiend for a day or two while I visualized all the horribly wrong things I could write about. But one day the idea just had a seizure dropping both of us to the floor. I lived but the idea was gone, leaving me with one day to find a new idea for my story and some funky smell that stayed in my head for a good four hours. Anyway, I thought that since I had already written a story about the cut in my hand that could have paralyzed my thumb, I could clean up my act and write a story based on the time when I took my mannequin to the back to school dance. Yes, I remember thinking, this will make me look much better to the teacher! Going from blood flowing out of my handgina to dancing with an inanimate object that I just so happened to fall in love with. So I did it. I drank two 40's of Colt 45 Double Malt and popped out the mannequin story I'm still slightly proud of.

After finishing the story I headed to the refrigerator for more drink and then hunted for a crowd of victims that WOULD hear my story. I found them in the basement "chilling" and informed them that it had just reached story time. "Stop all conversation," I said "you're about to be pelted with genius!" I read the story aloud and got good reviews from my friends. Then from upstairs I heard footsteps approaching. I ran upstairs doing the good ole plastered dance and found another friend. She listened to my story and said that it was her favorite one yet. Being drunk and receiving compliments at the same time pretty much gives you the superman mentality if none of you knew that. Well, I was definitely superman that night. I felt so proud of writing something good while drinking in such a short time that I just had to be superman! So for the rest of that night I saved any soul that was in trouble, comforted the sad and depressed, and I think I even saved some people from a burning house that I set on fire. I can't remember. But just like everybody else, superman can't stay up all night fighting random objects and causes so the good hero eventually went to bed. And that my friends is where this story really begins.

End Monday Night

Begin Tuesday Morning

8:00 A.M.

Blackness is everywhere! I can't see anything but there is this feeling, this strange urge pulling me, demanding me to wake up. It takes a couple of seconds for this to happen and I identify that strange feeling quickly. It's pain. But not just any kind of pain. This particular degree is getting stronger by the second, pushing all fogs from unconsciousness ruthlessly aside. "What's going on here?" I ask the ceiling. "What's the purpose of all this?" I receive no answers, just waves of pain paralyzing me for a few minutes. I notice that my testicles are the source of this pain so I use my surgeon hands to peel away my boxers for inspection. Mr. Right is ok but Mr. Left doesn't seem to be breathing all too well. He's also about double the size that he should be. I stay in bed for a good half hour suffering from this horrible agony. The feelings I'm receiving from Mr. Left are unfriendly and damn close to becoming an act of treason. It feels like a hand is inside the testicle, squeezing and twisting in throbs that start off as horribly painful and escalate to about three times the level of said horrible pain. I start to get up and notice that I can not walk comfortably in this state. Hell, I can't be comfortable at all in this state, but at least I can be more so by walking in a hunch back form. So, I get on my feet and hunch my way to the bathroom hoping that this terrible agony will flow out of me with the nightly urine. This proves to be a foolish display of optimism and Left Nut decides to gloat at my futile struggles by increasing the level of pain I am already in. It morphs somehow and takes me to some other plateau of suffering reserved for those sick parts of your body that just want you to know how badly they can make you hurt. And in my opinion the testicles have that special key to get into the top plateau where Hell seems like Dairy Queen on a hot summer day. Oh yes, I welcome Hell when it compares to the alternative of me still being alive with a ten pound testicle filled with creamy Pandora filling. A few seconds later I feel this horrible pain in the lower part of my back that makes me think of a water balloon stretched to the point of explosion. I wonder what exactly this thing could be but my hatred for God and the sack pain take away all thought. "Why do I deserve this?" I ask my supreme being but His only answer is to increase my discomfort.

HA! This is funny to me now because I never would have called that extreme agony I was feeling at the time discomfort. But enough description of the pain for now. If you still don't understand the state I was in then please gentlemen and ladies just imagine this for a second. You're outside naked, it's a beautiful day and all you have to do in your life is just live. Live to make yourself happy and help others around you. Well, I don't know if you want to help others around you but think about the naked part alright. Now imagine a football player coming your way with the look of rage in his eyes. He's twenty feet away from you, you have time to move but your legs won't respond. Fifteen feet away you think your foot just twitched. You might be able to avoid this. Ten feet and the football player increases his speed surprising you with a swift mighty kick to your reproductive region. But he doesn't stop there. He stands over you watching the look of agony on your face as you just lie there trying to breathe. Then he smiles as he sees the look of terror in your eyes as the realization comes to you that your arms aren't responding to the blocking movements that you want them to make. And that's when he kicks, again, and again and again. That might be at the level of pain I was at. Maybe add another kick just for good measure, not for exaggeration but for something you'll find out later in the story.

So yeah, I'm trying to talk to God but he isn't listening as usual or maybe I'm not listening to him because of all the "discomfort" that he has put me in. Either way you look at it not much is being accomplished by my hunching over the toilet speaking to a being that obviously likes you to solve your own problems. So I evaluate the situation taking my bank account into consideration and decide that I need some help. Hunching over to my cell phone I think about how one's life can be well and good one moment and the next, be a complete nightmare without even Freddy Kruger around to escort you to the next plain. God how I missed Freddy... So I reach my phone and dial my mother's work number. "Hall County Sheriff's Office" the receptionist says. "Penny Haugh please" I squeeze through clenched teeth. "One moment please." The click that signifies that one is on hold...clicks...and the hold music begins. It's some sort of elevator music on ACID testing my patience and sanity. The music is supposed to sound calming but instead due to the low quality of the recording or reception it sounds high pitched and wavy. As if it was being played on some low quality record player. Oh how I want to throw the phone into the wall after a few seconds of this but luckily my mother clicks on. "Hello?" "Hi Mom, I think I need to go to the Emergency Room right now!" I say with obvious "discomfort" in my voice. "Well, you know the Emergency Room costs more money than actually seeing a doctor don’t you? Are you sure you can't wait until we get you an appointment?" I almost drop the phone right there. I'm just flabbergasted that this woman would think that I would actually get up at eight o'clock in the morning, feel some discomfort that could be pain, and call her at work seeing if I could take my ass to the ER for Emergency assistance. "No I can't wait!" I reply to her in an impatient voice that is pleading for medical assistance. "Well, what's wrong with you anyway?" She asks. "Well mother, my left nut is two or three times the size of the right one and it hurts more than anything I've ever felt before in my life! I think I'm dieing!" I know this last line is a bit of an exaggeration but I don't think it matters since my fucking arm is shaking from the pain while I'm trying to hold the phone. "Alright, I'll talk to your father about this and see what he says." There is a pause after this sentence and I almost think in a fit of terror that the conversation may be paused for how long? A few minutes? An hour? TWO HOURS!! Will I be found dead on the floor by one of my roommates with blood and gore rolling out of my boxers? "Hey dudes, Jason's nut blew!" "Aw yeah check it out, his torn sack is stretched down to his fucking shin! Man this guy was weird!" Do I really want to be remembered as that guy who died from a nut burst? Or worse yet, do I want to be remembered as...weird? "Jason? Are you there?" "Oh yeah sorry, what did you just say?" "I said that you can go to the Emergency Room as long as Dan or someone else drives you." A ray of hope has just shot through the phone and onto my face. "Ok thanks mom I'll call you later!" I say in a rush and quickly hang up the phone.

I almost felt a childish joy spark up inside of me at hearing this. I mean having permission to go to the Emergency Room equaled the joy I felt of having permission to go to the carnival with friends when I was a kid. I was so happy!

"I CAN RECIEVE MEDICAL TREATMENT!" I shout to my quite house in a normal pitched voice that has enthusiasm stitched all along the sides. Finally, some progress. The first step in achieving my mission of relief is to wake up Dan so he clan play ambulance driver with me. Unfortunately Dan's room is upstairs which poses quite a problem for us temporary cripples. I can't yell upstairs because number one, I can't yell without feeling a wave of extra pain and number two, that bastard Dan doesn't wake up to yelling. He'll hear you come up the fucking stairs but he won't hear you yelling at him to get his lazy ass out of bed. So there is only one solution, I must somehow get up those narrow winding stairs. I hunch over to the foot of the staircase and place my right foot on the first step. Alright, everything is going ok so far. Let's try the other guy and see if we can get a good flow going here. The left starts to raise but it doesn't even get a foot off the ground before Left Nut demonstrates a small amount of his power. Nope, doesn't look like I'll be walking up these stairs anytime soon. I stand and stare at a stair before the air of inspiration is flared. Spiderman! I hunch down on all fours and do that nifty spidey walk up to the top of Dan's room and remain in said position. The stench of Dan hits my nose and I almost lose my balance and fall to an early non-nut related death. I regain my footing and start to call out to Dan. "Hey Dan, Dan! Dan wake up! Dan I need you!" Strangely at this I get a response. "whaaa?" "Dan, my left nut is two or three times the size of my right one. I'm in a lot of fucking pain man. Do you think you could drive me to the Emergency Room please?" It takes a few seconds but Dan does respond with a lot of effort. “Hhhhhhhhhhh (sigh)………….. I guess.” I’ve always thought that Dan has had a beautiful way with words and once again he doesn’t disappoint. “Thanks” I say then do a reverse spidey walk until I’m back on my feet, hunched over, and reeling from all the physical stress my nut has taken so far. It takes Dan a few minutes to fully wake up and change but we’re on our way soon enough.

In the car

Dan is obviously in the driver’s seat and I’m occupying the back so I can have room to keep my body up off the seats. The reason for this is there’s just no way I can sit down with the sack touching anything. My sensors inside are just too inept and aware. As we are heading towards the hospital the pain is slowly eating away at my composure. You would be able to tell if you were watching me because during the car ride I start to squirm and complain to the only person I can, Dan. Of course like most males Dan is slightly amused by my pain. I understand now because if it would have been him I definitely would have had a shit eating grin plastered to my face watching him squirm. But I can’t understand when I’m the one who is losing composure, will power, and patience. So I start to describe the pain to Dan and bitch about how he doesn’t know what I’m going through. I’m sure he doesn’t want to know but he seems to be a little more sympathetic once the description is complete. I think somewhere in that description I compare my pain with giving birth but a notch or two down because creating life just seems like pure hell to me. We don’t get to the hospital as soon as I would have appreciated since it is about 8:35 in the morning. And all these bastards on the road are going to work, school, or are just driving around trying to piss people off so they drive as slow and nonobservant as possible. By the time we do actually get to the hospital I’m in so much pain that if a nurse told me that the testicle would have to be removed I would have taken the first slice with a psychotic grin on my face and no regrets afterwards. I still agree with this deranged thought. Cut the bastard off if he’s giving you a hard time. That’s what I say. Once we are in the parking lot Dan drops me off at the entrance so he can find a place to park without me having to walk the extra distance. Isn’t he just lovely? Wouldn’t you just like to throw him on a bed and deflower his health with some sort of STD? I know I would. But yes, I wait for Dan at the entrance and we go in together towards the front desk.

We ask the elderly lady where the emergency room is. She looks at us and asks us what the problem is. I wonder why she doesn’t just look at me since I’m the sickly looking guy hunched over and walking like he’s on some sort of psychedelic drug. But that doesn’t matter, that’s just nerves acting up because of my horrible pain and if I haven’t mentioned yet (or if you haven’t assumed) my aching hangover from the night before. The situation is described to the elderly lady quickly and she lays down the law of the wheelchair. That’s right, this lady who has no balls wants me to sit in a fucking chair causing me horrible “discomfort” because it’s policy. Being one who actually wants to receive hospitable assistance I agree to this horrible request/demand and have Dan wheel me over to the E.R. Once there we have to wait about ten minutes before we are assisted. This time is spent with Dan watching the TV. and me squirming around wondering what is keeping me from feeling relief. “Can’t they at least give me some of those nice pain killers that they have stored up to high heaven back there?” I ask myself. “Yes they can” comes the unexpected reply from inside my head. “But you know they’re not going to give you shit until you’re examined don’t you?” “Of course I do” comes the sub thought that always seems to agree with me in the worst of times. “Then just tough it out until they come for you alright? You have to work with me man my left nut hurts too ok? I mean I just can’t have you complaining to me all the time! I’m a very busy part of you that oh look; the nurse wants us to follow her. Well don’t just sit here and listen to me Jason! Go! Go!...GOOOOOO!!!!” At this I snap out of one of my little “spells” and let Dan wheel me towards inspection. That’s right I let him wheel me! I could’ve stopped at any time if I really wanted to! But me stopping anything other than pain has nothing to do with this story. So we follow the nurse who leads us to a small check up room where she and another elderly woman inspect me. While the elderly woman is checking my heart rate and such the other is asking me questions about my “condition.” She asks me to rate the pain from one to ten. One being the lowest and ten being the “TEN!” I say before she can finish her sentence. She gets this little grin on her face that makes me want to kill an entire city of people who all look just………like………..her! Shortly after this the elderly woman tries to check my blood pressure but can’t get a good reading. “You need to sit still so I can get your pressure.” She tells me in a semi-stern matter that adds her to the city. “Alright” I say as I clench my eyes and keep my body still for an agonizing half century. Actually it was probably only forty to fifty seconds but somewhere deep inside of me, in that special place, I aged. I aged bad. Once all the formalities are finished I get wheeled to a hospital room where they tell me to change into a gown and lay on the hospital bed. “HA!” I think to myself. “Here come the drugs I so desperately want!” So I strip and get into the gown while Dan is turned around. This process goes off a little more complicated than it would sound. You just try and take off a pair of pants without lifting one of your legs off the ground. It’s one of those challenges they should have on Survivor or something. Kick a guy in the balls and tell him he has ten seconds to take his pants off. The man will fail. He has no hope of winning this match.

So I’m in the hospital bed still squirming around like a crack head waiting for the doctor when a new nurse comes into the room. The nurse pulls up my gown and feels around my sack inspecting it. Usually I would have erected from this or at least had some sort of perverse fantasy while she touched me. But instead of these things all I can think about is her not touching me anymore and sending me into Hell with each little squeeze or poke to Left Nut. She then tells me that before I see the doctor I’m going to need to get my sack x-rayed. “But before that here’s something for the pain. It’s valium.” “Well now that’s better” I think to myself while swallowing the pill. While waiting for some results from the drug I’m put on a moving hospital bed and taken to the x-ray room while Dan waits in the hospital room guarding my precious designer clothes. I watch the clock from the x-ray room and wait for the drug to kick in. I’m also waiting for the damn x-ray person to come in and x-ray my sack so I can get relief SOMETIME WHILE I’M IN THIS DAMN HOSPITAL! But yes, I watch the clock and after five minutes my vision starts to get blurry. The valium is kicking in causing me to be a little confused about the world and my surroundings. Unfortunately though, the drug does nothing for the pain and I’m left squirming in agony while blurry vision corrupts me for fifteen minutes before the x-ray tech comes in. She asks me how I’m doing and I reply with the obvious answer ‘not good.’ She then begins to ask me about college and all that sort of chit chat while lubing up my sack with some weird gel. The gel is luke' warm and would normally feel pleasant but today it does nothing for me. She then takes this device that resembles an electric razor and runs over my sack with it. Yes that’s right; she runs my sack over with it. Normally this would have felt pretty good (blush) because the device has a small vibration to it. But not today, today it feels like she’s sending electric shocks through that damn thing causing a horrible reaction inside the sack. But this can’t last forever and thank God it doesn’t! After about a minute of nonpenatration probing the x-ray tech is finished and I’m wheeled back to my hospital room. Dan is there waiting for me in a drowsy daze that causes concern from me. HA! Actually I don’t have any real concern for Dan at all, ever. So I’m put back into the non-mobile bed and left alone with my friend while we wait for the doctor to show up. While I have this time alone without any doctors or nurses to talk to it occurs to me that I should probably call work and tell them that the chances of me coming in tonight are zero to negative oh I don’t know, think of a number. So I ask Dan for my cell phone in my very classy goodwill slacks pocket so I can call work.

I guess you the reader should know that I did and still do work at Burger King. That’s right, fast food, fast fat, and fast crack. I’m not supposed to tell you but yes, if you knock on the back door of any Burger King in the right sequence someone will come out and sell you crack. Just a little fast food secret for you the reader. Actually, I think McDonalds sells crack too. At least I would assume so since the two corporations are always stealing each others ideas.

Anyway, Dan hands me my cell phone and I dial the number for work. It rings about four times before my top manager Mike answers the phone. Well, it would just happen to work out this way, once Mike says hello the doctor comes in with a nurse talking before he’s even in the room or even sees me. So I quickly hang up on Mike without saying anything and try to listen to what the doctor is saying starting from some midsentence. I don’t even know what’s going on but the doctor wants to see my sack so this at least brings me some joy. In the manner that I’m going to get some pain killers that is. Not that other thing you probably assumed. You know, the gay thing. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. –Seinfeld) So the doctor looks me over about the same way the nurse did. He touches and feels around Left Nut causing horrible ‘discomfort’ to my body. After this the doctor informs me that surgery is going to be required and asks the nurse for some kind of drug that I notice comes in a needle. I don’t know what it is but I damn sure know that if it’s coming from a needle it’s going to be better than this shitty valium I’m on at the moment. He tells me that if he’s going to give me this shot it’s going to have to be on my inner thigh close to my genitals. I say that it doesn’t matter where it is as long as it takes away some pain. The doctor looks at me in a way that’s sort of confusing. It’s either a look that says “are you some sort of junkie?” or “wow, are you in that much pain that you would let me put anything inside your system just for some relief?” I hope that he’s thinking the first because if a male is stupid enough to ask the second question in this situation then he deserves to be tied down and have his genitals lit on fire while an all girl choir is singing “Silent Night” over his high pitched screams of horror and searing pain. THEN he should be asked if he would like something to take the pain away. Actually, I don’t even know if the doctor is looking at me funny at all. I’m so far out of my element that he might be looking at me with concern and heart felt sympathy. But how the doctor is looking at me isn’t important. What is important is that I’m finally going to get some relief after being at the hospital for an hour and a half. Add the forty minutes or so it took me to arrange a ride and get to the hospital that’s about two hours. It doesn’t sound like much but going two hours with this pain and moving around irritating the hell out of it sure seemed like a lot longer than it really was. It seemed like Dante’s Purgatory acted out in real life. But yes, back to the actual story.

Before the doctor gives me the shot he tells me what the problem is with Left Nut. “It would seem” the doctor says “that your testicle flipped over inside the sack sometime while you were asleep causing a loss of blood flow.” “To put it bluntly, your testicle is suffocating inside your sack and needs to be flipped back around. This is actually fairly common with young males. The testicle can flip over when you’re asleep, playing a sport, climbing a ladder, or even jumping off a curb. You’re lucky you got here when you did young man. It only takes six hours for the testicle to die from loss of blood and from what I’m reading from your chart you have about one hour left. So let’s get you prepped for surgery huh.” The doctor then gives me the shot a few inches below my waist along the inner thigh. He then tells me that before surgery he’s going to have to twist Left Nut around so he can get blood circulating again. He doesn’t even wait a minute after the shot was given before his fingers are on Left Nut twisting him around in a 180. Of course the shot hasn’t even taken effect yet so I’m left with full awareness of what’s going on below my waist. It only takes about two or three seconds but I’m aware a lot longer than that. Once his fingers are on the testicle I grab the bed sheets with clenched fists while my lower jaw is seeing if it can shatter my teeth with pure force. Some kind of an alarm goes off in my head and somewhere in that special place deep down inside I hear a voice asking if there’s a fire. “How are we going to eat cookies while this alarm is going off huh Jason? My slippers came too life again last night and tried to kill me so that’s why the cookies are pink today. Were the slippers bunnies or piggies I can’t remember.” And just like that I’m thrown back into reality away from all that nonsense that resides in the special place. I look around the room and notice that the doctor is standing up. The nurse is beside him with complete composure while Dan is looking at me opposite the others in the room with a look of controlled horror in his eyes. I’m sure Dan wouldn’t have appreciated anyone doing that too him anytime soon. But I notice that I do appreciate it. I’m not sure if the pain killer is taking effect or if it actually is the sweet sweet flow of blood returning to Left Nut but I feel like a great weight has been lifted off my genitals. All the pain seems to be gone minus some throbbing from between my legs but this doesn’t even compare to what I had been feeling less than a minute ago. A great wave of relief washes over me and I can’t help but plaster a smile over my face showing some teeth and possibly releasing some drool. The nurse and doctor leave the room after telling me that someone will be in shortly to take me to surgery. After they leave Dan looks at me with a tired and questionable look on his face. “Does it feel better?” He asks with a grin forming on his face at seeing my glazed eyes. “yeahitfeelsrealgood” I slide out of my mouth with some drool to accompany it. “Ha! Well if it’s cool I think I’m going to go back home and pass out for a while ok. I’ll take your cell phone with me so just call when you need a ride ok?” I nod at this and watch as about three Dan’s leave the room. The last Dan almost seems to walk through the door and I ask myself when did Dan get superpowers. I then remember that he’s always had them and I just tend forget from time to time. I don’t know how much time passes before a nurse comes into the room and I don’t know how I get on the mobile bed but I notice that the ceiling is starting to move. “Wow,” I think to myself, “this is getting to be pretty fun now. I love the smell of this hospital, it’s so clean.” I’m then taken to a room full of lights and think to myself that if dieing is like this then I can’t wait to die! A needle enters into a vein on my left hand and I feel something cold enter my body.

I wake up in a different hospital room with a headache and an extreme case of drowsiness. “So……tired……” I think to myself before giving up the fight and falling back asleep. I wake up again in the same room and notice that the clock says three o’clock. Wow, I was out for awhile. The headache and drowsiness is toned down but still present. Confusion is all around me for the first minute before I remember about Left Nut. I reach down only to feel some kind of jock strap supporter stuffed with gauss encasing my genitals. I stretch the strap and spread the gauss so I can have a look at my package. “Ok let’s see what we’ve got h/AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” The scream inside my mind is more out of comic horror than real horror because what I see does sort of please my sick demented mind. I see my sack but it is no longer the color of living tissue. It’s black, blue, and grey all around making it look like some weird soft rock found on an alien planet. It’s also shaved so you can get an even better view without hair obstruction. And then there’re the stitches. They run through the middle of this foreign object that used to belong to me like a Mohawk with very thin spikes. The stitches come out of the soft rock about an inch each varying from shorter to longer. It really is a morbid sight for one to behold. A discolored semi-circular object with thread running down the middle adding that special touch of wrongness. “Wow,” I think to myself with a wicked grin “I can’t wait to show this thing off to everybody I know!”

Epilogue

I did in fact show a lot of people my balls during the next few days after that. I couldn’t help it! I even had a doctor’s note! Not to show my bruised sack but for percacet, which disregarding the warning I did mix with alcohol several times. I told this story in many different ways to many different people including my English Comp. II class. None of them saw my balls though. Unfortunately for my coworkers at Burger King I can’t say the same. But what can I say for myself? My medication took some of my self-control, the hospital took most of my modesty, and God well luckily God didn’t take anything this time. He just gave me a discolored genital bag to play with for about two weeks. But for the next week or two I did have to walk with my legs spread and my knees barely bending bringing attention to myself anywhere I went. The stitches did eventually disintegrate and I am now a proud owner of a cool scar going down the middle of my sack. This is the end of my story and I hope I never have another story like it. Farewell readers and to all you men out there, I hope I didn’t scare you too much, but remember, this could happen to you at anytime, anywhere. So be warned and be prepared; for the worst pain of your life to hit you at any second. Because in all reality……it could. The End