The Scrotal Sector

“Walter’s Big Balls”
by Mike Jackson

To make friends when you get older you need a hook.  Almost like when you were a kid and someone in the neighborhood had a pool.  Everybody hung out at his house; he never had to work for it.  Now, some guys have a 60-inch plasma and the NFL Sunday Ticket, they make the best bbq, they have a country-club membership and get to invite a guest a couple times a month, they have something to catch your attention.  Me?  I have Walter.

The conversation usually ends up revolved around how I’m going to spend my weekend.

“Big plans?”

“The usual, have a few beers, watch a couple Cubs games, hang out with Walter.”

“Walter?”

“Yeah, my Great Dane.  Did I ever tell you about Walter?”

“No, 3 legs or something?”

“Even better, Walter has the biggest balls I have ever seen.”

“What?!”

“Seriously, they’re fucking enormous.  Stop by the house Saturday, we’ll have a beer.  He won’t mind the staring.”

“I’ll drop by, but I don’t think I’ll stare at the dog’s balls.”

“Oh you will, you will.”

Saturdays come and the scene is always the same.  Some guy my wife has never seen rings the door bell, six pack in hand and my wife shakes her head as she opens the door with a smile on her face.  She knows why he’s here.  He’s another guy I’ve told about Walter.  About his huge balls.  Later, after my new friend has left, my wife will always tell me, “stop bringing guys over to the house to look at the dog’s balls; it isn’t funny anymore.”

Of course though, it is funny and the new guy stares.  And says things like, “Holy Shit” and “I can’t stop staring.”  I always reassure them it isn’t them; nobody can stop staring at Walter’s huge balls.  They’re like a car wreck that way.  But like I said, nobody really has too much time anymore, so even though I’ve made lots of new acquaintances who’ve been nice enough to bring beer over, I have to keep trying to make a new friend, one who has a little more free time.  Even better if he has a wife that gets along with mine.  Then I won’t have to play golf alone on Sundays and my wife won’t be too upset that I’m missing for a few hours, because she’ll have a new friend too.

All thanks to Walter’s big balls.

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