It’s like Kafka… except in your pants

October 16, 2006

I had a a strange dream recently.

I was doing a self-exam when I felt something on my ballsack.

Oh no! It’s the cancer!

So I go to Doctor Fireman to get it checked out.

“It’s not a tumor,” says Doctor Fireman. “It’s a nipple.”

*blink* *blink*

“You’ve got a breasticle,” says Doctor Fireman. “You’ve developed a combination breast and testicle.”

“Is it contagious?” I say.

“No, but it exponentially increases your risk of breasticular cancer,” says Doctor Fireman. “Here, have this pink and orchid ribbon.”

“Can I…uh, like, feed babies with it?” I ask. “I mean, it is a breast after all.”

At this point in the dream Doctor Fireman pulls out a ferret from his coat, and shoots me in the face with it. Then I wake up in a panic, and I rip off my clothes to see if my balls have any nipples on them. And when I see that my nutsack is nipple-free, I start laughing.

The rest of the people on the bus, however, don’t find it very funny.

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