The WRITER'S Lounge

We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.”
“Do the dead frighten you?” Ser Waymar Royce asked with just the hint of a smile.
Gared did not rise to the bait. He was an old man, past fifty, and he had seen the lordlings come and go. “Dead is dead,” he said. “We have no business with the dead.”
“Are they dead?” Royce asked softly. “What proof have we?”
“Will saw them,” Gared said. “If he says they are dead, that’s proof enough for me.”

The Scent of My Balls

I love my balls. So I smell them everyday. It's like bacon wrapped on sausage beans. Maybe my balls won't love me back, but my own affection for my balls is true. As true as frozen coconut on sinsacks would be. I traveled seas far and wide just to eat my balls everyday. One hotdog cart full of my balls standing there. The bartender had some unhealthy affection for my genitals, so he ate them everyday until his shape being similar to my genitals. It's true, because I told you so. Believe me, I like you. Even if I lie to you, it's gonna be the truth, always forever, in the name of love.

My balls was an elephant who traveled eleven seas searching for his genitals. I didn't really care at first, but my balls insist on taking me with him throughout the journey. I like the way he moved his body, similar to a pregnant scrotum. I always adore how he ejaculated jelly beans each time he went seasick. At one time, he consulted the ship's captain and they had orgy sex down the storage room. When things calmed down, I checked it to see it being filled with the stench of naked men, naked women, and naked hermaphrodites, also tentacle monsters and asexual molds.

You can say, all my sexual fetishes could be summed up with just that one peculiar sproingy smell down the storage room. So I eventually masturbated 'til my genitals were thrown out of the sea. Doesn't matter, got one hundred thousand replacements. So I masturbated again and the captain ate my genitals as soon as he opened up the door and saw me whacking off my scrotum. He said my scrotum taste like bacon, the same way with how he eats the genitals of my balls everyday until he becomes addicted to it.

I say, why don't he try mutilating his balls everyday, make a meatball spaghetti and serve it to everyone on the deck. He was really happy that he could have something happy. That night we had dinner consisting on the captain's balls. Unfortunately, his face is now filled with his balls so he couldn't see us until we ate his balls straight from his face while singing the national anthem of our respective nations backwards. I guess we also want to invite satan so he could also eat spaghetti together with our balls.

Satan kinda goes in our company seeing as he had lots of lesbian hermaphrodites at hell that's filling up his place. He says: the genitals could reach one hundred thousand kilometers, even though, while it's settled down, it's only fifty nanometers. It's making the hell filled with genitals and Satan wants to listen to some emo rock songs instead. We played our respective national anthems in rock and roll tune but Satan cried to the point he start cutting himself.

The captain threw off his balls twice the light speed and it caused Satan to become unconscious. Eventually God went to pay a visit, and he simply took Satan back to University in order to earn a doctorate degree about utter nihilism. I said, we won't let you God, you ain't taking Satan back except you award us all with a gang full of hermaphrodites. So he reluctantly gave us hermaphrodites for the night. I guess that day we wished we didn't make a wish to God—he simply screws up everything.

Our assholes, vaginas, mouths, and even ear and eyesockets had never been so fucking sore. Maybe it's my fault after all, it's everyone's fault too for agreeing with me. I don't know, it's just probably not my fault at all. So with the hermaphrodites gone it's time for us to breathe a fresh air at the break of dawn. It's not all that simple since we've got to eat all of the leftover balls. So where the heck are my balls?

It's there. Playing hookey with Satan at the University. When God took Satan back, he simply hitch hiked on the cloud lord's party van because he was bored with us all, especially me. So my balls ascended to heaven, and now I'm still here, recuperating from his lost by rekindling the smell of my own balls.

End.