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pain he was about to experience.
    “Don’t we at least have a balm we can put on it?” he pleaded.
    “I’ve already told you, NO FUCKING BALM!!! Just sit still and I’ll be finished before you know it. It’s just like tearing off a sandwich only in this case we’re stapling foreign junk to your crotch stump.”
    There was something reassuring about these words as they draped over Allen’s trembling body. They calmed him inexplicably. The burning wet pain abated and his eyes opened bravely. He thrust his crotch out and averted his eyes. I really don’t need to see this , he thought. Chip steadied himself, stapler in one hand and Mr Wilkens’ scrotum in the other. It’s all a matter of angles , he told himself as he lined up the scrotum with Allen’s bloody crotch. The scrotum was placed roughly in the position one would expect to find a scrotum. He slammed the stapler down with purpose, securing the junk loosely into place. Allen emitted a horrific howl which caused electrical interference in the surrounding ten block area.
    “You sack of tits!” cried Allen. “This feels particularly unpleasant.”
    “Stop your bitching. I got it on didn’t I?”
    It hung blackened, lifeless and slightly off centre, but Chip was right; Allen had a scrotum once more.
     
    * * * * *
     
    “We’ve received some rather illuminating reports about a demonstration you have planned for your grade four students next week, Mr Wilkens.”
    Mr Wilkens entered defensive mode and summoned up all the rants and speeches he had within. Internally he was composing the most appropriate line of response.
    “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Mr Wilkens?”
    The board of tangential education sat before him, overbearing in height and number. Why must they insist on such implausibly tall chairs , he thought, their intense scrutiny still directed toward his diminutive frame.
    “First let me explain my motives, ladyfellows and gentlehaps of the tangential board. Who among you can honestly proclaim to remain unaffected by the dismal affront to anatomy that is the scrotum? Have you not caught glimpse of this putrid appendage and retched in disgust? Have you not questioned nature’s agenda and asked yourself why we haven’t been afforded the dignity that would accompany the internal concealment of the scrotum? Well let me tell you something, I have! Not a minute goes by where I don’t question this pernicious infliction wrought by an unjust biology.
    “My argument isn’t just a question of dignity. This dilemma extends into the realm of aesthetics and the search for and preservation of beauty. How can such beauty be preserved and celebrated when it is wrought impotent by the very nature of the putrid scrotum? I don’t assume that a meagre demonstration can eradicate this disease but if I can instil within these children a necessary level of revulsion, then I have made an important step toward a scrotum-free future for all of us.”
    Mr Wilkens finished his rant, inhaled some much needed oxygen and coughed up a few hopelessly flapping moths, much to the surprise of the tangential board. Silence permeated the room, which caused Mr Wilkens some considerable anxiety. When the silence eventually broke, it was due to laughter wafting over from members of the board. Mr Wilkens took a defensive step backward and prepared the muscle contortions required for an effective scowl. The man situated on the highest chair finally spoke up.
    “Mr Wilkens, I can see you’re very passionate about this particular issue and rightly so if you ask me! The scrotum is putrid, as you suggest, and I can think of nothing better than instilling this reality into the minds of babes. We called you here, Mr Wilkens, not because we want to forbid the demonstration, but because we would like an invitation ourselves. We feel somewhat miffed that you never thought to ask.”
    A smile replaced the impending scowl as Mr Wilkens said, “Come one, come all!”
    Joviality