Read Online A Million Versions of Right by Matthew Revert - Free Book Online
Authors: Matthew Revert
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Wilkens, but you won’t be getting it back. Your scrotum is currently in use and I don’t foresee that use expiring anytime soon.”
Alice ’s arms were crossed tight as Mr Wilkens eyes widened in fright. He stammered for over an hour before the words began to swirl into sense.
“What do you mean they’re in use? What possible use could there be for such a thing? What have you done with my boys?”
“What have I done with your boys? What did you do to mine ? Both my sons lost their scrotums, thanks to your fucking demonstration! As a result, the only fucking ballbag they have between them is yours! My husband and I did the only thing anyone who cares for their children would do. We split yours up and gave them half each.”
It was too much to bear. Tears leapt out of Mr Wilkens in thick, salty jets, triggering accelerated salinity throughout Alice’s prize-winning garden.
“You venomous bitch! You had no right!” he yelled through the increasing torrent of tears.
Throughout this encounter, Chip stood at his bedroom window, watching it all unfold like a poorly made origami crane. He ran his fingers over the new half-scrotum, wondering if it was all worth it. He glanced toward the bookcase, where the bricolage scrotum he’d created for Allen now sat. There was no way Mr Wilkens was getting Chip’s half of his balls back but if he was willing to accept it, he’d gladly gift the fake one. From the window it was apparent that Alice was winning the argument because Mr Wilkens was dusting himself off and readying to leave. Chip felt compelled to open the window and yell, “Mr Wilkens, take this!”
The bricolage scrotum flew through the air, relinquishing several grapes from within. Mr Wilkens made an effort to catch it but grossly over estimated the force of the throw and wound up backing through a window across the road. The bricolage scrotum landed several hundred feet short of this mark, right next to Alice, who picked it up and moved toward Mr Wilkens. He was quite badly cut up. She thrust the scrotum toward him.
“Just take this and leave.” Mr Wilkens struggled up and clutched at the bricolage scrotum.
“What do you expect me to do with this?” With a weary hand he brushed glass from his heavily punctured face. “It’s not even real.”
“It’s real enough for you, Mr Wilkens. Now I’d like to ask you to leave my family alone,” said Alice solemnly, not giving an inch of ground.
He massaged his temples, coughed up a few more dead moths and gave in. He feebly stuffed the bricolage scrotum down his slacks and began to limp home. This thing doesn’t even look slightly real , he thought to himself, utterly dejected and spent.
* * * * *
The children of Yandish Muff poured into the auditorium, taking their seats and chewing on strips of carpet. The resultant hubbub was understandable. Few children in the room knew what they were about to see. They’d only been told it was important. The weight of expectation, mixed with the rush of missing class, filled them with bowel releasing levels of nervous excitement. Several dozen children had already broken their feet after an impromptu game of ‘kick the wall’ broke out. It took the school nurse a good half hour to reinflate the pulped toes. When the children had grown weary of the carpet, they began chewing on each other in an impressive display of childhood savagery. Ears were torn off, skin stripped and in general, a right old mess was made. The school nurse rolled her eyes, hitched up her sleeves and began the thankless task of bodily reattachment.
Throughout the gory display, members of the tangential education board mingled with teachers in a V.I.P. area of sorts. They were all gloriously oblivious to the violent acts committed by their students. They snacked on crackers dipped in mashed gibbon and sipped from jam lids full of diluted bleach. All in all they possessed a general merriment bolstered by a sense of anticipation. The
Alice ’s arms were crossed tight as Mr Wilkens eyes widened in fright. He stammered for over an hour before the words began to swirl into sense.
“What do you mean they’re in use? What possible use could there be for such a thing? What have you done with my boys?”
“What have I done with your boys? What did you do to mine ? Both my sons lost their scrotums, thanks to your fucking demonstration! As a result, the only fucking ballbag they have between them is yours! My husband and I did the only thing anyone who cares for their children would do. We split yours up and gave them half each.”
It was too much to bear. Tears leapt out of Mr Wilkens in thick, salty jets, triggering accelerated salinity throughout Alice’s prize-winning garden.
“You venomous bitch! You had no right!” he yelled through the increasing torrent of tears.
Throughout this encounter, Chip stood at his bedroom window, watching it all unfold like a poorly made origami crane. He ran his fingers over the new half-scrotum, wondering if it was all worth it. He glanced toward the bookcase, where the bricolage scrotum he’d created for Allen now sat. There was no way Mr Wilkens was getting Chip’s half of his balls back but if he was willing to accept it, he’d gladly gift the fake one. From the window it was apparent that Alice was winning the argument because Mr Wilkens was dusting himself off and readying to leave. Chip felt compelled to open the window and yell, “Mr Wilkens, take this!”
The bricolage scrotum flew through the air, relinquishing several grapes from within. Mr Wilkens made an effort to catch it but grossly over estimated the force of the throw and wound up backing through a window across the road. The bricolage scrotum landed several hundred feet short of this mark, right next to Alice, who picked it up and moved toward Mr Wilkens. He was quite badly cut up. She thrust the scrotum toward him.
“Just take this and leave.” Mr Wilkens struggled up and clutched at the bricolage scrotum.
“What do you expect me to do with this?” With a weary hand he brushed glass from his heavily punctured face. “It’s not even real.”
“It’s real enough for you, Mr Wilkens. Now I’d like to ask you to leave my family alone,” said Alice solemnly, not giving an inch of ground.
He massaged his temples, coughed up a few more dead moths and gave in. He feebly stuffed the bricolage scrotum down his slacks and began to limp home. This thing doesn’t even look slightly real , he thought to himself, utterly dejected and spent.
* * * * *
The children of Yandish Muff poured into the auditorium, taking their seats and chewing on strips of carpet. The resultant hubbub was understandable. Few children in the room knew what they were about to see. They’d only been told it was important. The weight of expectation, mixed with the rush of missing class, filled them with bowel releasing levels of nervous excitement. Several dozen children had already broken their feet after an impromptu game of ‘kick the wall’ broke out. It took the school nurse a good half hour to reinflate the pulped toes. When the children had grown weary of the carpet, they began chewing on each other in an impressive display of childhood savagery. Ears were torn off, skin stripped and in general, a right old mess was made. The school nurse rolled her eyes, hitched up her sleeves and began the thankless task of bodily reattachment.
Throughout the gory display, members of the tangential education board mingled with teachers in a V.I.P. area of sorts. They were all gloriously oblivious to the violent acts committed by their students. They snacked on crackers dipped in mashed gibbon and sipped from jam lids full of diluted bleach. All in all they possessed a general merriment bolstered by a sense of anticipation. The
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