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Balls I

A Carboard Fortress in the Attic, Chapter 9


Something felt different.


“I think one shrank,” Harris said.

“Uh, yeah… they’re definitely different,”  Cynthia said.

“How do they even shrink?  Will it disappear?” Harris said.

“No, no…” Cynthia said.

“Will it dissolve away?  Will I be sporting one ball?”

“Let me check my phone.”

“A one bagger?  Just a single?  I’m going to have to move those runners along.”

“I don’t think they can shrink...”

“Jose Canseco.”


“Ozzie Canseco’s brother.”

“Even more of a who?”

“Jose Canseco got roided up, his balls shrank and he wrote a book about that.  It was about everyone else he saw or was pretty sure got shot up in the bathroom stalls of the clubhouses.”

“Clubhouses?  How old was this kid?”


“Aah… are you on steroids?”

“No, but I’m not very good at baseball, maybe I should be.”

“Okay,” Cynthia gave another squeeze to one of each.  “Could the other one have gotten bigger?”

“I am now realizing I don’t have a clue which one is normal sized.  Do you know?”

“I feel like you’ve logged more hours with them…”

“Maybe one is getting smaller and the other is growing.  He’s feeding off its little brother.  You’re in this together!  You’re supposed to be friends!” Harris scolded his testicles.

“I’m going to get you to see a doctor, then I’m going to call someone to look at your balls,” Cynthia chomped on a pen like a cigar and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Thanks Groucho…”

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