A Tale of Two Balls

When my husband and I bought our first house, I kept noticing this weird smell around the toilet in the master bathroom. It was familiar but I couldn't quite place it. Until one day when I realized the smell was that of sweaty balls. Yes. You read correctly. The toilet had one of those plasticky toilet seats and we had intended to change it but hadn't done it yet. And THAT was where the smelly, sweaty balls smell was coming from. The guy we bought the house from, Ted, was a real cocksmacking shithead bastard old-ass motherfucker. As you may have deduced, I didn't care for him very much. This man whom I loathed and who made me insanely angry SO many times while trying to buy this stupid house, had managed to stick it to us one last time with his nasty balls.

But what I really wanted to know is HOW the smell was on the toilet seat. I asked my husband if his balls touch all over the toilet seat, either inside or on it or whatever and he looked at me like WTF? Of course not. But clearly Ted, of the smelly balls, was doing SOMETHING to have left his stink all over the toilet seat. What I also want to know is how his sweet wife Regina put up with it. Didn't SHE notice the stinky sweaty balls smell? Clearly, for his ball smell to have permeated the plastic toilet seat, it had to have been BAD. If your man had balls that smelled that bad, wouldn't you be concerned? At the very least, wouldn't you have bleached the holy hell out of your cheap piece-of-shit plastic toilet seat every day? If it was me, I would have bleached Ted's balls every day, too. Suffice it to say, we went and got a new toilet seat the instant we realized the source of THE SMELL.

Incidentally, after a few months of living in the new house, a check arrived for Ted from the IRS, in an amount almost equal to the amount of money he had screwed us out of (did I mention that he royally shafted us, in addition to subjecting us to THE SMELL?). It was some kind of refund for overpayment. Instead of forwarding it to him, we ripped it up into tiny pieces and ceremoniously flushed it down the master bathroom toilet. Yes. Bad karma. I know. It was worth it. My only regret is that he probably never even knew about it.