By Gundhramns Hammer
April 23, 2014
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The secret project went sour. The key member of the research team had fallen ill with no possibility of getting well in sight.
It is ironic that he had found the way to the stars not with sophisticated quantum mechanics, astrophysics or fancy laser technology trying to pry open the fabric of space and time.
Sometimes scientists do not find what they are looking for when they are looking for it but when they are not looking for it.
And this time, the top scientist had found the key to deep space in a most simple way: Whilst he was in bed doing nothing but trying to keep sane in an insane world.
The pain was killing him. He had not been able to sleep
at all for a whole year. His teeth were worn out from the damn effort to keep
from screaming to the top of his lungs.
He was not only living in a starred hell because of the pain but
also because he was afraid that his doctor would eventually tell him that there
was no choice but to cut off what was making him see the Big Bang primordial stars
every single fucking and fuckless night of his infernal life.
Too bad that no other scientists had yet realised that this man had already a fully working gate to the stars.
His anal sphincter had seen its better days. It was also gone from the extreme force
exerted to it to avoid any screams coming out of his frosty mouth, for he did
not want to alarm his nosy neighbours who were always peeping into his secret
life.
Little did he realise that his living hell was no longer any secret. His
massive pants drying up in the backyard had aroused the curiosity of everyone
in the dumpy neighbourhood. They had already added two plus two.
Whilst sleeping, he was terrible afraid of crashing his most beloved treasure, his two big Fabergé eggs (Fig. 1). Any false movement in bed would strike fear and hopelessness in his heart,
apart from giving him a current of pain where ached him the most.
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| Figure 1. Dick Zweiballs´ most beloved treasure. Source: Google images. |
It is funny that his precious treasure was sort of a perfect match for his name: Dr. Dick Zweiballs.
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| Figure 2. The sperminator giving an ultrasound treatment to Dick Zweiballs. Source: Natural News. |
According to his own short way of thinking, he thought that by having his sperm cells hashed and fried he would become a sterile but still functional male and this way he could go around maximising his genes with his geneless glue gun without having to worry about getting pregnant any females.
But what appeared at the beginning to be a fucking good idea turned out to be his own worst nightmare.
The spermination backfired and Dick had landed with the prospect of having a future without any more prospects where he enjoyed the most prospecting.
Finally, one day, after having too many nights with no prospects, Dick gathered some courage and strength and decided to go and see a doctor.
This in itself was ironic since he was a doctor himself but could not treat his own star producing machinery, for he was after all an expert in the sky above his head.
Along his personal calvary, Dick had discovered that the only way to keep him from crossing the gate to the stars was to have his genital package put inside a wheelbarrow full of ice.
Since riding a car gave him excruciating pain, he decided to go to the hospital carrying his personal gate-to-the-stars package in a wheelbarrow instead (Fig. 2).
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| Figure 3. Dick Zweiballs goes to see the doctor. Source: joe.ie. |
After mounting a noisy révolu amongst the people who happened to see him as he pushed his two giant reproductive balls inside the wheelbarrow along the streets leading to the hospital, risking to be fined by the police for overexposure of what is definitely supposed to be hidden, Dick finally arrived at the clinic and could relax a bit. At least that what he thought.
Little did Dick know that his whole fucking universe was about to collapse once and for all unlike in the Veda traditions.
And indeed it collapsed, for the sperminating process was too far gone and had produced a massive formless mass of screwed up strands of infertile and useless DNA.
Dick´s personal gate-to-the-stars reproductive apparatus was cut off to prevent him from hitting the croaking line.
He went back home fully collapsed but for the first time in a long time, due to the pain killers he took, he went to bed with no worries in mind except a fixed idea of having no future with explosive novas in his real life.
All he could say was:
- Fuck the stars! and he fell asleep.
Out of this seemingly endless ordeal, Dick Zweiballs came out with two smashed Fabergé eggs and with neither captain, submarine nor missiles.
Dick´s universe was finished. No more Big Bangs nor possibilities of event horizons.
After a couple of years of unsustainable hell, this heavily sperminated man ended up in an asylum for crazy scientists.
For a long while Dick Zweiballs had a gate to the stars. But he also got more than he could handled with his "brilliant" idea of ultrasound spermination.
His creative sperminating eureka fucked him up. It totalled him alright.
It is clear that stars cannot bring you peace of mind unless you are ready for its infinite solitude.
