A sliver of sunlight fell from between the clouds and lit upon the truck testicles. Cody brought up his hand to shield his eyes from the glare. The clouds converged and like a spent flare the balls dimmed. Cody knelt and peered below the tailgate for a better look. The truck testicles swung slightly; not for the first time that day Cody regarded them.<\/p>\n
Aesthetically they were impressive; he didn\u2019t deny that. The way the flesh stretched smooth and taut in places, yet hung like wrinkled jowls in others, was proof of the exceptional craftsmanship. The fine detail, the rendering of the bulging veins, evoked the hyper-realistic sculptures of Ron Mueck; more akin to a piece of artwork than a mere truck accessory. Yet what was being conveyed by the balls? What was\u2014to use Jean Baudrillard\u2019s terminology\u2014the symbolic value of the truck testicles? Of that Cody wasn\u2019t certain.<\/p>\n
It was a matter of proportion. Up close, they looked engorged, swollen and meaty, like they had some real bulk to them. But if he stepped back, added distance, the mass of his truck swallowed them up. Made them look puny.<\/p>\n
Cody thought of his own father, and then the father of modern linguistics, Ferdinand de Saussure. Saussure had spoken of the relationship between the signified and the sign; the thing itself, and the often arbitrary meaning assigned to that thing. But Cody posited if people couldn\u2019t see the thing, the nards, then the meaning was inconsequential.<\/p>\n
When he closed his eyes and pictured the perfect set of balls\u2014imagined the ideal form\u2014the balls were always dangling. But his truck was jacked so high that the balls only hung down to his chin. Cody knew from Plato\u2019s Theory of Forms, that it was impossible to recreate an ideal, to manufacture a flawless form. The nuts could only be a pale facsimile of the form, and not sadly, often tragically, the form itself. And yet he couldn\u2019t help but think, it\u2019d be nice if they dangled just touch more.<\/p>\n
When he was younger, Cody had a pet hamster, Biscuit. Biscuit had massive balls. Almost painful looking. While musing over the products in the truck testicle catalog Junk, Cody compared them to Biscuit’s balls. There was much to consider. Different brands. Sizes. Various color schemes. Eventually he settled on a set of Nutz\u00ae, size XXL. He fell in love with their massive size and took comfort in the Nutz\u00ae company\u2019s climate pledge and dedication to renewables. Yet he wasn\u2019t convinced that the balls were big enough for the task at hand.<\/p>\n
He also wasn\u2019t certain the chrome plating had been a prudent decision. On the truck testicle enthusiasts forum, Alpha Testes, where users debate everything from swing rate to hypothetical seminal fluid volume, there was a consensus that the chrome plating was essential. Cody decided to spend the extra for the add-on. At the time, it did seem like a sagacious choice, even if it would tack on an extra week for delivery. He eagerly tracked the package via text notifications. When the truck testicles finally arrived, he excitedly ripped open the box. But when he freed the nuts from the packaging and cupped them in his hand he felt disappointed. Even in the half-light of his kitchen he could tell the balls were shiny to a fault. Like the more playful work of Jeff Koons they gleamed and shimmered. Cody held them aloft and wondered if the balls were too lustrous\u2014if despite their lifelike form, they wouldn\u2019t be taken seriously.<\/p>\n
Worst of all he feared the balls were hazardous, that it was dangerous for others to drive behind his truck. The irregularities on the balls, the corded muscle, the protruding veins, combined with the smooth metallic surface, reflected and amplified headlights. Just two evenings ago a Honda Civic trailing behind him had suddenly swerved and came to a stop in the middle of the road. Was it the blinding balls or had a raccoon bolted out? He couldn\u2019t be sure.<\/p>\n
It had crossed his mind to muddy the nuts somehow. But that didn\u2019t seem right. He winced at the thought of grinding off the chrome.<\/p>\n
He hadn\u2019t anticipated this. The balls should have been a fairly straightforward simple affair. What he had wanted was a big set of bull balls for his truck. Was that too much to ask? He didn\u2019t think so. And yet, here he was. It was ridiculous.<\/p>\n
Cody stood and smoothed out the huge Grab Your Gonads: Check for Testicular Cancer vinyl sticker that covered his tailgate. He shrugged his shoulders, and sighed. Gave the balls a playful backhanded slap. They swung back and forth as he rock-climbed up the side of the truck. Settling into the driver\u2019s seat, he adjusted the rearview mirror and tried to smile; stop worrying, he told himself. When he turned the key the truck gave a deep throated grunt and shuttered to life. The diesel engine rumbled and he looked again at his reflection, now vibrating in the mirror. Stop being paranoid, he told himself, the size doesn\u2019t matter, and so what if they do sparkle. If your dad were still alive he\u2019d be proud; the advocacy campaign, the banner, the balls, were all in his memory. And maybe the balls were absurd, maybe they weren\u2019t an ideal form, but who knows, he thought, pressing down the clutch and shifting into first, just maybe someday they\u2019ll save someone.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s just it. Guy like that,\u201d Joe paused. They were sitting inside his ice shanty, warming up their mittened hands over the old cast iron stove; killing time until they saw a tip-up flag. \u201cI mean, my dad was a bricklayer. Put in a lot of hours during the week. He didn\u2019t go hiking. He didn\u2019t have a canoe or anything like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, I couldn\u2019t picture him in a canoe,\u201d Sam shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cRight. Stuff like that he didn\u2019t do. Not sure how my Mom convinced him to go. But she did. I remember it was warm for fall. We drove out to Old Creek Bluff. Ever been out there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cParked out there a time or two in high school. Never went up though.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you know the parking lot right? That\u2019s where the trail starts. Now, my dad, I mean I wouldn\u2019t say he had a temper, but you didn\u2019t want to make him mad..\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI hear ya. Not a guy that size.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight. In the car ride there, my dad had this look on his face. Like someone had pissed in his Cheerios. You know? Then, as soon as we get there, he and my Mom start stepping on each other\u2019s tails. I was just a little beeler back then. So I don\u2019t know what they were going on about. But as we\u2019re heading up the trail, they start arguing more and more. And here I am, out front, leading the pack, so to speak. Going up this steep windy path. No railing or anything. Rocks and twigs all over. Back then, these huge pine trees grew right up against the side, you could reach right out and grab a branch if you wanted.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWouldn\u2019t that hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGrabbing a branch? With the needles?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m just trying to set the scene here. The branches were close. OK?<\/p>\n
\u201cGot it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was beautiful. And there were all these other families hiking too. I remember having this thought, like maybe I had been missing out all these years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf it makes you feel any better, my old man didn\u2019t take me hiking either. He might tell me to take a hike, but that\u2019s not the same.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight. So it was weird to see all these other families out there. But it was hard to enjoy the hike. I mean here we are, plodding up this path, and my parents are howling at each other. It wasn\u2019t exactly peaceful or anything like that. And that bluff is pretty high, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d say.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell imagine walking up the damn thing? So it took a while. And as soon as we get to the top, my dad, he turns a few quick circles, like a dog about to plop down, and then starts hurrying back down the trail. Mom didn\u2019t get to enjoy the view or anything. Must have been nice too. With all the leaves changing color. Anyway, we start heading down, and they’re still going at it. I\u2019m in front, and they’re not watching. And I\u2019m getting bored. And I was thirsty too, right? But I don\u2019t say a peep cause their arguing. I don\u2019t want to make things any worse.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou gotta know when to keep your trap shut.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight. So we’re heading back down and I start throwing rocks over the ledge. I mean we\u2019re way up high now, right? And I start chucking these rocks over. Pebbles and small sticks, or whatever. But then I start pushing these bigger rocks. You couldn’t see them land, on a count of all the trees. But you could hear them hit. Whump!\u201d he slammed his flat hand on the wooden bench for effect. \u201cSo I started pushing over these bigger and bigger rocks. Whump! And I am like a bulldozer now, I can\u2019t stop. But then I start hearing this noise? What do ya call that, when you hear a voice bounce off something?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRicochet?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. That\u2019s not it. It\u2019s like when you shout your name. And you can hear it again and again. Christ, I can\u2019t think of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEcho?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere you go. Echo. So I can hear this noise. Funny thing is, at first I thought maybe it was wolves or something.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot many wolves around back then.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know, but it was almost like a howl. And I finally realized that it wasn\u2019t, it was screaming. People screaming. But it was echoing. The screams were like, I don\u2019t know, staggered because they were echoing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s pretty wild.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, I didn\u2019t know what to make of it. I mean what the hell is that? Then I hear a woman yell, \u2018Oh my God! Stop throwing rocks!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHoly shit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, well my parents heard it, too. That shut them up. They didn\u2019t say anything. They didn\u2019t have to say anything to me either. I certainly didn\u2019t throw any more rocks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn,\u201d Sam said, shaking his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe get down to the parking lot and it\u2019s complete chaos. There were these guys running around, I don\u2019t know, they weren\u2019t cops, maybe park rangers? There were a couple ambulances with their lights flashing. It was chaos. So this park ranger, he\u2019s wearing one of those wide brimmed hats, he runs up to my parents and asks if they saw anyone throwing rocks. They both shake their heads. Hadn’t seen a thing, they said. And we get in our car and leave. The whole ride home, no one said a word.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSounds like a long car ride.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was. But my dad and I\u2019ll never forget, he sort of put his hand on my Mom\u2019s. And they held hands on the way home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHmm. Doesn\u2019t sound like your old man\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s just it. It wasn\u2019t like him at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
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The truck testicles swung slightly; not for the first time that day Cody regarded them.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":19026,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[3130,27,712,2931,767],"class_list":["post-18551","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-balls","tag-fathers","tag-fishing","tag-hiking","tag-trucks","writer-richie-zaborowske"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18551","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18551"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18551\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":19029,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18551\/revisions\/19029"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/19026"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18551"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18551"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18551"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}