Notorious Crime Boss Likes Your Balls

The atmosphere is thick with testosterone and violence.

Ramon El Bastard sits behind his desk. Henchmen surround him and you. He leans back in his chair and inhales deeply on his fat cigar. His cold eyes are fixed on you. Silence and cigar smoke hang in the air.

He lets out an extravagant laugh, his henchmen join in.

“I like your balls.”

You relax. You’re relieved that he’s not going to shot you, but confused. Were your pants that tight? You look down, there’s a bit of a bulge but nothing so anyone would notice.

“I’m sorry. You like my…my balls?”

“Yes. You have big balls. I like that.”

As far as you’re aware they’re pretty much average. It’s not really something you’ve ever really looked into, though. How would you know? Perhaps other men check each other’s balls out in the gym. You certainly don’t. Okay, a cheeky peak at a penis, perhaps, but everyone does that. Balls though? No.

This is not going the way you thought it would.

“You like big balls? And you think I have big balls?”

“Yes. I like your big balls,” he laughs. His henchmen laugh. Everyone is laughing at your balls. You’ve had better days.

“Okay. Well, then. I’m sure your balls are very nice and big as well.”

He slams the desk – “Leave us” – the henchmen file out.

“You break into my compound. On your own. You come into my private quarters. You look at my papers. My business. That takes balls. Big balls. I like your big balls.”

“Oooooh, I see. So, it’s a metaphor, when you talk about my balls, you’re really talking about my courage, my bravery.”

“Your craziness.”

“Yeah, I think mainly bravery.”

“No, my friend, I mean your craziness- wait, did you think I meant your balls balls? Your testículos?”

“Well, obviously. Why would I think you meant anything else? You’re talking about my balls, why would I think you meant anything other than my balls? You know, maybe in a heightened situation like this, you should be a bit more precise in your language and say you admire my bravery.”

“Craziness.”

“Bravery but…whatever.”

Silence. You hear a bird squawk in the jungle outside. El Bastard’s eyes narrow. He puffs on his cigar.

“I said you have big balls.”

“Yes, you said I have big balls and I was confused because I don’t think they are. They might be. I mean, I’ve never really considered it before. You don’t, do you? They just hang there and do what they’re supposed to do and that’s really all I’m bothered about. But maybe they are big.”

“No, I don’t think they are so big.”

“But you said they were.”

“Yes, but that was when we were talking- that was when it was a metaphor. I don’t think your real balls are big.”

“I think they might be. I mean, you noticed them.”

“No, I didn’t notice them. I don’t notice men’s balls. It was a metaphor. I can’t believe you don’t understand metaphors. You are some kind of top police agent guy and you don’t even know what a metaphor is. You make me crazy.”

“Or…maybe my balls only seem big to you because you have quite small balls.”

His face visibly reddens. His jaw clenches. He clearly doesn’t care for your suggestion about the size of his balls.

“I HAVE ENORMOUS BALLS. HUGE BALLS. I HAVE THE BIGGEST BALLS IN THE WHOLE OF CIUDAD DE MÉXICO. LOOK!”

He unbuttons his trousers. As he does so, his office door opens and a henchman pokes his head into the door.

“Boss, is everything okay. I heard you shouting about your balls and-“

“GET OUT.”

The henchman starts to pull the door closed.

“No wait. Come back in here. Look at my balls.”

“Si, boss.”

“Are they big? Do I have big balls?”

“Si, boss. I think so, but-“

“BUT WHAT. YOU DON’T THINK I HAVE BIG BALLS?”

“No, I think so boss. I think you have big balls, but it’s hard to tell, perhaps if I could compare your balls with…someone…you know.”

You don’t like where this is going.

“You. Police agent man. Take off your pants. We will settle this balls thing.”

You go to protest, but the look in El Bastard’s eyes suggests you’d be wiser not to. You drop your pants. The henchman considers.

“I’m sorry boss, I can’t really tell because of- well, because of what is hanging in front of your balls.”

“Move that,” El Bastard goes to grab at your penis.

“Woah. Don’t grab me there.”

“Well, move it then.”

“I was going to move it. You don’t have to get all grabby.”

You and El Bastard stand next to each other both lifting your respective penises away from your respective balls.

After a few moments’ consideration, the henchman speaks.

“The gringo,” he quickly closes the door.

You smile at El Bastard as you start to pull up your pants. He shoots you in the face. Your last thought, as life drains from your body, is that there really isn’t any great advantage to having big balls.