In less than 12 hours, I’ll be having surgery for the big ‘V.’
I’ll have to admit that I’m a little shook.
I mean some dude is going to be putting needles, and scalpels and heat…down there.
In a place that none of the aforementioned implements of torture should ever be.
It’s necessary. (Child number 4 was…how do you say…an accident.)
I’m trying to pyche myself up.
You see, back in December, when I had my original consultation, I thought I had more time.
The baby wasn’t here.
Wifey hadn’t healed up.
I could talk about ‘The Procedure‘ in a far-off, abstract way.
But in less than 12 hours (did I tell you that it’s happening in less than 12 hours?) some man in scrubs and rubber gloves will attempt to stop the flow of spermatozoa from my gonads.
I’ll plant no more seeds.
Build no more ‘lil Chukumbas.
Cease contributing to the world’s overpopulation.
I’ll be sterilized.
Not to say that there aren’t positives to having your faucet turned off.
For example, I’ll be able to run up in wifey whenever the hell I damn well please.
Bareback. Thank you very much.
AND if I ever slip up and fall into some booty that’s not the wifey’s, I’ll never have to worry about paternity tests, “cause I’m shooting blanks Maury!”
So there is an upside.
But I can’t help thinking about the words of my sadist, I mean ‘doctor.’
“Some guys syncope, at the mere thought of having the procedure.”
Syncope? C’mon dude, plain english! (Syncope=pass out)
Didn’t you take a Hippocratic oath? You monster!
Oh, so you’re saying I’m a punk?
But….as I sit here, thinking about the fact that:
1. Someone is going to stick a needle in the vicinity of (or God Forbid, IN) my balls; and then
2. That same someone is going to take a scalpel and make an incision (forget the pleasantries – CUT) my nutsack with said scalpel; and then
3. (without skipping a beat or allowing me to recover from the unadulterated trauma of items 1 & 2 above) pull my vasa deferentia from said incision, sever and seal them (with FIRE); and then
4. Stitch up the incision with another needle.
Perhaps I am feeling a wee punk-ish.
But I shall remain undaunted!
I’m just writing this post for your entertainment…
I don’t REALLY need to get psyched up…
I’ve got this in the bag…
I’m Nigerian damn it!….
We chase lions and kill food with our bare hands!…
What’s a little needle, knife and heat going to do to a straight Mandingo like myself!?…