The Ranch Of Doom.

15/3/1926

Journal entry of Doctor Wolfgang Langstrom:- Department of Possessed Third Testicle of Satan. (DPTTS)

Day one. Sodomite Sanitarium.

It's finally found its way into our world...

To begin with it seemed like another case of abandonment. A plump pink mewling child found in a bin by a drunken Scotsman, who had mistakenly assumed it was a shaved dog, and had taken it to the local kennels looking for reward money. During the child's stay at the kennels, it became apparent to the staff that the presence of this baby was having a startling effect on the dogs. Indeed, every time it was thrown into a cage with an Irish Wolfhound, or Bull Mastiff, the dog would begin to cower and defecate. The staff quickly and reasonably came to the conclusion that the child was evil.
I was contacted in 1924 by the Mayor of New York to look into the case, and I made arrangements to have the child sent to me. I organized a cycle courier to collect him and eighteen months later (I'm in Alaska, the kennels were in New York) I took delivery of this strange baby, and upon examining his nut-sack, I found exactly what I had suspected all along... A third bollock pulsating with menace. Experts from all over the country were consulted, and they both came to the same conclusion, that it must be destroyed. "I'm not killing a small child again." I said to them, "I can remove the evil and it might go on to live a moderately normal life." "You can't!" They said "What if grows to love the company of other men?!" to which I replied, "If that happens my friends, then keep your Goddamned backs against the wall, and never, never! mention soft furnishing or ask for advice on fashion with anyone you don't trust completely." They labelled me a fool, and I got on with my terrible work.

Day 3

I removed the Evil Gonad. A procedure not attempted since the inquisition, using only my hands and teeth I went face to face with Satan, and tore the bastard asunder from his human scrote vessel. Curiously the baby did not scream, in fact it seemed to smile, but just to make sure, after the rituals had been completed and the priests had said their prayers, I took off my shoe and gently swatted him across the base of the neck to induce sleep, and then spend the next 2 weeks allowing the various parts of him to heel. I also needed respite. I'm a doctor Goddamnit, not a theologian. These constant battles with malevolent testicles was making me depressed, and I decided that this was going to be my final case. I was going to see that the child recovered, then hand in my notice, and set up a pineapple stand somewhere in the Yucatan Peninsula. That was when I got the news. "Doctor, Doctor! it's escaped!" screamed a nurse. "What the fuck are you going on about you crazy bitch? I'm reading the newspaper, get fucked." I said. She then became hysterical as most women do... "It's gone!!!" I sighed. "Ok, leave this to me. Tell me exactly what happened." (What happened next is not for the faint of heart, you should probably kill yourself...) She began to explain. "The Scotsman! He came back, the child came out of his deep sleep and shot up his kilt like a fly to a bug-light!" I had heard this going on, but thought I'd imagined the whole thing... Cries of "AAACHT, THIS WEE CUNT IS CRAWLIN INTO MA ARSE!" are not uncommon in this particular hospital. "Where is this Scottish bastard now?" I said, "He said he was going to force the child from his colon with Water Melon Mad Dog Twenty Twenty." The nurse told me, and suddenly fainted. I used my penis to clear her airways, then dragged her over to the side of the corridor. I can't abide fire hazards. I knew I was going to have to give up my dream of selling pineapples. My life was going to be dedicated to finding this small child before he could crawl into anyone else's shit box.

1943

Journal Entry of Wolfgang Langstrom:

I am no longer a doctor. We won't get into the reasons for this.

It would be 17 years until we met again, I was San Francisco making a living performing street abortions and frying donuts, often at the same time. Things were going great, then I saw him. Still plump pink and mewling, the child had called himself Jimmy and clad himself predominantly in sperm and leather. It was clear that he had embraced his nature as an evil homosexual. The Scotsman was with him, carting his distended rectum around in a wheel barrow like it was a bleeding elephants trunk. It was obvious to me then that I hadn't got it all... That some part of the third ball remained and that I was the only person that could do anything about it. I got my rivet gun and tin snips. No half measure this time I thought... I'll remove all his balls if it comes down to it! But fates twisted sense of humour found me deported, and on the sides of the Germans fighting against those English fucks in the 2nd world war. Every time I drove my nun-chuck into a face of an Englishman I imagined it was jimmy's testicles. Every time I somersaulted backwards over a member of the resistance and broke their neck, I imagined I was breaking jimmy's balls. It went on like this until I was finally captured and sent to England where I was absolved of all my crimes and was given a job as a pigeon fancier working for Hampshire County Council.
But my thoughts were still on Jimmy. 5,331 miles separated us, and I was becoming an old man. I knew that I was going to have to have someone else to pass my curse onto, someone with courage, dignity, and an incredible thirst, not just for knowledge, but also for every type of vodka.
I finally found that man in 1994. He had just run me over, and was berating me for damaging the car he'd just stolen. I got back to feet, and grabbed him by the face. I told him my terrible story. He laughed for 20 minutes, then calmed down. "I'll find this man Jimmy for you." He said, "But I'll need a shit-load of money and I don't work on weekends." I agreed to his terms.

I don't have long to live, but I know that I can die in peace knowing that Jimmy and his evil 3rd ball are not long for this planet. My protege who for some fucking reason he could never explain to me decided to call himself Sprinkles, will take my place. He will pester him online, he will at all times make fun of the amount of things that Jimmy can fit up his bum, and most importantly of all, he will document these encounters so that history will never forget the evil that can come from being born with a vestigial twin nestled between your wedding tackle.

To be continued...