I woke up with a pain in my butt. More correctly, I woke up this morning with a royal pain in my black ass. That my ass is black is no news, no big deal in fact. At least I am better than Jack. Jack’s case is hopeless because his ass is worse than black. His ass is burnt, and there is nothing he can do about it. That is his lot. But I should be fair to say Jack was not born with a burnt butt. Like many of us in this part of the world, where the sun shines with fury all through the year, Jack was born with a black ass, my supple, spotless, shining kind.
Many years ago when we were teenagers, more lighthearted and very adventurous, we learnt in Biology class that a man’s ass has a generous deposit of adipose tissue, that what gives it its suppleness is the abundant fat the body stores there, as is in a lady’s breasts. We were curious and skeptical, which made it even more difficult to accept that underneath our black asses was some mashy, light-yellow butter that might go down well with bread. So we decided to see for ourselves and get it done with once and for all.
The three of us, Jack, Pat and I, had a tough time in deciding how to ascertain what we learnt in that Biology class. After considering many options, we were finally left with two: to suck out the fat with a syringe or to heat someone’s ass until the fat melted, having heard that fat resolidifies. But nobody liked the syringe idea, not even Pat who brought it up. Nobody wanted their ass on fire, either. We would have forgotten all about it, perhaps buried it with many other unfinished projects that littered our puerile minds, but for a question. Of the three of us, who had the largest deposit of fat in his black ass?
Pat and I already had bragging rights, something on which we could pride ourselves. I was the tallest, with long, sprightly legs that depressed my friends every time we sprinted. Pat could move his ears, a knack with which he courted attention whenever he saw fit. As for Jack, well, let’s say he was useless in life, if you know what I mean. Jeez, he couldn’t even fart noiselessly! Thus, one would understand why Jack was so desperate to score a point. Jack was finally going to prove his worth by showing us that he had the largest deposit of fat in his black ass. We brought him a gas stove to put his ass on fire, while we stood by to watch the fat in his black ass melt and resolidify.
When he was done, we were positive we wouldn’t have to drag this bragging right with him, definitely not when it came with a burnt ass. I was pretty cool with my long, sprightly legs that depressed my friends every time we sprinted, and Pat said he was all content with his moving ears with which he could court attention whenever he saw fit. Jack had gotten his bragging right at last, with a burnt ass as a mobile testimonial.