Letter to a Ballsy Guy

I saw you today on the way to church. You were driving a flatbed truck with a small truckster on the back. There was nothing remarkable about you, or the truck, or the truckster. In fact, I barely registered your presence until one of my children asked what that red thing was.

You had a lovely pair of imitation testicles in bright red rubber dangling from the hitch of the truckster. I snickered to myself and glanced at my 10-year-old, who also had a knowing smirk on his face. I answered that yes, those were what they appeared to be, and no, I had no idea why men thought they were funny/cool/necessary.

As for the two three-year-olds at eye level with your set-up, I couldn't even begin to explain the situation to their satisfaction. Instead, I got to spend the rest of the drive trying to change the subject so that it would not be on their minds when we got to church.

So thanks for the laugh. I did appreciate the irony and the sly sense of humor. The evidence of your complex hanging in the face of two kids with a lot of curiosity and a still-developing sense of appropriate subject matter, not so much.

Signed,
A fellow driver with issues that are better left unexamined

P.S. I guess if you have to have them, red is better than blue!