My dear, sweet, succulent Timothy.
Twas an eve like any other at the Antelope Mild Wing establishment. However, with the weather cold and the crowd dwindling, morale was quite low. To solve the issue, the manager called the team to the back of the restaurant for a meeting. “Alright guys, whoever creates the most innovative, tastiest new wing flavor gets a free t-shirt.” He sent us on our way to mull over our options. I was three steps ahead. Instead of inventing a new flavor, why not just introduce a new food altogether? I eyed the deep-fryer; I put my hand to my gonads, like peanut butter and jelly, it just clicked. Sauntering into the kitchen, I slipped the cooks $20 bills and asked to be allowed to fry up some dinner. Little did they know that my tender procreative organs would soon be submerged in oil. Seizing the sharpest kitchen knife, I squealed bloody Sriram and chopped off my testes in one swift motion. The blood was gushing everywhere, so I got a small vat and salvaged it to be saved for later. I let my testicles fry for a minute, removed them from the oil, and spun them in the new sauce; my own damned blood! I was losing a lot of blood and my sight was foggy, but I knew what I had to do. I presented my testicles as an appetizer to my table of unsuspecting husband and wife. They bit in. Fibers and blood squirted everywhere. The woman vomited. The man called my manager over. I was fired on the spot and arrested fifteen minutes later. My manager canceled the event and used the t-shirt prize to halt my bleeding. So, in a sense, I sort of won the contest.
Artwork by: basper01
Originally published at deartimtheblog.tumblr.com.
