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Like a Bungee Cord to the Balls

We own what I affectionately call a “Redneck Pool” (above-ground).  Year three, it’s the best money I’ve ever spent, partially because pools are fun and partially because I love that my husband Mike is mortified every time we use it. When we float, lounging in our beverage chairs, he screams things like “I don’t know much, but I know I’m supposed to be floating in an IN-GROUND pool!” so the neighbors understand he is actually a prince cursed by a gypsy to live in a Maryland rancher.

This year, the pool cover lost its elastic and kept blowing off. We had two choices: Buy a new cover for $14, or buy a $25 Tub o’ Bungee Cords to secure the old cover.

Seems obvious, but two notes here:

  1. Mike loves bungee cords like some people love puppies.
  2. The bungees were Amazon PRIME and the cover was not.

A few days later, a daisy chain of ten colorful bungee cords wrapped the outer rim of the pool, turning it from Redneck Pool to Redneck Art.

Mike mocked me every time we secured our bungee cord centipede; I couldn’t do it without squinting in fear.  I knew one of the connections would give way. I don’t share Mike’s blind trust in all things bungee. I also don’t lose my mind if the cheese in my sandwich is on the wrong side of the meat.

Day three, one of the connections DID slip and the bungees exploded across the yard like a pack of deadly rainbow ninja worms.  One of the metal ends cracked across my thumb before settling in the bushes. It felt like what I would imagine a caning would feel like if I’d done something really stupid in China, instead of just doing something really stupid in my backyard. Mike took one in the thigh.

Both of us blurted something to the effect of “OW!” combined with an “F” word and started jumping up and down grasping at our parts. The house behind us operates as a makeshift nursing home and there is always an elderly person parked in a window watching us with interest, remembering what it was like to be a complete idiot. With this audience, our display might have been embarrassing, if we didn’t have large holly trees that constantly drop insanely pointy leaves. Whenever we’re outside, every other step is followed by a barrage of cursing and dancing. Screaming “FUH-OWW!” and rain dancing around the yard didn’t seem unusual to the old folks.

If I could go back in time, I know I would blow the opportunity on finding and slapping the people who planted those holly trees in our yard.

Panting through gritted teeth, Mike and I argued who had been more hurt. I already had a bruise on the meaty part of my thumb. Mike had a welt in the shape of a bungee end on his thigh.

Tie.

Idiots to the end, we tried again. One bungee had gone AWOL, so I went to get a replacement from the Tub o’ Bungees. Mike stood on the far side of the pool, his arms outstretched, holding each end of our bungee chain while I ran to the shed.

I had just started back towards the pool when they snapped. Again.

There was Mike, standing like a graceful outstretched bird, then a whipping noise, and then NO MIKE, as he doubled over and disappeared behind the pool.

All this happened EXACTLY the moment our neighbors pulled into their driveway, from which they can see our pool area quite well.

“Mike!” I called. “Are you OK?”

“Hi!” said the neighbor lady, peering into the yard and waving maniacally.

“Mike?” I tried again.

A strange grunting noise came from the other side of the pool.

“Hi!” neighbor tried again, taking her waving to the next level. I could feel the breeze on the back of my neck.

I moved a little closer to the pool and whisper-screamed in Mike’s direction.

“MIKE!”

*groan*

I thought about it a second and then tried another tack.

“Balls?” I asked.

Silence, and then hiss, “Balls.” 

I took a moment to return the neighbor’s wave before she took flight. She stood there a moment, puzzled as to why Mike dove behind the pool at her approach and then disappeared inside.

I tried very hard to appear serious as I approached Mike, his face red, clutching his package in pain. I don’t think I managed to put together a comforting sentence before the smile started creeping across my face.

“It’s not funny,” he said, standing, hand still clutching his twig and berries.

“It’s kinda funny,” I said, quietly.

“I could have lost a testicle.”

“Did you?”

Mike looked down. “No… actually, I think it hit the tip of my penis.”

I made an unattractive snorting noise, trying to hold back the giggle fit.

“Your penis took one for the team?”

“Shut up.”

“It heroically dove in the path of the screaming bungee clip?”

“SHUT UP.”

But by now, he was laughing, too.

We giggled on and off about an hour, he wearing very loose shorts.

 

Amy Vansant

Amy Vansant is a USA Today and Wall Street Journal Best-Selling author specializing in fun, funny fiction --- even the murder mysteries.
Amy Vansant

25 Responses

  1. kathy

    now that is very funny. I’m not sure why we find blinding pain in the crotch so hilarious, but never fails to bring an “out loud” chuckle.
    Thanks

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  2. Lance

    why must you
    a) print a headline that makes me cringe and feel imaginary pain?

    b) be so glib about your husband’s manhood?

    this is me staying strong for my brother in groin pain, Mike.

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    • Amy Vansant

      Because it was HIS stupid idea and I WARNED HIM and because I know everyone other man would have probably done the same stupid thing. Consider it a warning for your own good. 🙂

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  3. Nicole

    ROFL… I am THE worst when it comes to keeping a straight face during a penile/testicular injury. I don’t know why it’s so funny, but it is. H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S.

    And I would totally opt for the Amazon PRIME item. Because, duh, AMAZON PRIME!

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    • Amy Vansant

      First rule of humor blogging – if you can’t think of anything funny, go for a shot to the balls! 🙂

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  4. El Guapo

    Come for the headline, stay for the hilarity.
    Having gone through tip-of-penis pain, I have nothing but sympathy for Mike.
    Having incurred mine as stupidly, I can’t stop laughing either.

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    • Amy Vansant

      Sorry to hear it, but hopefully your penis took the hit bravely, in defense of your testicles and wasn’t just hanging on the wrong street corner.

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  5. Chooplah

    You should leave one single bungee under his pillow, just so he remembers. Just so he never forgets…

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  6. kathy

    Exactly right about men, laughing and farts… the thing that gets me is: the stinkier the fart, the more hilarious the laughter…

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  7. Carrie - Cannibalistic Nerd

    Has he never seen a single episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos? People have made tens of thousands of dollars off of that exact scenario.

    I’m also afraid of bungee cords for this reason, and I don’t even have balls.

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  8. bluntdelivery

    You know what? If i ever stalk your backyard (cus i’m taking my own video to send in to a TV show behind your back) and you’re not floating around in a above ground pool, i will think something is wrong with the world.

    rock that above grounder.

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    • Amy Vansant

      OMG! Was that YOU in the bushes? I THOUGHT SO! I hope you got my good side. It’s the soles of my feet.

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  9. Laura R.

    I was laughing so hard at this post you would have thought I’d witnessed the debacle myself. LOVE it. Hilarious Post.

    My favorite line: “It heroically dove in the path of the screaming bungee clip?”

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    • Amy Vansant

      I did it for all Mike’s ex-girlfriends who ever wanted to punch him in the balls. Which I’m confident, having been with him for over 10 years, is ALL OF THEM.

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  10. Stacey

    I summarized your post to my husband. The expression on his face made it even more enjoyable.

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    • Amy Vansant

      I guess we can’t imagine it. I remember in grade school I once accidentally flicked someone in the balls and they acted like I’d just repeatedly stabbed them. But really, they deserve it since we get the whole monthly thing. Fair is fair.

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  11. One Funny Motha

    Oh no. But he wanted to go the bungee cord route. Let this be a lesson. Did he not realize he was getting even more redneck?

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