Saco de Toro

So . . . my roommate has this boyfriend. And he has always been perfectly civil to me which is why I'm going to be careful what I say about him here. Because despite this civility I'm quite sure that if I were to get on his bad side he would probably set fire to my car. He's a wilderness sort of guy, which is all you really need to know here.

The other day I was talking on the phone and noticed something on the kitchen table. I picked it up. It looked like a hollowed-out gourd made of leather. Wondered what kind of animal that came from, and then put it back down and dismissed it with an, "Enh. Must be some freaky thing [BF] brought in." Forgot all about it.

Until the next day when I came across a small printed leaflet on the kitchen counter which read, "Congratulations - you are the proud owner of an original Saco De Toro. It is an actual scrotum of the king of the range. It came from a proud, virile beast and at one time contained the seeds of life and the future of the heard."

Yeah. Flipping nutsac on my kitchen table. It seems I can grab bulls' balls. (I know I wasn't the only girl who watched this movie in a Michael-Vartan-induced haze. It's lucky for me he wasn't a French teacher, because do y'all even remember the part on Alias where he spoke the French and all women everywhere stopped breathing and some actually died? Le sigh . . . )

And now back to the abomination.

I continued reading, and am now including a faithful reproduction of the leaflet copy, with my own small asides.

"Your Saco De Toro has weathered the heat of the summers and the cold winds of winters. The scars and blemishes on your Saco De Toro are indicative of the hardships endured by the beast." [Because . . . bulls spend a lot of time getting kicked in the crotch? I'm really not sure who would be walking up to a bull and doing that. No one who's still alive, that's for sure.]

"You can be assured that there is not another Saco De Toro exactly like yours anywhere. [Oh, good.] They are as distinctive as fingerprints and come in different colors, different sizes, different shapes and different textures [and flavors, I assume]. Your Saco De Toro is unique, useful, conversational [that's for sure] and expressive." [What exactly is it meant to express, though? I am a seventh-grade male who thinks that anything to do with testicles is hilarious and therefore awesome?]

"What will you keep in yours? [You mean besides my own vomit?] That is limited only by your own imagination. You may use it as a litter bag in your car. You may hang it in your home or office with dried flowers in it. You may hang it on your golf bag to keep your balls in. You may use it as a container for your own private hopes and dreams of the future of momentoes of the past." [I'm . . . not even going to try unraveling that last one.]

"Grandma has hers hanging on her rocking chair and when asked, "Granny, what do you keep in your Saco De Toro? ash gets a far off look in her eyes and replies, "Why, my memories, sonny." [I'm pretty sure his Granny is made up. Because like anyone has ever said that in real life, ever. Granny's far-off look is probably because she is a) mercifully blind and cannot see that her family has draped genitalia over her chair, or b) dreaming wistfully of a nursing home far far away.]

"Saco De Toros are for both sexes of all ages and are sometimes given as gifts to that special someone as a token of remembrance." [What exactly are you hoping them to remember when they look at it? Although I suppose it could be a really fun gift for girls to give each other to celebrate the emasculation of a former romantic interest.]

"Don't forget it is especially useful to keep your Candy Kisses in.," [Yeah. Because I'm for sure going to be eating things that come out of that.]

(Photo from www.bbhq.com, which can probably rush one of these babies to you just in time to ruin Christmas. Call now!)