It astonishes me that, in what is now a thread of well over 5000 pages, the real victim of Nick Rekieta's runaway degeneracy has scarcely been acknowledged.
Picture, if you will, the following: A teenager on Christmas morning. Kneeling beside the tree, his trembling fingers prise apart the wrapping around a long box, revealing inside a doll of Magneto - the principle villain of the X-Men. He unfastens the wire ties that hold the action figure in place. Removing it from its packaging he tries out the various accessories. He shuffles-off the tight fitting helmet that amplifies Magneto's already formidable powers. Holding it up to the blinking festive lights, he admires its phallic art deco contouring, as if Frank Lloyd Wright had redesigned the human penis for a more sophisticated age. If this were larger, he thinks, I could fit both of my balls inside.
Time passes. Pages tumble from the calendar like leaves in Autumn. The Magneto doll either breaks or is sold on eBay, or at a yard sale. A collage of spinning headlines presents a dynamic picture of a world in continuous flux:
Lara Croft discovers rare Sonichu Medallion in Peru
Lara Croft: "Inside me there are two wolves, both trans"
Millionaire heiress, Lara Croft, avoids jail after wolf sex video leaks online
Pervert Croft imprisoned after locating/fucking missing father
The boy is now a man of college age, navigating the internal politics of the Title IX dating scene. He has a girlfriend who refuses to allow him to nut inside her. 'But what if I were somehow able to place my nuts inside her?' he thinks. What then?
What then, indeed.
Drawing on Magneto's helmet for inspiration, he designs a bullet-shaped device that, with the insertion of the testicles, will assume the role of a hamster-cheeked secondary penis; one that has been fashioned not by God but by the artifice of man, who now dares to tamper with the fabric of creation itself. Weeks later, while on a mushroom bender, he will christen this apparatus 'The Balldo'.
The man creates a prototype from a cardboard tube. Incredibly, it holds both his gonads securely. The cardboard is both sharp and yielding; unlikely to survive long in the moist environment of a vagina A different medium is required. He convinces a friend - William, who is majoring in Applied Material Sciences - to manufacture a mock-up in hard plastic. William is a man of limited vision who cannot conceive penetrating a woman with his balls. He buys the story that the device is a portable bird feeder. The man files the relevant documents in person at the patent office. Giddy with expectation he imagines a world where the Balldo is more
object d'art than sex toy; where it has transcended its trademark and has become a household name; where miniature Balldos, rendered in platinum and silver, dangle from charm bracelets; where the Top Hat playing piece in the board game Monopoly is permanently phased out and is replaced by a Balldo.
The years that follow pass in a blur:
He is in the corner office of a skyscraper, standing before a group of angel investors, pointing confidently with a stick at a pie chart on a whiteboard.
A montage of female news anchors, wearing pastel-toned jackets, utter the word "Balldo" approvingly in chorus.
Kyle from Nickelodeon orders 100,000 Balldos in the colours of the trans flag, for Gay Pride Month.
From her prison cell, Lara Croft accuses him of culturally appropriating the Balldo from the Mayans.
He is contacted by a man named Nick Rekieta - a lawyer - who offers to promote the Balldo within the respectable legal sector.
Alas, Rekieta is a control freak who is spiraling out of control; a degenerate scumbag worshipper of a pink anthropomorphic cow who, in the depraved mythology of his pantheon, is periodically fucked in the arse by a woman who has been hand-stitched from leather in a Mexican sweatshop. Rekieta has opened his marriage to all coomers. They film the overtures to their sordid bedroom dalliances in the sex pond he has incorporated into his formerly-christian home. He is a cocaine prepper; a man at war with his creator, and he is made to suffer the consequences. When the police break down his front door, they enter a house strewn with guns and filth, that bears the footprints of unwashed children dressed in soiled clothing. The Balldo will forever be associated with this individual. The brand is dead and with it dies the dream.
Another montage, this one documenting the fall of a man who challenged the notion of what could be inserted into a vagina: The same chorus of female news anchors, having seemingly swapped pastel-toned jackets with each other, utter the word 'Balldo', only this time with contempt. Kyle from Nickelodeon calls to cancel the Balldo deal. "Market research confirms that our demographic prefer well-groomed children with clean feet," he says. An article in the Wall Street Journal announces that the Top Hat in games of Monopoly is to be replaced by a baseball cap modelled on the one sold by the ailing Internet milliner, Jimothy Metokur.
100,000 Balldos, bedecked in trans flag colours, dangle from the branches of the tree outside the trailer that the man has been forced to move into. It is as if they have hung themselves in shame. William, his friend from college, visits. Spotting the hanging Balldos, he enquires of their inventor whether he has been successful in marketing his bird feeder design. The birds will not venture anywhere near this strange fruit. It is as if nature itself seeks to distance itself from Nick Rekieta.
One afternoon, the man receives a package in the mail. He opens the lid. A strange medallion stares back at him with green anime eyes. Wearily, he puts it on.