Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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Confidential to my readers

I worry about my sperm sometimes. Not the way one would worry about real children, I don't concern myself with whether they've eaten their vegetables or done their homework or anything. With a lifespan of 14 days I say smoke em if you got em live each day like there will be no tomorrow, because there probably won't be a tomorrow. If you're one of my sperm your tomorrow is likely a fast trip into a wad of tissue paper.

I also don't worry about my sperm like a medical professional might worry about sperm. That they're not motile enough, or that their tails are curved, or whatever. That when it comes time to impregnate a woman and create a new life my little guys won't be up to the task. On the contrary. Most of the time I worry that my sperm may be too powerful.

Now, before you start laughing, please hear me out. I know sperm are simple little single-cell structures that consist of not much more than a head full of DNA and a tail for the swimming. I know that they are incredibly stupid non-creatures, automatons with only one purpose. I know that billions of them are created in my testicles and that the vast majority of them will die without accomplishing a damned thing.

But what of those who won't?

I am a very smart individual, some might even say brilliant. We know that intelligence is in part a genetic trait. I think we can say, then, with some certainty, that I have some fucking genius sperm. I am also a strong man, and I assume that my sperm are equally muscular. This combination of brilliance and strength makes them dangerous. Very dangerous. I look at a condom, a little thin sheath of rubber, and I think "How can this pathetic thing possibly hope to hold my sperm? They will tear through it like Malaysian pirates bushwhacking in the jungle. Is latex a match for my sperm? Durex says it is. Logic says it is not. My sperm are not to be trifled with.

And there are billions of them. Billions and billions. One of these days one of them is going to figure out how to transcend his spermy fate, and then there'll be trouble. Like what if after I flush one of the tissues down my toilet some of the sperm figure out how to live off the nutrients in the sewage system? What if one of them discovers that he is strong enough to swim against the current of the flush and manages to go up the pipes of various toilets? Couldn't he swim up into a toilet bowl, wait for a woman to sit down to pee, and then leap up and impregnate her? What's stopping him? It's so easy. Can we really trust that none of my genius sperm will figure this out?

Or, god forbid, what if one of them gets his hands (metaphorical hands) on some plutonium? Who would be safe then? The short answer is nobody. He'd call the media and start making demands for fertile women to surrender their ovums to him. Would I be held responsible for the cost of harvesting the eggs? What would he do with them? He could only fertilize one, but what if he distributed others to his buddies and they created a race of nuclear armed super babies? What then? My friends we cannot allow this to happen.

There are only two possible solutions to this vexing problem. One is castration. The other is that I get the sperm while they're still young and undeveloped. Thus in order to save the world and retain my testicles I must make sure to orgasm numerous times a day and make sure that my sperms are flushed before they are mature of mind and body. This is the only way that we can keep them from taking control of the world.

Or destroying it.

Wish me luck.
Tags: humor unedited, sex
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