You meet some interesting people at open mics. I met drunks, dope addicts, gamblers and crooks. I met a guy who drank a martini made of piss. I met a lady who ate bleach, tampons and kitty litter. I met a sex therapist, a handful of dominatrixes, a couple of half assed trannies, and a stripper with a 12 inch cock. I met an elf, a black albino and a midget. I thought I’d met just about every crazy person in New York until Tommy Nutsack came into my life. Tommy Nutsack is a large middle-aged nudist, which in itself is not that crazy. Until you get a look at his nutsack.
I went to Faceboy’s open mic on a regular Sunday night at Collective Unconscious back when it was on Ludlow St. As I began the walk across the room to the sign up can, something stopped me dead in my tracks. I immediately turned away.
“Oh my God.”
“I know. I’m doing everything in my power not to look”, said Jeff Mac.
Jeff Mac is someone to whom I can turn during particularly painful open mic moments. He understands.
“Is there something very, very wrong happening?”
“Yes. Yes, there is”, Jeff Mac confirmed.
When I finally mustered up the courage, I peered over at a man who I would soon come to know as Tommy Nutsack. He loomed in the corner near the sign up can. And so did his giant balls.
“Okay, so I see the balls. Obviously. But I don’t see a penis”, I whispered to Jeff Mac.
“I don’t know. I’m very, very afraid”, he confided.
With eyes to the ground I hustled over to the sign up can, put my name in and hurried back to Jeff Mac. He promptly put a note into my hand. It read:
How are you? I am fine. That man is scaring the holy hell out of me.
We continued to pass notes back and forth until Tommy Nutsack finally had his turn on stage. Everyone in the room sat at attention as if we were all in the military. This was the moment we had all been waiting for. With Tommy Nutsack under a spotlight, we all felt free to examine what had been the proverbial elephant in the room. Fuck that. It was the physical elephant in the room. That nutsack was the biggest nutsack that any of us had ever seen, and we’ve seen a lot of nutsacks. It roughly the size of a small planet. The sheer girth of those monstrously oversized balls was not the only problem, because it didn’t look like balls, per se. It looked his testicles had congealed into one single mutant testicle instead of two, and the tender ball-skin was stretched tighter than Joan Crawford’s face. This one terrifying ball was big enough to feed a large impoverished cannibal nation, but I don’t think you get even the bravest of cannibals near that unseemly hump. And the worst part about his already horrifying genitalia was the apparent lack of a penis. How could a man be in the possession of such a giant ball sack and not have a penis?
Just then, with his fingers, Tommy Nutsack pressed the sides of his ball sack, and sure enough a tiny penis emerged from its testicular nest like a dumpster rat in search of food. He thrust his hips forward and gently tapped his little penis on the mic stand that perched in front of him. The audience gasped and recoiled in horror. Tommy Nutsack released the pressure from his testes and his tiny penis slunk back into its cocoon.
Tommy stood in silence for a moment. As he stood sweating and breathing heavily, I noticed that he was covered in painted peace symbols that had mostly warn off. When he finally spoke, it was to tell the brief and uncomfortable tale of his nude day. Apparently, Tommy Nutsack tried to appear in as many places as would allow him to be naked, and I believe that he though the crude paintings all over his body would make it look less creepy and more artistic. But none of us had any interest in this. We all wanted to know one thing and one thing only. How did his nutsack get so big?
Finally, Tommy Nutsack ran out of things to say and decided to take questions from the audience. Dozens of hands shot up, but it was Master Lee who got the first words. Master Lee is a Buddhist poker player who wears a Chinese robe and two huge plastic diamond pinky rings.
“Dude, what’s up with your balls?”
The rest of us held our breath, all silently thanking Master Lee through telepathy for asking the question we’ve all been dying to have answered. We had a right to know.
And Tommy Nutsack just stood there like a big naked mute. He refused tell us what’s wrong with his balls. We were left to our guesses. Elephantitis of the balls was suggested. Big Mike, a horny nurse with a penchant for Polaroids, guessed a heart problem had caused the swelling. But no one knew for sure. And to this day, we still don’t know.
Tommy Nutsack came around for a while and terrorized various girls until Faceboy made him keep his clothes on while he was in the audience. He did his nude eight minutes at Faceboy’s and his nude six minutes at the Antislam. Reverend Jen honored him with the “Best Nutsack” award at the Mr. Lower East Side Pageant. And then he stopped coming around all together. None of us have seen him in months. Rumor has it that he’s getting an operation on that huge and mystifying nutsack. I wonder what his nickname will become if that’s true.