Hello Gulf Coasters welcome to the Bat’s neck of the woods. Kindly leave you money in the locals wallets and enjoy yourselves while you are here.
The Bat has all kinds of poker to talk about but first the Bat wants to talk about his balls. Yes, if you do not like conversations that get teste, you might want to click away now. If you have a sense of humor, preferable one that leans juvenile, pull up a chair.
The Bat’s balls are two giantic orbs that the Bat relies on to make bluffs and call down people, but that’s not all they are. So let’s no longer give short shrift to their might or their heft, and they are mighty, they are hefty, and they are mighty hefty.
The Bat’s balls are fluent in Chinese and Esperanto. If they could talk they could prove it.
What’s Esperanto? *Answer below, but let’s not make your eyes bleed any earlier than they need to and keep talking about the Bat’s balls, just know that Epseranto is a little used language.
The Bat’s balls are strong independent thinkers, in fact, on some of the grander issues that bedevil man they disagree. One ball is a staunch radical monotheisist, the other an atheisist. How does the Bat know this? Quite simply, when making the bedsprings squeak the Bat says two things, and realize this is when the Bat’s brain has been seized by the balls, the first is… “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.” That’s the monotheisist ball doing the heavy lifting. When the squeaky-squeaky is guided by the atheisist nut the Bat is known to say “No. God. No. God. No. God.” The atheisist ball for whatever reason seems to wrap things up a bit quicker than the monotheisist.
The Bat isn’t positive which ball is which afterall, the whole right brain controls you left side and left brain controls your right throws the Bat. Do they balls work the same way?
Now, the Bat has asserted his balls speak a vague international language other than the International language of love. How can the Bat know this? When all five bills of the Bat aren’t crushing a bedmate, sometimes the Bat will talk to these ladies of the night. One time he met the rarest of breeds. Finding an American who speaks Esperanto is difficult, because we aren’t much into international unity and speaking anything other than English. However, one flower that blossomed in the Bat’s Shreveport shanty spoke the language Esperanto. And sure, for many ladies, paid and or drugged, the Bat’s balls speak to them, but that is in a more etheral sense. This lady literally had a conversation with them.
Here the athesist ball and the monothesist ball were in concordance, on the day they spoke to this lady. Here’s how… She’s also a skilled morse code enthuisast and she realized the tip-tapping of the Bat’s balls was actually a riveting conversation about the deficit. Now, the fact the Bat’s balls are also conversational in morse code should not be a surprise afterall they are attached the Bat. What some men learn in a humble prisoner of war cell in desperate need of connection, the Bat’s balls just know innately. It should be more surprising to you that this strumpet could follow along. Realize when the Bat’s registering on the richter scale it seems unlikely that a bedmate should have their mind on anything but the Bat, but not this lady, she had the excellence of nerve sensitivity to follow along with the conversation of the Bat’s balls as well as endure a minute and half of a fat rippling good time.
In some ways, we should celebrate her, not the two conduits of molten man lava swinging with mighty heft between the Bat’s legs. Course, that wench also enjoys bathing in Ajax so in some ways she’s a genuis and in others a moron. No, the Bat’s balls are 100% genuis so let’s shine the spotlight on their magnificence. If they could write or hold a paintbrush, man could stop writing and could stop painting because the Bat’s balls would put an exlamation point on art, a level that could not be topped nor even compared to. Indeed they would render all other works of art as intriguing as a toddler’s refridgerator picture and would rend the written word obsolete. In some ways, it’s a blessing those balls are contained in such muted state because their prolific genuis would have us question our ineptitude.
Probably other balls would get jealous. Robert DeNiro’s balls, saggy, wrinkly, and stretched to the knees as they are, would question the choices they made in Cape Fear or Taxi Driver. Self-doubt would overcome them and render DeNiro a flacid Focker. Yes, Dick Cheney’s balls would stop kick-starting his heart, Phil Ivey’s balls would shrink when he got near a craps table, and your balls would lose their way. Mankind would fight a tragic battle with their balls trying to use the flap in the underwear as a means to suicide. In such a world you could only pity your balls. The Bat’s balls could channel Picaso while your average balls can barely figure out how to move closer to the body and further from it because of temperature and/or confinement. Suddenly, the world’s balls would be depressed and depressed balls don’t produce offspring.
So, in some ways we should be grateful we don’t hear the clarion call of the Bat’s balls because to listen to them while beautiful the after-effects much like dabbling with crystal meth or looking on the glowing visage of an angel would be corrosive to society as a whole.
So in short, thank you for coming to Bossier City. Thank you for sitting at a table with the Bat, despite knowing how handicapped you are, because not only are you playing against the Bat you are also playing against his balls.
*It’s a contrived interanational language “”alexically predominantly Romantic, morphologically intensively agglutinative, and to a certain degree isolating in character”. The phonology, grammar, vocabulary, and semantics are based on the western Indo-European languages. The phonemic inventory is essentially Slavic, as is much of the semantics, while the vocabulary derives primarily from the Romance languages, with a lesser contribution from the Germanic languages.” That explains it right?