The Green Kangaroos

I shouldn't be working on this novel when I have so many others I'm simultaneously working on, but oh well! Fun is fun. :) Here are the opening paragraphs.

THE GREEN KANGAROOS

The best way to take atlys is to inject it straight into the testicles. Your balls feel like they're made of iron, and they hurt for a few minutes, but after that you wonder how you ever lived without iron balls. It's much the same if a woman shoots atlys into her nethers, except it'll feel like she has one giant iron testicle. My ex-wife used to call it “The Head,” back when I still called her “wife.” The Head had its own voice, its own day job, its own hobbies separate from Serena's. The only thing they had in common was that they both enjoyed being with me, although The Head was slightly more interested in the Iron Men between my legs. Not that I could blame it. The Iron Men were good boys back then. When life got too heavy for me to handle, they were always heavier, swinging around my knees while singing, “It's better down here, you'll see. Just shoot some more atlys and you'll see it all, Perry.” They aren't so good now. They're still iron, still heavy, but they don't swing. They just hang. They sink. They grunt, “What ever happened to The Head? It was such a doll. It used to bake us cookies and massage us when we were sore. Now we just wallow, waiting for the next pinprick as we slam against Perry's little pin-prick. You should really look up The Head and see what its doing these days.”

But I already know. Even though the binoculars I found in the dumpster behind the Kum Den Chinese restaurant leave a slimy film around my eyes, they also leave me more informed about Serena's current activities. I don't have the heart to tell the Iron Men that their old friend The Head is long dead.