His Truck Had a Nutsack

An excerpt from Laurie Notaro's I Love Everybody (and Other Atrocious Lies), after a decision to be nicer in order to achieve good karma:

I Love Everybody.

Two miles from Costco, all is going well until a Chevy two-ton crosses two empty lanes of traffic to squeal in front of me and then reduces its speed to that of a Fred Flintstone car. It was at a barely crawling 25 miles per hour in a 45 zone that I was able to fully, and comprehensively, take in and understand the character of the motorist before me. On his bumper, for everyone to see, including his mother, his boss, his neighbors, and any womenfolk he might have swindled into dating, was a bumper sticker that read: TODAY'S WORD IS LEGS...LET'S SPREAD THE WORD!!

I choked on my own saliva. I don't even know what you say after seeing something like that. I really don't. Nothing except that I would be entirely remiss by not mentioning that as an additional adornment to his fine, gray-primered-on-one-side vehicle and swining to and fro from his trailer hitch was a flesh-colored sock, into which he had apparently stuffed two racquetballs, sitting side by side, and had fashioned himself something of a scrotum. That's right, his truck had a nutsack.

His truck had a nutsack.

As I passed the Testicle Truck, I made a five-dollar bet with myself and won when I saw that its master had opted not to don a shirt that morning.

I smiled and I nodded.

"Aren't you delightful?" I said, to which he stuck his big, filthy tongue into his cheek and vigorously moved it around as he reaised his eyebrows repeatedly.

I laughed and said through my smiling, clenched teeth, "Your trailer hitch has a better shot at that than you do. At least his boys have dropped."

Nice.

I love Quite Close to Everybody.