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Here is a short story I wrote while on vacation in Tucson Az. I do Hope You Enjoy it.

* Jim has Nutz on his Chin *

Jim, apparently, has nuts on his chin – or at least the scrawlings on the bathroom wall here at the Cup Café, in the Hotel Congress (Where they caught John Dillinger) in Tucson, Arizona, would lead you to believe. (Is that A run on sentence?) I wondered as I drained my coffee, and waterlogged bladder, Who is this Jim – and why, for the contempt of god, does he have these nuts on his chin? It’s not so farfetched an Idea I suppose, to imagine that there is this guy, named Jim perhaps, who does indeed possess for some reason, nuts, or a nut like substance, upon his chin!

Now, I can only assume they are using the word nuts as a euphemism for testicles, as opposed to maybe Walnuts, or Brazil nuts. In some cases that might seem just absurd, But as I have an affinity for Brazil nuts it is not uncommon for I myself to have some nut particles on my own chin. But rarely a whole nut, and never more than one. That would venture into the absurdity I mentioned affore.

But where is this Jim? And where are these nuts in fact, besides (as I am to assume) on Jim’s chin? I think I would like to see these nuts, and Jim as well, perhaps to ascertain if these alleged nuts are attached to something else, save just to the protrusion of Jim’s none to accommodating chin. Is there perhaps more than just one set of nuts, for that is not clearly stated by the author’s bathroom scribblings. It seems to me it’s a crowded chin whereupon rests more than just one set-o-nuts, unless you are maybe, Jay Leno. I imagine Jay Leno could stand to have 8 or 9 average sized nuts upon his grandiose chin. Even 12 maybe - if they, of course, didn’t object to crowding.

How, I wonder, does Jim feel about these nuts? Did Jim in fact give permission for these nuts to be placed in such close proximity, if not in fact, in direct contact with his chin. I long to know?

Could this in fact be some manner of birth defect, I wonder? Mayhaps the author of this scrawling, say perhaps, met Jim. Maybe at a party perhaps, and saw what appeared to he or her (As it was a uni-sex bathroom, the Authors gender can not be readily deduced) to be testicles, but in fact may actually have been elephantitian growths. Jim may not have shaved recently giving the further illusion of peach fuzz, or pubic hair. That too I think is a possibility that deserves to be looked into.

Here is one that is not so likely but does in fact still exist within the realm of possibilities. Perhaps Jim had recently been in a hurry to finish consuming a sundae. When he was observed by this anonymous penman, or penperson, as the case maybe. It’s likely Jim is a bearded man and was not aware that his facial accouterment had captured these few stray nuts. Alas, I would imagine if that were the case, Jim’s facial growth might also have displayed a nuance or two of Hot Fudge Topping, or Whipped Cream. Yet the Authors statement, Nay, the authors declaration makes no mention of such findings near or abouts Jim’s chin. Which does this theory some small amount of damage, but does not exclude from more credible hypothesis.

Perhaps, there exists a misspelling, by the observant yet maybe slightly dyslexic, author of this none to cryptic message. Perhaps what they had intended to convey was that these nuts were in fact Jim’s very own. That these none to freakish testicles were for some reason so heavy that they had in fact stretched down obscenely. Resting, not upon Jim’s chin, but upon Jim’s shins. I suppose in this event if Jim were doing a head stand then the message still could be attributed to this theory.

Never the less all these things, these theories, it seems to me could very well exist both in the range and scope of both reality and possibility. And somewhere betwixt reality and possibility lies the truth to these most perplexing speculations.

All of these obscure thoughts ran rampant through my brain as I relieved myself in the uni-sex bathroom in the Cup Café in the Hotel Congress (Where they caught John Dillinger) in beautiful Tucson, Arizona. (Is that a run-on sentence?) It’s a lovely place really even with the hasty bathroom scribblings (and there were others). I washed my hands as I pondered Jim’s predicament, then went out to reclaim my seat and imbibe even more of the exquisite coffee, and to write these musings down. While I scribbled these philosophical meanderings, I of course kept my eyes peeled. For other patrons, perhaps given to answer to the name of Jim, who may or may not have nuts, in the vicinity of his chin, if not in fact in direct contact with it – his chin that is.

W. A. Mogollon

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