Interview with the Emasculator

by Sean Kilpatrick

1.

My ski-mask, my rubber band emasculator, my little castration groupies watch my muscles gleam with spotlight grease in some church basement, of all places, lecturing the ball-sac-boys as they sheep-off to my voice, to my ten inches as I pull it out with its undercarriage of scars. Real men don't need these: I hold up the jar. My voice is high and repeats often. Real men do the cutting themselves.

I am the only man I've spoken with who has performed a self-operation and survived. I sometimes taunt the crowd, the genital dollar signs, especially my competitors' crowds, and I do have competition: Go on, attempt the operation yourselves. I tell them, look at me. I did it. Here I am. Irresponsible and drunk behavior happens when I am sad. Bad news in my line of work. No one ever tries self-operation, though, or they come to me with their half-started incisions, which is good for business. Can't walk far to the next guy.

Becoming a surgeon: First, you go in a chat room and find sheep with lots of free time, money, and identity issues. They hate their balls. Maybe they stick things into them. Maybe they punch them. Encourage this. Spend the minimum on equipment. Just enough precautions so they won't die of infection. Don't end up lethally injected by the state. Don't be The Gonad Strangler. Research. You can make a high living. Fuck medical school.

2.

My wife is a tolerant woman disgusted by male orgasm. Her love is my greatest of all sheep-offs. I talked her into hymen replacement surgery in a chat room. The first time we tried masking tape. I'm kidding.

But it didn't work. We were married when she noticed, after hours of screaming her head off, that my condition prevents me from orgasm. She likes holding me in for a long time. I fell asleep inside her once for two days.

Again, I am a well-hung eunuch. I've never cheated on my wife. Although, thousands of people have masturbated in the hotel operation rooms before I perform. Goodbye orgasm. Most people grip one memory of pleasure for comfort against years of regret.

I never regret their money. Not many are initially ecstatic when they see my work. That's not true. I lied. I do get letters. I am treated like a priest. A saint. I admit it. They love me. I'm popular in the South. Someone built me a dick-shaped throne in Texas. I only wear the ski mask while being filmed or interviewed. Like now.

© 2006 Sean Kilpatrick