jackassworld

You don’t have to be a herpetologist like Henry Rollins to enjoy this Wildboyz outcast, but I suppose it certainly does help to have some kind of tortoise in the closet of your past. I mean, I have, so I do find it rather funny in the “What the fuck do I do with this uncooperative shell of an animal?” kind of way, because once upon a time I, too, had one of these Testudine moments in my lifetime.

You see, from 1994–2000, I lived with Jeff Tremaine. Not in sin. Just as roommates. But for as long as I’ve known him, Jeff has always owned tortoises. So when we conjoined our living spaces, I somewhat inherited two of them as pets and Desmond and Lulu occupied the entire space of our backyard patio. Now I didn’t know much about tortoises before then, but what I did learn—and fast—is that they’re filthy fucking animals. First of all, they’re vegetarians, so when they take a dump it’s very pancake battery in nature. And then what do they go and do after dropping a load? Well, if they don’t start munching on the shit first—which I did catch one of them doing—they’ll march around and drag the bottom of their tortoise shell butts through the piles, smearing them into long skid marks to bake in the sun. So every week you’d have to go out there with a hose and spray the area down just to keep it from becoming a safe haven for every fly in a 15-mile radius. Our neighbors loved us.

But the upside to step-ownership came when I returned home from work one day to find Desmond mounted atop Lulu with his wee tortoise cock a thumpin’ on her backdoor. (I swear, if it wasn’t for hot animal-on-animal sexual encounters the world would be a very dreary place indeed.) But every up has its corresponding down and, sure enough, so did this seemingly innocent act of reptile lust. Months later, I returned home once again to find them up to no good. Only this time it really was no good. Lulu had popped out a series of leathery soft eggs and, similar to their shitscapades, she’d done gone and backed her ass up and smushed them all into the Astroturf in a big, gooey mess.

Quite frankly, I’m surprised they’re not all extinct by now, stupid boxes of guts that they are.

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