Jesse   United States
Professionals have standards.
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I was heading to class when suddenly there in front of me was a man walking his tortoise. I don’t know if you can call the whole process walking (is it walking if the man only takes one step every minute?) since the tortoise took so long to move that its owner would just kind of stand there waiting and smiling at every double-taking passerby. I stopped to watch them walk. Soon there was a crowd watching and cheering for the tortoise. He would take his however many steps and then his owner would take one giant-for-a-tortoise-sized step and then we the anaclitic crowd would take one step closer. We spent at least 5 minutes watching and waiting for the tortoise to reach the crosswalk.
As I watched I imagined a whole backstory for the tortoise, of it having lived through generations of this man’s family, passed down from father to son, each believing that their unvitiated souls upon death passed into the tortoise so each son was in fact caring for their father et al. by their generation-spanning love for this at-least-twice-souled horcrux of an animal.
When the tortoise reached the crosswalk he suddenly burst onto the street and into the path of an SUV. This answered the question that I had never thought to ask, namely: What sound does a tortoise make as it’s run over? Answer: A testudinal crunch. The crunch was immediately followed by a spray of tortoise goo. Chelonian blood, is, of course, red, so it was a nice red spray, and I watched it seep along the asphalt while the rest of the crowd stood horrified.
Now the owner started screaming. Probably, I thought, because he had just lost his father and grandfather and whomever else was living beneath that shell.
I walked onto the blood-covered street and got on my hands and knees and started licking. The crowd’s horror and disgust was now being articulated by shouts of what the fuck, man? and dude, seriously? I could barely hear them and kept on licking and then moved on to some strand-like stuff and began putting that in my mouth. After a while, I felt I had enough, could now hear their voices clearly.
I went over to the owner who had collapsed and was sobbing by the ruined ancestral shell and told him it was alright. I had saved them. They were inside of me and I could hear them, his father and grandfather and great-grandfather speaking to me through the turtle blood. He looked up at my blood covered face and put his hands on his head and screamed.

Penis size: 7.5" x 6"
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