Des Downunder On Sundays

By Des Rutherford, Adelaide, Australia- 'The Parable of the Miracle of Joey Spermatozoa'

Joey was flying through the launch tube and he quickly checked his DNA folder to see if he had all the correct sequences for his primary mission of instigating a bundle of joy to his factory’s design specifications. They were all intact. Splat! Joey and his team had missed the target and crashed. In fact as Joey looked around, he saw the expected targets of the mission were nowhere to be seen.

Joey Spermatozoa again flew through the air. It wasn’t the first time he had done this, even if his previous trajectory through the air had been via a satisfactory muscular launch through that fleshy carnal cannon, this time it had been somewhat more dramatic and harsh. He and his group swimming team had been flicked through the air after they crash landed on the fingers which had, by the way, pushed all the right buttons to initiate the original launch sequence. This time he landed with a splat on the edge of the plateau of his factory’s stomach, just below a flesh covered rib.

He remembered his launch with nostalgia for his mission as he began swimming in circles in the prostatic ocean with his fellow semen. He had dared to turn and look at the cannon from which he had been fired. A truly magnificent erection, capable of firing many payloads, belonged to an Apollo of great beauty, and Joey wondered what it would have been like to have been part of a moon landing mission where he might have been deposited in a deep dark crater, instead of some womb without a view. Sadly neither of these options was now possible for him and his team.

Not that he had anything against space exploration; he thought that too was an interesting and worthy event in the interests of intergalactic relations between heavenly bodies, but he had wanted more from life than orbiting around in circles before he grew cold.

Happy Spermatozoa
by Dave Henniker

He knew of course that having landed outside on the heavenly body instead of in it, that he was unlikely to be able fulfil the primary objective, so he resigned himself to the secondary directive of leading the swim team to cascade away from the rib and down the side of the body. It was a slim chance they could avoid being mopped up as part of a crash landing, but it was worth a try. Maybe they could still offer a further moment of joy to their hosts, or at least one of them, and in so doing fulfil their own objective to bring happiness where none had been known for far too long. Yes, this was a noble objective, even in the final cooling of their lives that they might yet accomplish a worthy mission.

And then a tongue came to pass, without any words, licking Joey and his team up into a warm and welcoming mouth, swirling around and savouring the richness Joey and his team provided by their very sweet and salty tang.

Joey suddenly realised that this saviour’s tongue, this salivating mouth was not his own factory’s mouth, but that of another body. Then Joey felt the tongue of his factory caressing this tongue that had swept him and his team up, as the mouths docked in a kiss, mixing the fuels of the essence of life in frantic dance of affinity, of how much they love each other.

The moral of this story is, never worry if you miss your primary objective, just so long as, even when life swallows you up, you do your best, as Joey did, to hear and proclaim to each other those most important words, “I love you.”