I don’t have a scrotum but the words “labia” and “tickling” don’t have quite the same feel to them. I am extremely ticklish though so even the thought of tickling a non-existent scrotum makes me wince.
(Thank you, Cards Against Humanity, for yet another fascinating lesson on pairing verbs with body parts. You’re sort of like fuzzy sex dice except you’re not at all fuzzy or in the shape of a dice.)
I’m getting to the point. Give me a sec.
So I read this short story once about some kids learning how to fish with their bare hands. You wade out to the calmest part of a river, wait until a fish swims within arm’s reach, then you oh-so-slowly slide your hand beneath it and oh-so-slowly tickle its belly. The idea being that your fingers mimic the flow of water to lull said fish into a relaxed stupor. Then (if you’re REALLY good at this tickling thing) you’ll be able to dig your fingers into its gills, scoop it into the air, and toss it onto the river bank. All in one smooth motion, of course.
This is how I imagine you’d tickle scrotums.
This is also how this round of revisions have been going. I am on draft number I’ve-totally-lost-count, and I spend more time tickling words than on making any visible progress. I am knee deep in freezing water tickling motherfucking fish with fingers so numb that I’ve lost the delicate touch required to, well, tickle
I’m hungry. Hungry to roast some goddamn fish. Hungry to move on to another project, or at the very least, to a different verb applied to a different body part. Which is why I’m writing this blog post because sometimes, you just need the gratification of fi(ni)shing something big so you can keep on tickling the little things.