Guess what it is. No prizes, just that warm spot in your soul that comes from knowing you’re badder-assed than any other Balls and Walnuts reader.
And now, in honor of Mother’s Day, what is this woman standing next to? (NSFW . . . I guess.)
I know I’ve been a drag lately. Illness does that to me. I’d do a whole post of sobs if I could: Waaah! I’m coughing up a lung! Waaah! My colon’s trying to turn itself inside out!
To make it up to you, I thought up a fun quiz. Below, you’ll find the last words of works which are considered classics of their genre. Read the words, guess the author. Answers in the Comments.
No prizes for this one; you cultcha geniuses will have to be content with the newly reaffirmed knowledge of your intellectual superiority. Mensa will be contacting you posthaste.
Oh, one complication: in cases where a name would give away the answer, I have substituted a different name. Ain’t I a son of a bitch?
Regular readers know: I like to pretend that I have no shame. But is that really true? Surely there are some things even I wouldn’t do. I’ve never given you the full monty, for example, and never will. If it were something to write home about, I might reconsider. But until those “Why Be An Average Guy Any Longer?” pills kick in, you’ll have to live in ignorance.
So I thought: why not devise a test to see whether I lack all shame? and why not share it with my readers? and why not have some fun with it, too?
Here we go. Excuse all the male pronouns, but tonight I have no patience for the he/she business; substitute appropriate pronouns for yourself.