Karen the Barbarian

A/N: This is just a very short vignette referencing the famous scene.



War banners were proudly displayed in haphazard fashion around the encampment. The largest tent stood out like a vulvic symbol amongst a legion of lesser structures. Inside, a small party of nubile female warriors languished on crude cushions. Scanty loincloths, gigantic sizes and lewd demeanor mark them as the female only tribe of Femazonia.

"This is good, but what is best in life?" The crafty war chief asked.

"The open steppe, fleet horse, falcons at your wrist and the wind in your hair." Her lieutenant answered.

"No! Karen, what is best in life?!"

"To crush your enemies' testicles, see them castrated before you and hear the lamentations of the men", Karen the Barbarian replied confidently.

"That is good! That is good."

"To the lamentations of the former men then!" The lieutenant quip and toast was met with raised mugs and four hearty laughs and one nervous one.

"Male bard! A song! A song about broken balls!"

Bobby the bald bard stood up warily and strummed a tune on his guitar. His flimsy loincloth made him all too aware of his own set of balls.

"Oh there once was a beautiful damsel in distress" He paused his song and looked down to see who had grabbed his ankle. His rival, the female skald, was hugging his leg, her ample breasts on his shin, face breathing a trail of cold air onto his crotch. He noticed too late her other hand snaking its way underneath his loincloth and squeezing his balls.

"Aiee!"

"That's the song of broken balls we want to hear bard! Higher pitch now!" The skald squeezed harder and the song of male pain increased in pitch.

Karen the barbarian stood abruptly and slammed her knee into the man's testicles. The bald one went down with a whimper to lie beside his rival skald.

"We should rest now. Tomorrow, we fight at dawn against the snake men."