I was on a dirt road with my hands down my shorts, feeling my testicles. I instead of two testicles, I clearly felt three. “Strange”, I thought, “one must be a tumor, I hope it is not cancer”. Then, from a gate to the side of the road slid out a very big and long weasel dressed in red, with a harness on its body. The harness was attached to a large amount of scrap metal which it dragged with ease. Out of my view it was being called by its owner, who was inside the gate.