Tensions grew incredibly testy at a new testicle festival this weekend after supplies of deep-fried bull balls ran out temporarily, leaving disgruntled customers heading for the exit in a vengeful rage.
“I came here for beers and t**ties – and I didn’t get either,” blasted one disgruntled punter in earshot of The U.S. Sun during day two of Testicle Festival in Bentonville, Arkansas, on Saturday.
“This isn’t what we were promised,” added a second. “You don’t have any balls, you don’t have any beers…we want our money back!”
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The unrest at the event, otherwise known as Testy Fest, had started festering before the gates even opened on Friday following the last-minute cancellation of the hotly-anticipated women’s oil wrestling competition.
The three-day hoedown, which charged up to $349 for a ticket, promised attendees three days of debauchery fueled by an abundance of beers, bands, and deep-friend bull testicles.
But the first 48 hours of the festival were marred by setbacks and shortcomings, with the repeated faux pas becoming too much for some to bear.
The final nail in the coffin for one group of disgruntled customers was seemingly struck on Saturday afternoon when event organizers announced there were no more bull testicles available for purchase.
The reason, they explained, was because brisk Autumnal winds had knocked out one of the event’s only fryers and organizers were having to scramble to a nearby store to purchase another.
The mishap also caused a significant delay to a scheduled ball eating competition that had been set to commence at 2pm, but was pushed back several times, before finally starting at 5pm.
By the time the event finally rolled around, the rules had been altered to account for the dwindling supply of testicles.
Instead of having 10 minutes to consume as many crown jewels as they could, competitors – who paid $19 to enter the contest – had only one.
The brief event ended in the flash of an eye to muted applause, however, things were getting much more animated back at the festival’s front gates where a group of attendees had gathered to demand a refund.
One woman and her partner squared off with a ticket information officer as security stood close by. Another couple joined the skirmish.
Flailing her arms and wagging her finger in an accusatory manner, one woman made several accusations of daylight “robbery,” citing the canceled or amended events, the lack of accessible alcohol, and the halted supply of balls.
“You’re going to get some horrible reviews,” she warned, insisting she wasn’t going anywhere until her refund was issued.
Jabs were exchanged over the course of a few minutes before the ticket officer angrily snapped at security to “escort these people off the f**king property.”
Security obliged and the group left empty-handed, though the spectacle unfolded in front of a line of guests who were mulling whether to enter the festival.
“I wouldn’t pay to go in there if I were you,” the woman warned as she was frogmarched up a dirt road.
“It’s terrible,” added a male counterpart.
“I came here for beers and t**ties – and I didn’t get either.”
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THE BREAST OF TIMES, THE WORST OF TIMES
In what the disgruntled gentleman may deem now to be a cruel sense of timing, mere moments after he and a group of others were removed from the event, a wild wet T-shirt contest commenced in an inflatable pool by the bar area.
Taking part in the event were several ladies, including adult performer ArkCollegeGirl, who had been specially invited by Testy Fest’s owner because he was a “big fan” of her work.
Even before the hose had been switched on, a predominantly male contingent of attendees had swarmed around the pool in a tight formation, visibly brimming with anticipation.
Those late to arrive were forced to clamber onto their friends’ shoulders or climb atop nearby cars and trucks to catch a glimpse of the action.
As soon as the women entered the water, a sea of cellphones were raised into the air, their cameras set to record and zoomed all the way in, as a din of heckles and yells of appreciation thundered out.
Across a period of several minutes, the women splashed and frolicked in the water, their breasts increasingly visible through their fast-dampened shirts.
ArkCollegeGirl decided to remove her bikini top beneath her T-shirt and launch it into the air, before taking her shirt off completely, exposing her breasts to the crowd.
The move was met by rapturous applause and several pleas from men shouting at her to “turn around” or “face this way.”
“Did you get that in 4K?” asked one man standing on his tiptoes, shouting in the direction of a friend with his phone out on the shoulders of another.
“Oh yeah, I got it,” replied the friend with a smug chortle.
OH, B***OCKS!
For the remainder of the night, the somewhat muted, yet jovial mood continued, and improved during the beard contest.
Among the hairy lineup was a Santa Claus impersonator and a lookalike of the actor Sam Elliot.
But the crown ultimately went to a biker named Hass, whose wife had been screaming in his favor from the front row throughout.
Though dissatisfaction was evident from some, there were a number of others who appeared to enjoy the festivities.
Several who were approached by The U.S. Sun said they were “loving it” or “having a great time,” though some conceded it hadn’t exactly been what they were expecting.
Speaking to event manager Alex about the complaints, she acknowledged there had been some but said people appeared to be “smiling now.”
For those who left early and disgruntled, she asked for a second chance, stressing this is the first multi-day music festival they’d attempted, and bumps in the road would be inevitable the first time around.
“The feedback has mostly been good,” she said on Saturday evening, insisting they’d sold so many balls they’d be completely out of stock before the weekend’s end.
“We’ve had some issues today, with the wind knocking out our fryer, so the balls were down for a few hours and people were not happy about that.
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“But most people seem to be happy and smiling now because they’re back up and running and we’re serving balls out of two different tents to make up for it.
“This is a brand new festival and the first time we’ve done a three-day music festival,” she continued.
“We could’ve used another 40-60 staff members … but for anyone who was angry please come back and give us another try.
“The balls are free flowing now … I wish I could hand them out for free because I want to make up for it today, I really do.”
GOING NUTS FOR…NUTS
Testy Fest’s celebrations kicked off on Friday under the surprisingly warm late October Arkansas sunshine on a sprawling plot of farming land a 20-minute drive from the town center.
Tickets for the event set back guests $20 for a weekend pass and rose as high as $349 for those with RVs who wanted to camp for the full three days with access to electricity and running water.
Testicle festivals are certainly no new concept, something the organizers of this latest iteration were aware of.
The idea to bring the first “Testy Fest” to Northwest Arkansas, Alex said, came from the shuttering of a long-standing annual bull ball-eating bonanza in Montana that ceased operations in 2016.
She nor any other organizers of Bentonville’s bash had ever been to a testicle festival, Alex admitted, but said the novelty of the concept was too good to pass up on.
“We thought, with the other festival closing, that left a large void for a party like this,” she said, as a woman behind her frantically shepherded a batch of balls into a deep-fat fryer, her hands caked in grease.
“And with the world as divided as it is today, people just need to let loose and have fun sometimes.
“And what better way to celebrate than with a testicle festival.”
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Testy Fest shipped in a metric ton of bull balls to fuel their mission to reunify society.
Otherwise known as Rocky Mountain Oysters, Cowboy Caviar, or Tendergroin, bull balls are a Mid-Western delicacy that is often deep-fried after being skinned, then coated in flour, salt and pepper.
Testy Fest stuck to the tried and tested recipe and first-timers were excited to sample the curious cuisine as they made their way through the event’s front gates.
“I’ve never had them before,” said one female visitor who drove more than an hour with her husband to be at Testy Fest on Friday.
“But I can’t wait to try some of these balls,” she added with a laugh.
A STIFF ATMOSPHERE
Ahead of the event, Alex had forecasted that upwards of 3,000 people would flock to Testy Fest, but by early evening on Friday, the number of revelers was dwindling somewhere near the lower to mid-hundreds.
Not helping the fact was the size of the venue, which, combined with only a handful of vendors and amenities, made the festival feel all the more sparse, stifling what organizers likely hoped would be a raucous and rambunctious atmosphere.
Still, the party scampered on, and its conductor was a master of ceremonies dressed up as Zach Galifianakis’ character from the comedy trilogy The Hangover, Alan, who had a pair of silicone balls dangling precariously from his waistband beside his brown satchel.
Following the oil-wrestling cancellation, the first event on the Testy Fest schedule was the Ballsy 500, a parody of the Daytona 500 that required participants to strip down to their swimsuits and ride a lime-green tricycle around the staging area, with the fastest rider winning $500.
A band of jock-strap-wearing men enthusiastically stepped up to the plate, mounting the trikes in their cowboy boots and hats, with their eyes trained keenly towards the checkered flag in front of them, and their bare butt-cracks exposed to the wind behind them.
“Unlike your balls, make sure you’re all even,” quipped the MC, ordering the racers to form a straight line on the starting blocks.
He then raised a starting pistol above his head and, after firing a few blanks, the scantily-clad racers were off and away with a bang.
After three heats, a Kansas native by the name of Dave was crowned the winner having scored a time of just over 41 seconds.
The U.S. Sun caught up with Dave a few hours later as he was dancing to a country music performer with his shirt off, and green and purple beads draped around his neck.
By the time of the interview, he’d already spent his winnings, deciding to splurge the handsome sum on half a gallon of Crown Royal Whiskey for himself and his buddies.
“It was great,” Dave said of his triumph, adding that he had no intentions of ending his celebrations early by hitting the sack any time soon.
“We’re going to party all night until the sun comes up.
“And then we’re going to carry on tomorrow and eat some nuts together.”
A BALLS UP?
Testy Fest’s third and final day – which The U.S. Sun did not attend – featured a motorcycle show and a ball throwing contest – both of which also carried a prize of $500.
Across the two days we were there, despite the best efforts of the friendly staff, the event wasn’t so much “nuts” as it was flaccid and awkward.
Perhaps it was the venue; perhaps it was a lack of organization; perhaps it was rotten luck; perhaps it was the county the organizers chose to host the event in, which had until recently been dry.
But the festival – for two-thirds of the event, at least – was certainly not the ball that had been promised.
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