"Oh, my ass!" I cried, curling my hands into fists and pounding futilely at my thighs, at the walls, at anything to make the pain go away. The pain in my fists paled in comparison to what was coming out of my cornhole, but it helped divert my attention, if only a little.
With that, I welcome you to my Tomoview of what is quite possibly, the two worst pages in the history of the written word.
I give you THE SHIT SCENE by The Visionary Overlord.
I gagged on the stench of my aborted anal love children and hit the air freshener nozzle -- hard.
Aborted Anal Love Children would be a great band name, or a great name for Dead Kennedys B side collection.
I was dying inside.
I know the feeling.
Deep-fried anal calamari
Shithead, everybody knows if you want the full flavor experience from anal calamari, you sautee it, not deep fry.
I was a prisoner of my own ass.
I'm caught in crap / I can't walk out / Because I shit too much baby.
like Louis Armstrong was using my asshole for a trumpet.
Feel free to make up your own joke for that line. I'm not going to even honor that with a joke.
I felt a moment's relief, but knew it was a lie.. That wasn't the way my shit worked. It was trying to trick me so I would shit my pants later.
Forget shitting your pants, I want to trick The Visionary Overlord in to marinating the third rail.
a fight to the death between body, bowels, and brain
This would have been the fucking perfect blurb for this book.
There were literally times when I wanted to die on the toilet, to get this shit over with -- permanently.
Hey, it worked for the King. So I guess it should work for THE VISIONARY OVERLORD!!!
My own body lived to betray me -- first by sprouting caveman like hair and boils up and down my back, then by turning my ass inside out on a nearly-daily basis.
Could be worse, your body could have given you carpet dick.
and couldn't go anywhere if there was even a hint of a "brown-out" brewing in my backdoor.
I so want to open up my own brewery. I will call it Backdoor Brewing, and my signature beer will be Brown-Out Stout. I'm betting I can retire off just the money I will make from shipments to Canada.
This ends page one of THE SHIT SCENE. Joing us tomorrow, for part two THE WIPING!