Well boys and girls, its happened again. My shitty luck has turned truly fecal. After my normal off-work stretch at 9 am I settled down to watch Jerry on tv and get my boost of self esteem. Sat in cat puke. It seems that one of my anti-cannine friends had felt a little left out and decided to remind me that he/she(?) was still around and heaved up a pile of half digested Meow Mix right in the spot I prefer to plant my own bulbous ass when glued to the idiot box. That warm moist feeling in my undergarrment was not my own and I imediately knew. A hand full of cat cud let my dears be reality and I knew I was on my way to the porciline goddess to offer up my own breakfast. So, here I am hurling my Aunt Jemmima frozen waffles out and I notice a crack in the side of the bowl. Suddenly a single thought, clear as a pimple on the highschool prom queens nose, comes leaping to the front of my brain.
DUDE! YOU HAD WAFFLES FOR BREAKFAST!
SouthPark overload ensues and I hear my good friend Matt “So what if Im retired” Johnson doing his best Towelie voice
Better bring a towel!
At this point, Im laughing and wreching so hard that I burst a bunch of blood vessels in my eyes. No big deal, I dont have any plans for the day other than the couch and here. That popped off the list as soon as I got word that my guy The Vin Meister had broke down and needed some expert help. WTF? If he needed and expert, why the hell call me? I have trouble changing my mind. So off I go in search of automotive roadside surgery in my little 4 banging coupe. I find the Vin Guy on the side of the road, help him get his ride fired and follow him back to his house.
Apparently, his cat had been out all day and had piled the remains of his kill discreetly in the side yard next to where I parked.
DUDE YOU HAD BALOGNA FOR LUNCH!
Againn I burst out laughing so hard that I barely notice the mixed nuts and potato chips that are now dripping down my beard. I wipe off the best I can with my hand and the cat for a towel (I wish I had listened to Matt) and headed in to discuss the failed pacemaker in Vins car. Vin camr thru like a trooper, never mentioning the smell of my balogna and chip lunch making a return appearence.
We bullshit for a few and I politely make my exit. The drive home is uneventful till I crossed the state line going a bit faster than the posted speed limit. Obviously the trooper didnt think my car had a right to be motoring past him at warp speed and proceded to engage in a high speed chase that ended before his lights came on.
SON YOU BEEN DRINKIN??? LET ME SMELL YOUR BREATH!
Not the best idea in the world and I didnt know how to tell him so. In my best stable voice, I told him that I wasnt feeling well (and thats true, I was feeling rather ill down below the equator) and that he probably shouldnt be sniffing around my oral opening.
One good whiff and he was holding onto the hood of my car barfing himself. After helping him the best I could, he asked me why I smelled like Texas roadkill thats been on the road all day. I told him.
He let me go with a simply wave of his hand before the dry heaves could catch his attention. I collected myself and off I went.
Seeings how I hadnt anything In my stomach, I decided to stop for dinner supplies. I couldnt make up my mind on what I wanted, so the bachelors standby was the ticket. One frozen pizza later, Im sitting on the couch watching the history channel when the gurgling from below begins. There three things Ive learned in my old age.
- Dont waste a hard on
2.Cheap beer is more palitable when you look at the cost
3.NEVER trust a wet fart.
Heeding rule 3, I make a mad dash to my office with intentions of faxing the governor my newest plans for fixing the world. I plop my rather rotund posterior down on the ring and prepare myself for the anal explosion that is sure to come by grabbing the bowl underneath my ass and holding on for dear life. 15 minutes into my asshole opera, middle of the second chorus, I notice my hand getting wet. Not one to let anything unexpected go by without a look-see, I lift my hand to inspect. I find that theres a long brown smear across the palm of my hand just before the bowl split in two (remember that crack I spoke of?) and landed me on the floor in a puddle of toilet water and lumpy ass juice.
I assume that the tub still works and jump right in and start to disrobe under the shower head. All the while, Im clenching my noisemaker shut cus I dont want to crap on the floor.
My mental anguish now has me to the point where I can only wonder"should I shit in the shower or hold it till I can drive to the gas station?".
