THE KILLING STALLS

[BOWELBLIGHTER]

with apologies to Dith "BLOODY BEDPAN" Pran

SOMETHING AWFUL HAS HAPPENED.

I SPENT ALL WEEKEND EATING UNRIPE BANANAS FOR BREAKFAST AND DRINKING ANCHOR STEAM PORTER THE REST OF THE DAYS. MY FRIEND SAM HAD A BBQ WHERE WE ATE CHICKEN CURRY AND BAKED FUCKING BEANS - WAYY EPIC. SAMMY WON THE EGG TOSS AND HIS WIFE SHOWED US ALL HER SAGGY TITTIES - THOSE THINGS WERE CADILLACS AT ONE TIME, YOU CAN TELL. I ENDED UP PASSED OUT IN THE BUSHES - MY GIRL HAD TO ASK FOR HELP DRAGGING ME TO THE CAR WHEN SHE WAS READY TO LEAVE.

I HAD SOME TROUBLE DIGESTING EVERYTHING, AND BY LATE SUNDAY NIGHT I WAS IN REAL GODDAMN PAIN. MY INNARDS WERE CHURNING AND GROANING, AND IT LOOKED LIKE I WAS WEARING A FLESHY INNER TUBE FILLED WITH STRUGGLING EELS. I HADN'T SHAT FOR 4-5 DAYS - IT WAS PROBABLY THOSE BANANAS, MASHED TOGETHER INTO A COMPLETELY IMPERMEABLE CLOUD OF FIBER AT THE TERMINUS OF MY DIGESTIVE TRACT.

I DRANK 10 SHOTS OF RUMPLEMINTS SO I COULD PASS OUT, IT SEEMED TO WORSEN THE SLUDGE THOUGH.

MORNING CAME, AND MY MIDRIFF WAS SOLID TO THE TOUCH. I DRANK A POT OF COFFEE - NO GO, NOT EVEN A WEE FART. OFF TO WORK I WENT.

WITHIN AN HOUR, I WAS ON THE THRONE, PUSHING DOWN HARD. IT FELT LIKE THERE WAS A FURRY BRICK IN MY GUTS. I HAD NO LUCK AFTER 35 MINUTES OF SWEATY EFFORT. I WENT BACK TO MY DESK AND TRIED TO GET SOME WORK DONE.

THREE MORE VISITS THROUGHOUT THE DAY, AND TROUBLE WAS LOOMING. I WAS FEARFUL, I KNEW SOMETHING PRETTY MEATY WAS GONNA GO DOWN, AND SOON.

I MANAGED TO MAKE IT TO THE END OF THE DAY, WHN MOST FOLKS WERE GONE, EXCEPT THE SALES TEAM, POUNDING AWAY AT THE PHONES, SUCKING THE BRAINS OF THEIR POOR tARGETS THROUGH THE RECEIVERS OF THEIR SHITTY FLIP PHONES.

I STAGGERED BACK INTO THE BATHROOM, FELL RIGHT TO THE FLOOR AND STARTED WRITHING. I ENDED UP ON MY STOMACH, ROLLING BACK AND FORTH, TRYING TO LOOSEN THE MASS. AFTER 15 MINUTES OF THAT, I FELT A SICKENING click AND A BURNING SENSATION SHOT THROUGH MY CIRCULATORY SYSTEM. I GROPED FOR THE EDGE OF THE THRONE AND PULLED MYSELF UP AND OVER INTO A POSITION FOR EXPELLATION.

AS THIS CAME TO BE, IN WALTZED IN THE "WEATHER GUYS", AS I CALL THEM. THEY OPERATED THE RADIO SHOP IN THE BACK OF THE FLOOR, THE DODDERING OLD FUCKS, AND THEY WERE CONSTANT VISITORS TO THE BATHROOM. YOU'D BE IN THERE, TOILING AWAY AND FUNKING UP THE AIR, AND THEY'D BE WASHING THEIR HANDS METICULOUSLY AMID THE VIOLENCE OF THE STALLS, DISCUSSING THE WEATHER IN MINUTE DETAIL, APPARENTLY ENJOYING THE BARRAGE OF STENCHES AND SAVORING THE MOANS OF SATISFACTION AND EFFORT.

GOD KNOWS WHY THESE ROTTING FIENDS LOVED THE HEAD SO MUCH, BUT IN THEY CAME FOR THE 17th TIME THAT DAY TO TALK SHOP. RIGHT THEN MY WAVE OF WASTE WAS CRESTING, SCREAMING THROUGH MY INTESTINES, SEEKING THE EXIT WITH A SEARING FEROCITY. MY BALLS PULLED UP INTO MY STOMACK, AND GOOSEBUMPS SHOT DOWN MY LEGS. IT WAS LIKE A BURP GUN WENT OFF AND ECHOED BLISTERINGLY IN THE BOWL - ONCE, TWICE, FIVE TIMES. AT FIRST THE GAS RUSHED OUT, THEN A RENDING RIPPING TORRENT OF SHIT SPAT OUT AND PAINTED THE PORCELAIN DARK BROWN. AS THE SALVOS FLEW, THE WEATHER GUYS WERE SCREAMING AND TEARING AT THEIR HAIR AND FACES, SLUMPING DOWN EVENTUALLY INTO LIMP RAGS OF STEAMING FLESH.

THE HAIR ON MY ASS CRACKLED AND BURNED UP, AND I WAS EMITTING A LOW-STRUNG HOWL AS THE PAIN OF RELEASE WASHED OVER ME. I THINK A FEW RASPBERRIES CAME OUT ALONG WITH WHAT FELT LIKE A PINE CONE. THE SOUNDS OF IMPACT BEGAN TO LESSEN, AS THE BOWL FILLED UP LIKE A SOFT-SERVE CONE. A DULL-SEATED RUMBLE ACCENTED THE FINAL COUPLE OF BLASTS, PROBABLY THE WAX GASKET COMING UNSEATED BELOW ME. I LEANED FORWARD ONTO MY KNEES AND SAT THERE PANTING, WHILE THE WEATHER GUYS MUTTERED INCONSOLABLY.

MISTS AND VAPORS STREAMED UPWARD AND FOULED THE DROP CEILING, AND ALL WAS PEACEFUL FOR A MINUTE OR TWO.

THEN THE OLD BLACK CLEANING LADY, MAKING HER ROUNDS, WAS HEARD WHEELING HER CART DOWN THE HALL OUTSIDE, HUMMING HYMNS WITH A LOOSE THROATY VIBRATO. THE OLD BAT WAS BLIND AND WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE. SHE PASSED A RAG OVER THE FIXTURES AND LET DIRECT-DEPOSIT DO THE REST.

SHE GAVE HER CUSTOMARY KNOCK AT THE DOOR, AND CHOKED OUT SOME UNINTELLIGIBLE PHRASE OF WARNING. THE WEATHER GUYS SHIFTED, BUT COULDN'T DO ANYTHING ELSE. THE LADY CAME IN BEHIND HER CART AND STARTED WIPING STUFF. AT FIRST, SHE NOTICED NOTHING...BUT AS THE BITTER FUMES ENVELOPED HER, SHE STARTED CHOKING AND GAGGING AND SCREAMING "HAILLL LORRRRRD, HAAAAVE MERCYYYYYY" OVER AND OVER.SHE SLIPPED ON A STEAMING PUDDLE AND FELL UNTO THE FLOOR IN A WRITHING BAG OF BONE DISTRESS.

I BEGAN TO REVIVE, AND REALIZED THAT I HAD TO GET THE FUCK OUT, AND FAST. I WASN'T QUITE DONE, THOUGH...I GROANED AND BUNCHED UP AND PUSHED...AND OUT CAME A TOOTSIE-ROLL SIZED BRAID OF WASTE, PROBABLY THE CULPRIT THAT CAUSED THE BLOCKAGE...A FIBROUS, DENSE, CARBON-RICH TENDRIL OF RESTRAINT. I KNOCKED THAT OFF QUICK, WIPED MY HIND WITH A ROLL OF PAPER HELD SIDEWAYS, AND LEAPFROGGED THE STILL-PRONE FORMS ON MY WAY TO FREEDOM.

I DID A LITTLE WORK, THEN SIGNED OUT AND HIT THE ELEVATORS, FEELING PRETTY DARN HUNGRY. MEXICAN, MAYBE?

[Douchebag]

this board is full of SAICK DEGENERATE MAGGOTS. i'm going to KILL you bowelblighter and i'm going to ENJOY it

[Screw_Michigan]

another entry from tards.net. fan-fucking-tastic.

[peter dragon]

fabulous!

[TVO]

...THE HAIR ON MY ASS CRACKLED AND BURNED UP, AND I WAS EMITTING A LOW-STRUNG HOWL AS THE PAIN OF RELEASE WASHED OVER ME....

All this talk is making my flacid weenie get mushy and my mouth water.

[Goober McTuber]

^^^^
OTST.

[PSUFAN]

Douchebag, you ain't killin' SHIT - unless it's another gallon bottle of amyl nitrite, you FAIRY.

[Goober McTuber]

^^^^
OTST.

Here's the post where I will be trolling you today.

In one post, BOWELBLIGHTER eclipsed anything you've ever done in your entire shit-posting career.

I understand. You don't really mean it. You're just trying to troll me. Not going to work, tubby.

[Jsc's Deathbed]

A colon hasn't seen that much abuse since Jsc's last visit to the doctor.

[PSUFAN]

Jesus...does this guy work in my building? Someone's trying to make the tiles drop off the wall - every day, like clockwork. At least the dude's getting his fiber, I guess.