Friday, November 6, 2009

The Bubblies

I find that my colon’s kryptonite is that of the wing variety, from hot to honey. Give me any amount of those delicious little fowls and I am likely to fellate the lot of you. However these little birds pay me back from beyond the grave with Bettlejuice insanity on my rectum. They bestow upon me the little gift known as the bubblies.

One of the most terrifying feelings in the world is the bubblies. You know what I mean. It starts with a small rumble/stomach gargle, then your brow and upper lip start to perspire as if you were just caught cheating on your wife. Like lighting it hits you that this shit is going down quicker than Justin Guarini’s music career.

It started early one October morning around 5am. A night of a wing feast to end all wing feasts had me soundly asleep. Instead of rumbles and gargles, my stomach was at war with itself…300 style. My stomach was hit with an invisible hot knife. Sweat began to bead off my face like a fat kid waiting at the ice cream truck on a hot summer day. I said to myself its nothing…sleep it off. My mind kicked me one more time in a stomach as if to say “Who are you kidding?!”.

I sprang to life, being that I sleep naked I had to find something to cover myself up before making my break to the bathroom. It was a frantic search for shorts and a t shirt. All the while my stomach kept on churning. I raced to the first bathroom only to find it occupied. I cursed the mighty Zeus for that. I felt the onslaught of shit coming quicker then one of my premature ejaculations. I raced to the second bathroom. I barely had time to position my cheeks over the throne as a hot stream of waste slide out my buttock. Pain and sweat was written over my face as I stared at myself in the mirror taking this mighty dump. As I type this now I tremble for the memories I tried to repress from that morning. It was one of the roughest moments of my life. I got up after barely surviving the rape of my digestive tract. My legs were weak from the fight and stomach hinting at the fact that there might be a second wave. I looked down to see the orange goo that laid in the bowl that could only be describe as gallons of what I could only imagine that Gerber carrot baby food looks like. I flushed and as I watch mounts of liquefied wings go down I was relived.

In close FDR said, “All we have to fear is fear itself.” Ladies and Gentlemen I add to that we also must also fear the bubblies. For like the Koreans, they can strike at any time and any hour.

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