Date: Sunday, 4th June 2006Time: 10:00 am
Place: The shitter at my mom's place
I woke up yesterday, feeling o.k for some one who had twice their body weight in alcohol consumption the previous night.
What can I say? Saturday was just set to be the perfect scenario to get totally shit-faced.
It was the first Springbok rugby match in ages. Hopes were high and spirits were soaring (and flowing) in anticipation of the boks' clash with the World XV team.
Needless to say the game was a total disaster. Although we won, we didn't really win the way we should have.
Which is primarily the reason we kept on drinking to a point that's considered "bad to personal health"
"Bad to personal health" is exactly what it was. I woke up on Sunday with the Incredible Hulk of Babbelas shits. Dsaa-yom! I swear. As i was struggling to get free from this turd, I thought I heard it say:"Hulk Bash! Hulk Smash!"
I was in the crapper for so long, I heard my "missing persons" add on the radio while I was still busy wrestling with this thing.All I could think of was the Austen Powers movie quote:"Who does Mr.2 Work for!?!?" That quote saved my life. It took all my will power and high pain tolerance to get that evil piece of shit out of my body. As I was sitting on that cold, unforgiving piece of white porcelain, I could feel it tearing me another a-hole.
I was in the crapper for so long, I heard my "missing persons" add on the radio while I was still busy wrestling with this thing.All I could think of was the Austen Powers movie quote:"Who does Mr.2 Work for!?!?" That quote saved my life. It took all my will power and high pain tolerance to get that evil piece of shit out of my body. As I was sitting on that cold, unforgiving piece of white porcelain, I could feel it tearing me another a-hole.
After about 45minutes of blood, sweat and lots and lots of tears. I heard the enlightening splash in the toilet bowl. It was finally over. I survived. I showed The Incredible Hulk-turd from hell who's boss and I was proud of myself. As I turned around to flush. I saw it in all it's horror. I couldn't believe my blood-shot eyes. That poop was the size of a fucking Fiat Uno.
I stood in front of that turd. Victorious and conceited! I felt like Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius...or something like that...you get my point.
Basically I'm just glad it's over.
4 comments:
That sounds like a 3-flush shit! It takes three flushes and a little push before it drowns.
i had to beat that thing with a stick to get it down the toilet
and there my cat has jippo guts the whole weekend...
Dude, your cat doesn't know how lucky it is...
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