2004-07-12 - 9:50 a.m.
Pencopal's on deadline. She leaves you with the shitstorm that is AgentCrunked:
TRIMSPA: MORE DEADLY THAN A RABID LEMUR
I went outside to smoke a cigarette and to mail a letter. Or maybe it was a Kabbalah donation to get me one step closer to Madonna, I mean Esther. I admit to neither.
To exit my house you need to hold the lock open with one hand and open the door with the other. When I have full use of my facilities, I leave the door ajar when I step out for second, but this morning my hangover was such that I slammed the door shut. I enjoyed my cigarette in sweet, sweet ignorance.
After taking that last, long drag of immanent cancer into my lungs, I went to walk back inside, but the goddamned door was locked and I was stuck outside. Where the hell is Esther and her red bracelet now? Oh well, I thought, my spidey sense tells me the hidden key is in the back near the deck. I grabs the key box and upon opening it I see a solitary key. Motherfucker. That key unlocks the gate, but the key for the backdoor...missing.
Oh shit...I'm screwed and not by a 6'5" muscle bound stud like I want to be. Oh shit is right, because the turtles are a-pokin' and I don't mean the kind kids keep in cute little jars. I've got to take a major dump. To get ready for my vacation, I'm taking some pills to help me diet, coupled with the Anna Nicole Smith Shrinking Trimspa. Usually, the Trimspa gets my backdoor stopped up quicker than a butt plug, but then the flood gates are released and its bathroom or bust.
Panic licked at my heels, but I remembered my bedroom window was unlocked. Luckily, Pedro, Penis for Hire, forgot to hide the ladder when he left last night, so there it is, like a fucking lucky charm.
I put the ladder to the window, squeezed my sphincter, and started climbing. The ladder was an old, wobbly thing, and like a genius I decided to go feet first. Not a smart idea. I got one foot in, but couldn't get the other one in. The ladder started to shimmy a little, then it started moving, fast. I was able to stop it and removed the leg that was jammed in through the window. Ever flexible, I tried to go in head first. It started working�it wasn't easy, but it was working. OH CRAP, I thought. Not because the ladder was moving or because I couldn't get into the bedroom, but because I farted...and a wee bit of shit soiled my underwear. Believe me, it's worse than when you puke a little in your mouth. It was wet and nasty and after two seconds it fucking reeked. Can you believe that...I shit my fucking pants! With one last thrust of power I hurled myself into the bedroom, the ladder fell to the ground with a huge crash, and I ran for the border.
Now I'm at home, venting my spleen, happy and clean. The moral of the story: TRIMSPA IS A BITCH!
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