Well, it comes as no surprise that I am not going to advance in the Mock Wars. Once Orange Juice Bruce brought pictures into the whole thing, I knew it was over. You folks SURE love your pictures. They're the shiny objects of your retardation. Hey folks watch this!
Oh boy, surely now I will have the love and adoration of dozens of sniveling screwheads! Forget all those years of risking my life in service on this country, I can use Photoshop! You bunch of girls.
That said, Orange Juice Bruce is a damn good man. I'd have fought alongside him any day.
But now let me tell you folks another story. One that will hopefully teach you about survival against the forces of evil.
It all started many years ago, at Joe Headquarters. Most of the gang was out on a mission checking out what appeared to be a volcano with a cobra head carved in the side, while Quick Kick and I were picked to stay behind. He decided he was gonna cook up some of his chiney chewy ethno-food for us while we sat around like lumps of shit. You know how those people are.
Well, being a super-secret government organization, it's hard to procure our own supplies outside of Uncle Sam's tab. So needless to say, some of the food items that were used were questionable at best. But by the urgings of a slanty-eyed martial artist, and the rumblings of my stomach, I shoveled in as much food as I could handle. It actually wasn't too bad... or so I thought.
Well, an hour goes by, and I'm hungry again. You know how that asian food is - Goes right through you. And I mean that. As I got up to head back for some leftovers, I must have jarred something loose, and I was overcome with a feeling of dread and terror. That feeling you get when you know bad things are about to happen.
I did my best to make my way to the nearest bathroom. Joe Headquarters is a big place, with a lot of people in it at any given time. We have two restrooms; One for boys, and one for girls. That's it, and both were basically felt they might as well have been on the other side of the country. As it were, they were only down the hall. But when your ass is falling out, it's an adventure nonetheless.
I tiptoed my way down the corridor, doing my best Snake Eyes impersonation, afraid that stepping too hard on the ground would send shockwaves through my body and make me lose what little control I managed to maintain. Whimpering with each step, getting closer and closer to my goal.
Closer now. The door almost within reach. The knob looking like the world's greatest treasure as I shakily extended a hand to grab it. And it won't turn.
"Occupied!" I heard Quick Kick's frightened voice from inside.
Thankfully, the ladies' room was right across the hall, so no more horrifying journey's through the annals of the HQ. Sorry if that disappoints you, butt pirates.
In what felt like a flash of a moment, I found myself sitting down inside a pink stall, and facing the single worst experience I would ever face. And I've fought dinosaurs.
It wasn't so much that I was pushing the crap out of my anus, as it was leaping out of my body, like seaman abandoning a sinking ship. All my muscle control was used up holding this in until i could find a toilet, and now I was at the mercy of the demons inside of my intestines.
Liquid fire and fury erupted from my sphincter over and over. Have you ever taken a piss that really, really burned? Imagine that feeling in your asshole. I'm man enough to admit that I cried, and NONE of you can tell me that you wouldn't have if you were in my positions.
The devil feces continued to rip its way through my body, when I suddenly heard and explosion that DIDN'T come from my ass.
COBRA had just invaded Joe Headquarters.
It seems that they had planned for the Joes to investigate the volcano, and were going to bust into the lightly-guarded base, and steal government secrets, which they would then sell to the highest bidder of whatever country whose names I can't pronounce.
And here, Quick Kick and I were unable to stop them. Or were we?
As I heard the storming of boots running through the building, I knew I had to do something. I knew they would search out and dispose of any stray Joes. I knew they would come in here. Now I knew, and knowing is half the battle. The other half? Was gonna be messy.
I struggled to stand up, and grimaced at the feel of liquid brown trickling down the back of my thighs. I worked my way to the bathroom door, pants still around my ankles forcing me to waddle. I wiped the sweat from my brow, and got on my back and lifted my legs into the air. I said a silent prayer for Quick Kick, and gathered up all the strength I had.
With a bang, the door flew open. From my obscured view, I could only make out a few soldiers standing in the doorway, taken aback by the unexpected sight. It was all the time I needed. I summoned forth a power from deep inside, and unleashed a force of concentrated evil from my puckered star. With a flatulent explosion, the molten-lava poop erupted, splashing onto the troops like some kind of smelly tsunami. It’s funny how us humans work; Someone else’s poop touches you, and you will FREAK OUT. They could have killed me if they had kept level heads, but COBRA was never known for their level heads. Screams and wretches of disgust filled the headquarters, as panicked soldiers tried to run away. Some slipped on my drippings, and found themselves face down in a puddle of what once was fried dumplings and squid. Others were more successful in their escape.
I flipped up and onto my feet, spun around on my heels, and proceeded to back up toward the remaining enemies. Machine gun bursts of air carried mudlike projectiles to their targets, forcing more of them to admit smelly defeat. I crapped for all I was worth, and then crapped some more.
That’s when I felt it. It felt like something ruptured inside of me. I doubled over in pain as my asshole burned more painful than ever. And staring down between my legs, I began to see brownish red dripping down.
Reluctantly, I reached back between my cheeks. Among the cold wetness of shit and the wiry hairs that nested around my nether hole, I felt a swollen protrusion. It felt like a sticky bun; a swirling lump of gooeyness. My asshole hat literally fallen out.
Few enemies remained, but all you need is one man with a gun to finish off an injured man. The shock of being assaulted with diarrhea and the visage of my trunk butt was wearing off, and they were raising their guns. I knew I was as good as dead. Of course, typing this now, you know I survived, but just TRY to stay in the moment, folks.
Just then, Quick Kick emerged from the other bathroom, standing victoriously in front of a heap of COBRA scum and what looked like aborted black babies. It was obvious that his stomach troubles were far worse than mine. With a smirk, he leapt after our invaders, and proceeded to launch a sprinkler of doom from his anus.
Soon after, it was all over. Quick Kick and I lay in the defiled hallway, exhausted from our endeavors, but relieved of our survival. The next thing I remembered was waking up to my comrades standing over us with covered mouths and looks of disbelief.
“We’re out of toilet paper,” I quipped. A good laugh was had by all. And for the next few months, I was known as Shitwreck.
So what did we learn, kids?
1) Buying seafood from a straw shack off the coast of Thailand when you’re taking on Cobra-la is not always a good idea.
2) Nobody – NOBODY – likes being pooped on by a stranger. Not even people who say they’re into that, sexually.
3) If your asshole falls out, do not try to push it back in. Get to a hospital immediately.
Now you know, and knowing is half the battle!
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