The fat man undid his belt and pulled down his pants until they were around his knees. He was looking forward to this bowel movement, having not defecated since last night's dinner of clam chowder, chili fries, and Mr. Pibb. His love handles left streaks of sweat on each side of the bathroom stall as he lowered himself onto the toilet.
He grunted. Nothing came out. He strained a bit, making a hemorrhoid protrude and wiggle like a hooked worm, but produced no fecal matter. Exasperated, he put every ounce of effort he could muster into achieving his goal. His meaty fists clenched, his already flushed face turned crimson, and with a sound like someone twisting bubble wrap, his rectum prolapsed.
A foot-long section of colon descended into the toilet. Like an elephant's trunk, it sucked up every drop of water in the bowl before retreating to the safety of its cavernous anal lair.
The fat man rocked back and forth on his haunches, sloshing the liquid around his lower tract.
"Mmm," he said. "That feels good. Daylight's burning though, so bomb's away!"
What came out was not only toilet water and the digested remnants of recent meals, but everything he had stuffed into his anus in the last couple of years. This included (but was not limited to) Christmas-tree glitter, prayer beads, boogers that would not leave his finger no matter how much he tried to flick them away, and a jury summons.
Feeling refreshed, he went home early from work and beat his mother to death with a bicycle chain.
He grunted. Nothing came out. He strained a bit, making a hemorrhoid protrude and wiggle like a hooked worm, but produced no fecal matter. Exasperated, he put every ounce of effort he could muster into achieving his goal. His meaty fists clenched, his already flushed face turned crimson, and with a sound like someone twisting bubble wrap, his rectum prolapsed.
A foot-long section of colon descended into the toilet. Like an elephant's trunk, it sucked up every drop of water in the bowl before retreating to the safety of its cavernous anal lair.
The fat man rocked back and forth on his haunches, sloshing the liquid around his lower tract.
"Mmm," he said. "That feels good. Daylight's burning though, so bomb's away!"
What came out was not only toilet water and the digested remnants of recent meals, but everything he had stuffed into his anus in the last couple of years. This included (but was not limited to) Christmas-tree glitter, prayer beads, boogers that would not leave his finger no matter how much he tried to flick them away, and a jury summons.
Feeling refreshed, he went home early from work and beat his mother to death with a bicycle chain.
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