my butthole...

duders,
my butthole started out this morning looking like this: *
yup.
tight, bright, and alright-
but after today's doings,
it looks a whole lot more like this: O
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
that's quite a stretch, huh?
you bet your intact A* it is.
ahhh, it's not offically 'sploded,
but it sure does feel like it...
no.
i don't have food poisoning.
no.
i haven't decided to take up seatless unicycling.
no.
it's not any sort of tangible tearing of tissues.
c'mon.
it's more of an esoteric terror,
like conceptual art, but with much more butthole.
awwww, man.
-
anyway,
have you ninjas ever met my better half?
she's pretty flipping endearing,
not to mention turbo hot.
as such,
she's got plenty of better options available to her
than having to hang out over here with me
on a turgid, torpid thursday night.
you can figure out what that means, yeah?
that's exactly right, neighbors-
i'm on my own tonight,
master and sole proprietor of
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
and that's probably a good thing, kids,
after the heroic expansion of my whole wide world
directly and indirectly as the result of a metaphoric
metaphysical meteoric monstrous F*ing of my A*
right off of my body and into the realm
of the marginally obscene
i'd kind of prefer to be alone with what's left of it.
***********
ice packs and snow storms and cold, empty beds.
something is going on,
and someone is obviously kidding me.
until i discover the culprit,
it's sore seats and hot seats and A*kicking
and whatever else could possibly happen.
it all really is.
home alone, mutha-funkers;
never quiet, never soft.....