This site is a testament to not only my life but to the insanity of society. Dive into Psycho Carnival and you'll find tragicomic personal stories, wild yet honest rants, a little depravity, videos and a buttload of other goodies.

This site also contains adult like humor and ideas that could make you think. Consider yourself warned!

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Crazy Bear and Volcano Butt

At least I'm over the sinus infection and bronchitis. My arms and elbows are still giving me trouble, however. I've been to 2 different doctors who say I've got tennis elbow. I've been taking this, supposedly strong, anti-inflammatory medication for it, since Wednesday but so far, it has been of minimal help with the pain. It doesn't help that I'm in a distribution center where I do a lot of repetitious work.

But, as I've mentioned, I'm not sick anymore. So that's something.

I frequently get sick. It usually takes a strong anti-biotic to knock the shit out of my system. One of the worst times I've ever been sick was when I went camping with a bunch of friends. This occurred about 15 years ago but I remember it with much fondness. I call this unfortunate, true story....


One night, as I'm walking around with my friends, sister and brother-in-law at a huge flea market out in the middle of nowhere, it is mutually decided that we walk back to our campground, a quarter of a mile away, to do a bit of drinking. It is kind of chilly. About forty degrees. At the time, I was a little sick but not feeling that bad. A sore throat. Some snot in my nose. No big deal. So I believed. I found out my decision to drink would be a poor one, though.

So we get to our large green tent in the primitive area. The "primitive area" means there are no bathrooms or water fountains within a quarter of a mile of the entire site. There's about ten of us. And we're all drinking, having a righteous good time in the middle of no-man's-land. I think I had a couple swigs of peppermint schnapps, along with my one beer. Yum. Several hours later, we turn in and pass out on the canvas tent floor. It's incredibly cramp in the tent, with no space between bodies. When someone belched or farted, you were going to smell it. No way to escape it.

Sure enough, in the middle of the night, I feel the bile rising up in my throat. As I'm struggling to crawl over bodies in complete darkness, pee dribbles down my leg. I panic. Now I'm rushing to get the hell out of the tent, not caring who's head I crush with a kneecap. I barely am able to unzip the tent door and jump out when every human waste liquid known to man gushes forth from every orifice, simultaneously. Fountains of vomit leap out of my mouth like a broken Hoover Dam. Torrents of anus gravy explode out of my butt with such force, I swear the back of my jeans have blown out. My male member unloads two and half quarts of piss as I gargle multi-colored puke out onto the cold hard ground. I'm on my hands and knees, silently begging for death. I try desperately to hold back my enraged fluids but to no avail. I am in hell as I shake, puke, piss and shit like some monstrous human crap sprinkler. Intermittently, as I attempt to stop heaving, a strange, bear-like roar is unleashed from my throat. At least, that's how my sister has described it.

Finally, my sister comes out. I'm surprised no one had heard me before. Later, someone told me that they had heard me but were afraid to come out. They thought they heard a monster. It was me.

My sister, thankfully, brought out some rags and a pair of shorts for me to use. I had to strip off all of my clothes as they were completely soiled. I wiped the various chunks of stuff off of me and then changed clothes, stumbling over a rock, while doing so. Extremely dehydrated and exhausted, I drug my limp, foul body back inside the tent and collapsed. It seemed the good times were over.

In the morning, everyone regains consciousness and begins to rise. When they look at me, they see a pale form lying still on the floor. My arms are crossed over my chest (in burial fashion) and my eyes are swollen shut. They actually thought I was a goner. Luckily, my sister traveled to the parking area and brought my car to me when I resurrected from the grave. I left the campground with a chafed anus, bloody raw throat and pounding grey matter. Hardly able to see through my watering eyes, I made it back home. A miracle.

A day later, either my wife or mother were doing me the favor of washing my jeans. The same jeans that had been so ruthlessly abused during my puking escapade. Feeling something hard in the lower pants leg, she became curious and reached up inside to pull out a dry, foot long solid turd.

What a delightful surprise.



spacklehorse said...

Gaseous Friendshit!

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