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 Bull ShatPosted 08.27.2008 by The Regifter (50)
Oh, the college days. Drinking, drinking, eating, and drinking. Did I forget about studying? Yeah, I did then, too. Oh, the innocence. This was before my overnight in jail for drunk-and-disorderly conduct. This was before my move to Austin from Buffalo. A couple of years before I knew anything about a Texas Longhorn, a Black Angus or "wrastling" a steer. All I knew was I liked my Buffalo wings hot and my bad gringo Mexican food hotter.
But I was proud. Proud of my accomplishments, proud of my failures, proud to be an American, and ready to prove myself to the world. One night, I decided to study for my class -- my class on drinking twenty-five-cent draft beer at a local watering hole, that is. I had a test coming up so, I tested how many cheap beers I could drink. I thought I aced it. But, I was hungry for more knowledge. So, after the bar closed, I studied at a cheap local taco joint around the corner. You know, the kind that describes their hottest taco sauce as "suicidal", "the A-bomb" or "The Blastard". As I consumed four of the fiery mediocre tacos, little did I know I would get an A in that class as well. The next day, after my morning rituals, I went to my calculus class feeling a little worn and hungover as any college student would; but I would live. The problem was getting to my next class. While walking down the hall, suddenly, out of the poo, I spewed out a shocking Australian thunder. My winker scent out a stinker and it smelled of impending doom. My colon started to spasm from my poor culinary decision. The volcano wants to blow, you gots to go! The hot magma swelled up inside me as I raced down the halls to a remote bathroom for privacy. "This eruption will be devastating to the population," I thought as I sprinted. Running down the halls, I finally arrived at the remote facilities and crashed through the stall door, not checking for its occupancy or if there was paper. I didn't care -- Mount Vesuvius was going to erupt! I yanked down my pants and collided to the throne to spray the hot lava. Now one good push and -- "Eooowwwwwww!!!!!" The liquid fire was not forced out as expected, but instead took the form of a giant bucking steer stretching my lasso to the breaking point. In one massive push, he burst upon the rodeo, fighting my sphincter. As I slid down its back, his nostrils puffed out a poison gas, trying to gag me. My asshole slammed shut like the door at Fort Knox -- beheading the wild steer. He splashed down, drowning into the watery pool. And as we both writhed in pain, I immediately stood up as I clenched my butt cheeks in agony. My brown eye was winking and twitching uncontrollably. I'd been gored! After a couple of minutes, after my brown eye's spasms eased, I decided to try to clean up any juice the huge slab of beef left behind. I found only a few sheets of toilet paper left in the stall, so I had to be miserly: one sheet at a time. The first, a clean wipe. Wait, another sheet. A clean wipe again. I've won! I'd won. Feeling secure, I turned to discard the spotless paper and to have a peek at the Angus from my anus. What this new cowboy saw before him had to be the largest longhorn on record. This cow was enormous! It had the girth of a soda can and was about fourteen inches long. A bubble floated from its neck to the water line as it exhaled its dying breath. "That came out of me?" I thought. Then I thought: "Yes. That came out of ME." As I stood above the conquered beast, I felt a sense of pride -- battered asshole and all. I pulled up my pants and said, "The world must know that I slain the bull." So I grabbed the last sheet of toilet paper, pulled out a pen from my backpack and wrote, "Four beef tacos with cheese and suicide sauce." Then I placed it on the toilet seat as I left. Now, some people may think that leaving the cattle behind was a form of turd terrorism. But I say no. One man's terrorist is another man's martyr. And I was an American martyr on that day. I waddled to my next class like a fresh-faced boy at a prison for bull riders. But I was proud. Proud that I was in college, proud that I defeated the bull, and proud to be an American. God bless the red, white, and poo. Post new comment
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