Fleeting Adventures of Insufferable Romance and Excruciating Fantasy – #021 – The Ballad of the Three Asses

Once upon an ass, in a galaxy up my ass, there were three asses who were capable of nothing but living up to their description: that of being complete asses. The three asses had gone on a planned sabbatical to a remote ass somewhere in my ass. The voyage on their ass ship was a long one, interspersed with numerous periods of—you guessed it—exuberant ass-smacking. Little did the three asses know though, that the ass they were destined for had long been relocated to a significantly more assy neighborhood. What floated in its place was now a humongous set of cock and balls. Horrified at the apparent lack of ass, the three asses threw fits of panic and, ass fate would have it, ass-landed near the urethra of the giant cock head. Now say what you want about this land but some of my closest friends hail from giant cock and balls planets and they’re pretty cock and balls alright by me. But these three asses, being the asses that they were, did not appreciate all this cock and ball. “AAASSSSS!” farted one of the asses. “Ass ass ass ass,” farted another, reassuringly. The third ass did not fart at all, and held it all in. Days assed by in the blink of an eye. They would sleep in the folds of the scrotum, for solar winds on cock shaft and tip made their asses feel weird. There were no ass ships in the area and the three asses grew very hungry. Out of desperation, they decided to execute their last resort. And so they sharted, with enough propulsion to escape the gravitational pull of the giant cock and balls. Flecks of shit covered the giant cock and balls to the point that its cock and balls weren’t recognizable under all that shit. Thus, a new planet was born: A steaming heap of shit. In retaliation, the buried cock issued a colossal stream of piss, which erupted from the bowels of the steaming heap of shit, but a beautiful space piss-rainbow was all it amounted to. The three asses watched with utter fascination at this marvel of nature and slowly began to miss the giant cock and balls, as they hurtled toward farther asses, and cocks and pieces of shit and pussies and rivers of piss and vestiges of enemas and disease-filled excretions, ad infinitum. The moral of this story is: Don’t be an ass if you want ass but got cock and balls, just have a good shit and you’ll get where you need to go. Piss out.

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Blogsperiment #1

The ritual begins. I extend my hand and let it hover over a dusty chalice, one that had seen more use in centuries past yet remains a tool used in but the most sparse of frequencies. I draw blood and begin the pact. The droplet falls and its atoms scrape against interdimensional particles, calling upon the mightiest gods of the cosmos: Physics (classical and quantum), Chemistry, General Science, and even Recess Period, for a reaction of eldritch gravity.

The chalice manifests itself as a blank WordPress draft and my blood isn’t a metaphor for anything. I smear oozing red onto my work desktop, tracing lines from unwritten novels onto slimy monitors caked with the ashes of dead gods. (I have 2 of them. The monitors, not the dead gods.) The thought of being godless fills my blood with greed cells, little malicious spirits that hitchhike the entire length of your blood vessels, attacking leukocytes and other such small universes.

I am summoning twin helix gods, deuce-ex machina, from the depths of the CPU. My raging boner guides them home like a cosmic antenna. My coworker is frozen in fear. I reassure him by licking his lips. Mmm. Mmmm. Cherry lip balm. Mango soap scum. Durian eye drops. Ring ring ring, banana phone. J.D. Salinger’s testicles. I spit everything into the chalice. The ingredients are present. I click Publish and the ritual ends. It’s all over. The gods are upon us. I can stop typing now.

(DICK PICKLE)