Tag: pee

It’s time (Part IV)

“You gotta get me out of this,” Darrel pleaded to his agent. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you on the phone. If they find it, they won’t feed me!”

“Well I’m going through the agreement now and I’m sorry Darrel, it’s pretty ironclad,” Big Beef explained. “Besides, how bad can it be? It’s only a goddamn seminar!”

“I’m telling ya: Darrel, the other one, is trying to kill me here! Is there anything in the agreement about accidental death?”

Big Beef scanned the pages again. “Yes there is: in the event of your death, the publisher is entitled to the rights of your entire bibliography plus a $50 million payout from insurance.”

“Damn it Big Beef! Why did you let me sign that?”

“I thought you read through the whole thing!”

“I’m telling you Beef, when I get out of here I’m gonna shove my fist right up your….”, a big beefy guard interrupted the conversation by tapping Darrel on the shoulder. Darrel turned around and the guard snatched the phone and crushed it with his bare hand, case protector and all.

“Back to the auditorium,” the guard ordered.

“Can I at least piss first?” Darrel asked.

“No.”

Darrel slowly walked back into the auditorium trying to hold his piss in and took his seat. On stage we’re five volunteers sitting in a row, one of whom being Janet Young. They all had a look of death on their faces.

Moments later, Dr. Paul Westinghouse hopped back on stage with all smiles. His face was bandaged up from the ass pounding he took earlier. “Alright,” he said to the audience, “the first lesson in teamwork is sacrifice. I just had all of you drink one gallon of water. So shortly everyone will be pissing their pants. Fortunately we can avoid this embarrassing situation if one of our five volunteers makes a valuable sacrifice.”

Everyone looked at each other while the five volunteers sat stone faced. “So allow me to explain the situation,” Paul continued. “All five of our volunteers have ate a fully stuffed burrito each. But here’s the catch: one of the burritos was laced with an insane amount of laxatives. And those burritos were PACKED with jalapeños, eggs, beans, cheese, you name it. So that shit gon STANK.” Paul then took a second to readjust himself for dramatic effect. “Fortunately for that individual,” he continued, “if one of the other four members volunteers to shit their pants in front of everyone, then everybody in attendance will be dismissed to use the bathroom and/or change their underwear. If the random person who ate the laced burrito shits their pants first, then that person will be forced to sit in their shitty underwear all night. Moreover, if anyone in the audience pisses their pants before any of the five volunteers shit, this process will start all over again. Any questions?”

Silence befell the room.

“Alright! So someone better start shitting or else this entire auditorium will be flooded with piss!”

pennies for the dead 💀 (part v)

“I don’t know Sheila,” I said, “you’ve faked demonic possessions before.”

“Try me, asswipe!” she replied. Then I pumped a few bullets into her chest.

Nothin

“Alright, so I guess you’re Jezebel,” I said. “Where’s Pete?”

“His soul resides in HELL for all eternity!!!!”

“Good, he’s a Boston sports fan,” I said, “he needs to know how that feels.”

“You will join him soon enough!”

“Sorry sister, I already live in Ohio.”

I pulled the trigger again but I already emptied the revolver. I threw the gun at her and started running down the hallway while screaming for my life.

I hid in the closet under the staircase. Of course, it didn’t take long for her to find me. Using her demonic powers, Jezebel began to eat my soul. I started praying. “God, I regret everything,” I said.

Then God responded. Thunderbolts began raining down on Jezebel from some unseen force and she retreated into the shadows. I was still alive.

I crawled out from the closet. In front of me stood a wizard-like figure dressed in white robes and holding a staff.

“Thank you Jesus,” I said.

“I’m not Jesus,” the figure replied. “I’m Joe Morris.”

I stood up. “Joe Morris? Shouldn’t you be 120 years old?”

“119 to be precise.”

Then Pete ran down the hallway. “Ty! I’m still alive!” he said.

“I thought you went to hell,” I replied.

“I did. It ain’t such a bad place. I got to meet Dave Cowens.”

“He’s still alive dumbass.”

“Are you sure? By the way, did you piss your pants?”

“I did. It’s a side effect of my elavil prescription. Where did Jezebel go?”

“She went back to hell to lick her wounds,” Joe Morris said. “We must go to the cellar, return to hell, and make sure she never returns.”

“Fuck that,” I said. “This ain’t my problem. I’ll just collect the money from Dorthy and be on my merry way.”

Right then, a possessed Dorthy flew down from the ceiling and attacked me. While I fought her off, Joe Morris released more thunderbolts from his staff. Finally, she flew off of me and began writhing on the ground before whatever cursed spirit that possessed her left her body. Dorthy was dead.

“Mother!” Pete screamed.

“She hasn’t been your mother for a long time,” Joe said.

I took a moment to gather myself.

“Alright,” I said, “I need to change my pants before we go to the cellar,”

TO BE CONTINUED…