Hells fire, I get to saying, what you want is a PHD, fella with a nice moustache and a stethoscope and breath reekin' o' firemen's testes. He'll sort that fucker right out.
"Ach, I'm a bit embarrassed though. Mean, what if it's nothin'?"
What indeed. Last thing a man wants is to be shovin' his arse t'wards a medical professional less there's a damn good reason.
I think it over for a moment, the in's and out's of the situation all pingin' back an' forth cross the brain wax like a bucketload o' fresh-fucked ferrets.
Well, maybe I should take a look, I suggest.
He nods. He says about how that's the best way to assess the situation.
The Priest stops us as we're walking to the gents.
"The hell are you goin? Somewhere queer as a pickled dildo, I'll bet."
Be back in a minute, I say, gentleman here's got a nasty growth on the arse-bum, kinda thing should be investigated post haste.
The Priest wanders off t'wards the table, and himself beside me all quiverin' round the jowls.
"I'm hopin' it's some kinda boil, is all. Something can be solved with little more than a Brillo pad and a bucket o' boiling milk."
Me shrugging, and reaching for the door.
The bathroom's empty save for a vagrant fell asleep in a cubicle, burnt-out cigarette hanging from his mouth and a bottle o' gin on the tiles tween his feet. Little chance of him stirrin' this side o' November, and so the fella unbuttons the tweeds and bends over.
"Can you see?" he's asking.
Kinda fear could melt a Viking's teeth screeches 'long the folds o' my guts.
"Can you see?"
Mother Mary and the Blessed Balls o' Job, I see alright.
Right there on his arse, the very image of Ann Coulter.
Students of medicine will tell you this isn't altogether unheard of. Last July an x-ray revealed that the stomach cramps afflicting a middle-aged woman from the Shetland Isles was caused by a tiny Bill O'Reilly done formed 'longside her kidneys.
A poor bastard from Beverly Hills shot himself in the teeth when his right testicle took on the characteristics of Sean Hannity.
A civil servant from Kildare ended up on life support on account of a rogue Rush Limbaugh developed in his bladder.
Still, nothing prepares a fella for the sight of Anne Coulter growing out a stranger's arse.
Article comments
1 - Aaron Fleming
Hahahaha! What a brilliant tale! Best short story I've read since that thing about the man in the clock that was in the big hole or something.
2 - Steve C.
Oh my God dude that was so awesome. Well done, good sir.
3 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
heh, glad you liked it, fellas. hopefully i can raise consciousness about the issue, that far-right bum-growths the world over might be spied soon enough to be removed with little or no damage to the afflicted (i.e, Belfast, Florida, Birmingham etc)
4 - Mark Saleski
THAT...was brilliant. for a second there, i thought the story was going down the track of the film ¨How To Succeed In Advertising". gawd, now that woulda been ugly!
5 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Thank you Sir Saleski. Interestingly enough, a sunday newspaper was giving away a free copy of How To Get Ahead... on DVD last week. i forgot to buy the damn paper.
In my memory, it stands up proud as a sorely underrated flick, if no Withnail And I. maybe the reality is somewhat different.
6 - DJRadiohead
Duke, be assured I am going to read this fine piece of Mind Wax directly and have comments for you upon completion. I mostly felt compelled to comment on your shirt.
Done.
7 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
DJ, i look forward to your thoughts. As to the shirt... if you wanna borrow it, like, i'm more than happy to accomodate... heh.
8 - DJRadiohead
Duke, my apologies for not getting back to this sooner.
"Fuck-flaps." That gets added to the list without question.
You have outdone yourself again. Can't wait for V3 to arrive.