Anal Fear
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NSFW WARNING
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In the tradition of Stephen King, my asshole has come to life and is trying to kill me. Strap in, strap-on, and strap out, cause it's about to get 11/10 spooky.
When I awoke that fateful Thursday (Friday woulda been more alliterative but this is clearly nonfiction) My asshole hurt like the dickens. I get a lot of 'roids cause of the way my typewriter chair sits. Instead of trading up I just changed my Nom de Plume to Ernest Hemingrrhoid.
Anyway, normally I just walk it off but today I wanted to booty bump some of this Yakuza Heroin so I went on down to CVS to get some STUFF. Aisle 15. Gimme that southern comfort.
Wouldn't you know it, no preparation H.
But wait.
What's this?
Preparation X? Id never heard of it. In true hedonic fashion I disrobed right there in the Walgreens (continuity freaks bewaaaaare) and really went to town. Straight up applyin'.
An employee walking by noticed what I did. The horrified look in their eyes told me all I need to know. My asshole was to become haunted. Until I died. Or they're some kinda prude. Either way, I'm on the way home, and something isn't sitting right.
Stay tuned.
Credited to dhays202
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