Thanks alot for the greasy ass cheesteak. I really needed a pck me up at four thirty the other day after drinking to the point I could barely walk. I really did. What I didn't need was the ensuing ferocious dump that shot out my ass the following morning. Now I'm sure you're asking yourself, "how bad could it be?" Okay, let me tell you. It all started innocently enough, I sat down on a cold ring of porceline, picked up a mag, and got to work. What followed will haunt me every time I enter the facilities. A great stream of molten feces shot forth from my ass, carrying with it a pungent wave of putrid fart gasses. Liquid quickly gave way to foam. Imagine shaking a beer and popping the top. Now make that beer human excrement as green as the day is long, then invert the can and replace it with my white ass. Through even the many foldings of two ply paper the liquid soaked. Many flushes were flushed to suck down the wretched beast. Yet I and the throne beneath remained vigilant, steadfast, unyielding. There was no going back. My ass now burning with the fire of a thousand suns, I pushed, squinting, face red with strain, forcibly casting from my entrails the demons within. With one great "hhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnn, hhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmuughhhgh, aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" I at last expelled that which had poisoned me, your cheesteak sandwitch. Still wiping, both my anus and the sweat from my brow, I slowly began to reclaim my flesh from under the curtain of poop that had so thickly draped it. My hindquarters no longer drowning in a sea of brown, I jumped into the shower for a more thourough cleansing of my cock balls and ass. Exhausted, I collapsed into the loving arms of my bed where I stayed for the rest of the day. Never again will I eat your sandwitch Mr Waffle House Cook. Never again will I suffer such post-meal indignities at your hands. Never again. You asshole.
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