Stranded at the Inconvenient Cafe'
Branded a fool
Will my Master's minions think it's cool?
Masta can't you see that my ass is in misery
Made a start now we're apart
There's nothing left for my ass
Your supanatural powas has flown all alone
I sit and wonda why-y-y-y-y oh why?
You left my ass
oh Masta
Oh Masta
Someday when the WNWA is done
Somehow, someway our beloved Hillary's Presidency will be won
In hell foyeva and eva our asses will be
Oh please say you'll stay
Oh MastaMasta my savya
You hurt my ass real bad
You know it's true
But Masta
You gotta believe my ass
When I say I woyship you
Your supanatural powas has flown all alone
I sit and wonder why-y-y-y-y oh why?
You left my ass
Oh Masta
MastaMasta-a
Why-y-y-y-y
Oh Masta
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
An Inconvenient Humiliation
A couple of days ago, my Lord and da rest of his minions decided to eat at da Inconvenient Cafe foy dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means dat macaroni and tofu was on da hot bar, indeed da only night of da week dat it is soived. Unfoitunately, the tofu-a-roni looked a bit moldy, but my Masta said it was meerly seasoning.
Wednesday night is also kid's night at da Inconvenient Cafe, complete with Poivo da Clown wandering from table to table entertaining doz little bastids. It may seem dat da events about to be told have little connection to dose two soycumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.
We went troo da line and placed our oydas for da all-you-can-eat hot bar den sat down as fah away from da front of da restaurant as possible in order to keep da density of da fucking kids down a bit. Then I started my move to da hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and tofu were consumed dat evening, I tell you in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian soy-ka-bobs were shoved into my hang-gut. It was salted. Perhaps a bit too much, however. I had not really felt well all day, with quite a bit of gas--I was farting all day and staining my drawas a rich, dark brown color. By the time I had eaten foy overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my intestines that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At foist, I tought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without too much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I had a major case of the liquid squiots. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines fah faster dan da food full of fiber, but I digress... I struggled up from da table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw mold on da two sinks immediately inside the dowah as well as on da two yoyinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was for da cripples.
Now, normally I shit in da cripple-stall since I like to stretch out my fat rolls a bit when I push out all that liquified stool, but in this case, the dowa lock was broken and the only thing I hate woyse than da Toid telling me to wash my hands afta I take a shit is having Kelly Millis walk in on me while I'm jacking-off. I decided to squeeze in da normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the dowa would not lock because that bit of precious time lost in trying to fit my fat ass in the small stall proved to be a bit too long under the soycumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical propoyshuns. I began the process I like to call the "The Man Boyth." For those women--especially Amelia--who may be reading dis, let me take a moment to explain "The Man Boyth." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty all the stool, a sequence of physiological events occoy dat can not be stopped under any soycumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching da shitter (which by the way was covered in piss and bits of popcorn koynals), beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward da trone, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and dropping dere trousers while beginning to squat (or fall) at da same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when poyfoymed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of toilet soup at the exact same second that one's ass is properly laid out on da toilet seat. Often times, a man may give boyth to a nine pound brown, bouncing boy. I was about half-way into "The Boyth" when I looked down at da floy and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards--probably one of Shitifa's juvenile delinquents--at the Cafe; I did not notice it at foyst, because I was barely able to squeeze my sexy frame into da stall. Afta I took a wiff of that tofu--chitlin mixcha--combined with the gas in my stomach--four plates of macaroni and tofu started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct dem as best I can. In that moment of impending puking, my ass was divoyted from the goings on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the shitter, joking pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming out my mouth and nose. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slathering out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing, since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus divoyted. At that very split second, my asshole exploded. An enoymous pile of excrement the consistency of thick, oily mud came spraying out my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such foice it ricocheted off the back of the toilet and covered the entire stall. Then I sat down and recalled that when that event occurred, I was already half way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no retoyn. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. So, now I was covered in shit--I'm such a fool!!!
Now, back to the vomit. While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and tofu I had just consumed. OK, so what does my ass instinctively do when vomiting? I bend my ass ova. I was still sitting in the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles? In one mighty push, some ten pounds of macaroni and tofu, two or three liters of Coke, and five Big, Fat Yeast Rolls, with some of Retro's cummy bears were deposited in my pants on the inside with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of toyds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough foyce to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquified stool. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fucking toilet paper. The bastids. What could I do? I had no choice I had to walk out in total and complete humiliation foy the whole library to see. They all laughed at my ass--including my Masta and his beloved Hillary who was there too! I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guys who wandered by. They actually asked if I was homeless. At that moment, I think it dawned on me exactly the gravity of the situation. The national media was there, I and looked like a fool to the whole country. I looked like a fat sow covered in mud--except it was SHIT--and puke was draining down my feet!! No way, this could be mowa humiliating!! BUT IT WAS!!! I WAS ON LIVE FUCKING TV!!!!
While everyone was laughing at me, the Toid grabbed the hose located unda da sink with a phallic end, and began spraying my ass!! I was so humiliated I tried to run away but slipped on my own vomit and stool, I then fell hitting my head on a table, and my ass was out cold. So now as I write this, I am foyced to watch coverage of my humiliation be replayed on all the cable news netwoyks by my Lord, the Liberal Librarian. Now you think the humiliation, is somewhat over--sorry pal, it ain't. I am now foyced to appear in a commericial for the Inconvenient Cafe where I am foiced to strongly recommend eating that crap. I even have to say they have the nicest management staff of any restaurant because the manager (da Toid) hosed the vile filfth off my ass.
Wednesday night is also kid's night at da Inconvenient Cafe, complete with Poivo da Clown wandering from table to table entertaining doz little bastids. It may seem dat da events about to be told have little connection to dose two soycumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.
We went troo da line and placed our oydas for da all-you-can-eat hot bar den sat down as fah away from da front of da restaurant as possible in order to keep da density of da fucking kids down a bit. Then I started my move to da hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and tofu were consumed dat evening, I tell you in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian soy-ka-bobs were shoved into my hang-gut. It was salted. Perhaps a bit too much, however. I had not really felt well all day, with quite a bit of gas--I was farting all day and staining my drawas a rich, dark brown color. By the time I had eaten foy overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my intestines that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At foist, I tought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without too much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I had a major case of the liquid squiots. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines fah faster dan da food full of fiber, but I digress... I struggled up from da table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw mold on da two sinks immediately inside the dowah as well as on da two yoyinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was for da cripples.
Now, normally I shit in da cripple-stall since I like to stretch out my fat rolls a bit when I push out all that liquified stool, but in this case, the dowa lock was broken and the only thing I hate woyse than da Toid telling me to wash my hands afta I take a shit is having Kelly Millis walk in on me while I'm jacking-off. I decided to squeeze in da normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the dowa would not lock because that bit of precious time lost in trying to fit my fat ass in the small stall proved to be a bit too long under the soycumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical propoyshuns. I began the process I like to call the "The Man Boyth." For those women--especially Amelia--who may be reading dis, let me take a moment to explain "The Man Boyth." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty all the stool, a sequence of physiological events occoy dat can not be stopped under any soycumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching da shitter (which by the way was covered in piss and bits of popcorn koynals), beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward da trone, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and dropping dere trousers while beginning to squat (or fall) at da same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when poyfoymed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of toilet soup at the exact same second that one's ass is properly laid out on da toilet seat. Often times, a man may give boyth to a nine pound brown, bouncing boy. I was about half-way into "The Boyth" when I looked down at da floy and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards--probably one of Shitifa's juvenile delinquents--at the Cafe; I did not notice it at foyst, because I was barely able to squeeze my sexy frame into da stall. Afta I took a wiff of that tofu--chitlin mixcha--combined with the gas in my stomach--four plates of macaroni and tofu started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct dem as best I can. In that moment of impending puking, my ass was divoyted from the goings on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the shitter, joking pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming out my mouth and nose. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slathering out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing, since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus divoyted. At that very split second, my asshole exploded. An enoymous pile of excrement the consistency of thick, oily mud came spraying out my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such foice it ricocheted off the back of the toilet and covered the entire stall. Then I sat down and recalled that when that event occurred, I was already half way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no retoyn. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. So, now I was covered in shit--I'm such a fool!!!
Now, back to the vomit. While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and tofu I had just consumed. OK, so what does my ass instinctively do when vomiting? I bend my ass ova. I was still sitting in the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles? In one mighty push, some ten pounds of macaroni and tofu, two or three liters of Coke, and five Big, Fat Yeast Rolls, with some of Retro's cummy bears were deposited in my pants on the inside with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of toyds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough foyce to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquified stool. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fucking toilet paper. The bastids. What could I do? I had no choice I had to walk out in total and complete humiliation foy the whole library to see. They all laughed at my ass--including my Masta and his beloved Hillary who was there too! I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guys who wandered by. They actually asked if I was homeless. At that moment, I think it dawned on me exactly the gravity of the situation. The national media was there, I and looked like a fool to the whole country. I looked like a fat sow covered in mud--except it was SHIT--and puke was draining down my feet!! No way, this could be mowa humiliating!! BUT IT WAS!!! I WAS ON LIVE FUCKING TV!!!!
While everyone was laughing at me, the Toid grabbed the hose located unda da sink with a phallic end, and began spraying my ass!! I was so humiliated I tried to run away but slipped on my own vomit and stool, I then fell hitting my head on a table, and my ass was out cold. So now as I write this, I am foyced to watch coverage of my humiliation be replayed on all the cable news netwoyks by my Lord, the Liberal Librarian. Now you think the humiliation, is somewhat over--sorry pal, it ain't. I am now foyced to appear in a commericial for the Inconvenient Cafe where I am foiced to strongly recommend eating that crap. I even have to say they have the nicest management staff of any restaurant because the manager (da Toid) hosed the vile filfth off my ass.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
So close, yet more humiliation...Monkey Style
I tawt dis last tv show was going to change my life for da bettah. I tawt da fans would love my ass and chant my name...and da lovely Amelia would want me to moida her tits. Howeva, to my dismay I was da subject foy laughta--not only inside, but outside da arena too!! In fact, I am still teased by da Braddock locals. Everybody laughs at my ass because I was defeated by dat maniacal monkey, Mud. Even at da Braddock Public Library, this 13 year old blonde headed boy named Bryin grabbed my nipples, twisted them, and then snapped his fingas!! Dat BASTID!! What did I eva do to his ass?? Dat humiliation is only da tip of the iceboig. Don't dey understand, I almost won. After all, Mud is a masta in martial aoits. Don't dey know that I'm a lovah, not a fightah?
My Masta and Lord, da Liberal Librarian, who just came back home told me dat I should take da abuse and tell dose bums to vote foy my Masta's beloved, Hillary. Am I to embrace the public for trowin dog shit at me because I've lost just a few mowa matches dan I won?? Are dey going to laugh and humiliate my ass because I'm a little overweight? Will they keep trying to rape my ass justifying it (quoting them!) by saying "I'm FAT!"? From age 8, people can tell between right and wrong. No matter what dere frustrations at the oh so evil world, as long as they take it out on innocent people, dey are da scum and dey don't desoiv being in my fan club--if I had one.
I have been a victim of lots of shit. Just because I'm fat, I have been beaten, set on fire and even found my underwear drawer flooded with piss and stool. And dis humiliation was just by my Ma!! In addition to all dat shit, I have been insulted, laughed at, mocked. My black friends ganged up against my ass just to crush me, and even those geyahs who have promised my Ma to look after my ass--namely Revoind Coitis has joined in bullying me. At age foyty, I found myself completely alone and mistrusting people. And I still am. I still catch myself questioning and being suspicious of every nice gesture: "What's Kelly's ass scheming?"--refoying to dat time Kelly Millis asked if I wanted a full body massage.
Here in Braddock, I have no friends or family to toin to wit my pain. I have no chest to cry on...just my enoymus man tits. I have always been left alone wit my trouble. I KNOW what it's like to be discriminated, mistreated and humiliated. I KNOW what it's like to feel you're on your own, surrounded by enemies. And even when I did direct my anger at da true enemy--Republicans, I have never met "understanding" from fucking anyone. Whetha I defended my ass or whetha I let dem beat my ass into da ground, I have always found my ass alone. My country, with my Ma, my Masta and my roommate--da Toid. Thanks to my intimidating good looks, I have never been in any relationship, da closest being cases of rape by Shitifa, and my botched rape of Amelia. At least my Masta understands... he told my ass when Hillary is elected emperor, everything will woik out. I just hope when my masta leaves to campaign foy her ass in Indiana, that he doesn't leave me alone with Mud. My nipples shoy are sore. Mud's brand of humiliation is especially humiliating...
My Masta and Lord, da Liberal Librarian, who just came back home told me dat I should take da abuse and tell dose bums to vote foy my Masta's beloved, Hillary. Am I to embrace the public for trowin dog shit at me because I've lost just a few mowa matches dan I won?? Are dey going to laugh and humiliate my ass because I'm a little overweight? Will they keep trying to rape my ass justifying it (quoting them!) by saying "I'm FAT!"? From age 8, people can tell between right and wrong. No matter what dere frustrations at the oh so evil world, as long as they take it out on innocent people, dey are da scum and dey don't desoiv being in my fan club--if I had one.
I have been a victim of lots of shit. Just because I'm fat, I have been beaten, set on fire and even found my underwear drawer flooded with piss and stool. And dis humiliation was just by my Ma!! In addition to all dat shit, I have been insulted, laughed at, mocked. My black friends ganged up against my ass just to crush me, and even those geyahs who have promised my Ma to look after my ass--namely Revoind Coitis has joined in bullying me. At age foyty, I found myself completely alone and mistrusting people. And I still am. I still catch myself questioning and being suspicious of every nice gesture: "What's Kelly's ass scheming?"--refoying to dat time Kelly Millis asked if I wanted a full body massage.
Here in Braddock, I have no friends or family to toin to wit my pain. I have no chest to cry on...just my enoymus man tits. I have always been left alone wit my trouble. I KNOW what it's like to be discriminated, mistreated and humiliated. I KNOW what it's like to feel you're on your own, surrounded by enemies. And even when I did direct my anger at da true enemy--Republicans, I have never met "understanding" from fucking anyone. Whetha I defended my ass or whetha I let dem beat my ass into da ground, I have always found my ass alone. My country, with my Ma, my Masta and my roommate--da Toid. Thanks to my intimidating good looks, I have never been in any relationship, da closest being cases of rape by Shitifa, and my botched rape of Amelia. At least my Masta understands... he told my ass when Hillary is elected emperor, everything will woik out. I just hope when my masta leaves to campaign foy her ass in Indiana, that he doesn't leave me alone with Mud. My nipples shoy are sore. Mud's brand of humiliation is especially humiliating...
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