• I REMEMBER THIS...

    From a425couple@21:1/5 to Colonel Edmund J. Burke on Sun Jun 21 08:47:08 2020
    XPost: alt.baldspot, alt.war.vietnam

    On 6/19/2020 7:58 AM, Colonel Edmund J. Burke wrote:
    It happened some fifteen years ago. We, a friend and I, found ourselves
    at a local Chink eatery in late afternoon, where I ordered the Kung Pao
    beef plate, a spicy stir-fry dish made with chicken, peanuts,
    vegetables, and super-hawt chili peppers.   I perhaps committed an injudicious snafu when I advised our waitress to make it “hotter 'n a freshly fucked fox in a forest fire,” though not necessary in such an accursed way.  To which she politely replied, "Kung Pao?  It's already hot."

    "You can't make it hot enough for me," I admonished, and told her to
    pass along my advice to the kitchen.

    An hour or so later found us camped out at a nearby tavern. That's when
    it hit me. Thinking it only gas, I let one rip. . . .  Oh, gawd
    almighty, it was a fusking wet one.*  That boggy sensation was
    unmistakable; I had really fouled myself. I made a bee line for the
    shitter, in the rear of the bar just behind the pool table. I just
    couldn't stop going and going and going!  Several times an incautious
    soul tried entry, then hastily evacuated.  The atmosphere hung like a
    thick, feculent pall throughout.

    Outside the shithouse a froup of patrons had assembled, apparently much entertained by me, while at the same time horrified by the terrific odor within, which escaped whenever the door was carelessly opened by some unsuspecting patron.

    My underpants were, obviously, a done deal, so I slipped 'em off between shits and left 'em hanging, as a joke, on the toilet handle.  Someone, probably the owner, would deal with ‘em later.  I laughed to myself a little considering the folks who would be morally shocked and
    terrifically horrified at the sight.  Then I got the fuck outa there. Needless to say, I have not had the courage to return to that particular tavern since.

    The End        ;-)

    *A wet fart is not in fact wet.  Rather, the condition is caused by the sphincter muscle rippling at something approximating 4x the speed of
    sound.  This catastrophic disruption to one’s anus causes what is known
    in the medical profession as “nerve confusion.”  Basically nerves around the anus are completely shocked by said calamitous flatulence, and they immediately begin searching for the appropriate response to send to the brain.  Pain receptors, which have been temporarily traumatized, are certainly of no use; so the nerves’ reaction is either a pleasant anesthetic tingling, or, as in 90% of these instances, a definite
    sensation or feeling of wetness.

    Any questions?


    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)
  • From Colonel Edmund J. Burke@21:1/5 to All on Mon Jun 22 13:00:29 2020
    XPost: alt.baldspot, alt.war.vietnam

    On 6/21/2020 8:47 AM, a425couple wrote:
    On 6/19/2020 7:58 AM, Colonel Edmund J. Burke wrote:
    It happened some fifteen years ago. We, a friend and I, found
    ourselves at a local Chink eatery in late afternoon, where I ordered
    the Kung Pao beef plate, a spicy stir-fry dish made with chicken,
    peanuts, vegetables, and super-hawt chili peppers.   I perhaps
    committed an injudicious snafu when I advised our waitress to make it
    “hotter 'n a freshly fucked fox in a forest fire,” though not
    necessary in such an accursed way.  To which she politely replied,
    "Kung Pao?  It's already hot."

    "You can't make it hot enough for me," I admonished, and told her to
    pass along my advice to the kitchen.

    An hour or so later found us camped out at a nearby tavern. That's
    when it hit me. Thinking it only gas, I let one rip. . . .  Oh, gawd
    almighty, it was a fusking wet one.*  That boggy sensation was
    unmistakable; I had really fouled myself. I made a bee line for the
    shitter, in the rear of the bar just behind the pool table. I just
    couldn't stop going and going and going!  Several times an incautious
    soul tried entry, then hastily evacuated.  The atmosphere hung like a
    thick, feculent pall throughout.

    Outside the shithouse a froup of patrons had assembled, apparently
    much entertained by me, while at the same time horrified by the
    terrific odor within, which escaped whenever the door was carelessly
    opened by some unsuspecting patron.

    My underpants were, obviously, a done deal, so I slipped 'em off
    between shits and left 'em hanging, as a joke, on the toilet handle.
    Someone, probably the owner, would deal with ‘em later.  I laughed to
    myself a little considering the folks who would be morally shocked and
    terrifically horrified at the sight.  Then I got the fuck outa there.
    Needless to say, I have not had the courage to return to that
    particular tavern since.

    The End        ;-)

    *A wet fart is not in fact wet.  Rather, the condition is caused by
    the sphincter muscle rippling at something approximating 4x the speed
    of sound.  This catastrophic disruption to one’s anus causes what is
    known in the medical profession as “nerve confusion.”  Basically
    nerves around the anus are completely shocked by said calamitous
    flatulence, and they immediately begin searching for the appropriate
    response to send to the brain.  Pain receptors, which have been
    temporarily traumatized, are certainly of no use; so the nerves’
    reaction is either a pleasant anesthetic tingling, or, as in 90% of
    these instances, a definite sensation or feeling of wetness.

    Any questions?



    Did you have a question, son?

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)