 |
||||
|
Of Flaming Pubes__ In a kingdom swarming with vandals of every sort there was a castle built like a thatch hut that overlooked a most putrid and henceforth unmentioned lake. In this most magnificence castle lived a king and queen. The king and queen, both of very little importance to this story, had a son named Horace. However, due to some unpleasant circumstances, he was nicknamed Flaming Pubes.__ His most unpleasant circumstace was not due to a rampant, fiery, raging case of jock itch. It was due, oddly enough, to the fact that the boy's pubic hair was in fact only gasoline. Also, the prince farted fire as only royal folk do. So then, the young man, full of flatulence, risked a most embarassing demise every time he tried to sneak even a little silent but deadly, most sneaky sneak of gas! __ The prince needed to get married and inherit his father's reign, as most fairy tale princes seem to want to do instead of running off to diddle male prostitutes in opium dens. So he needed to get married. However, his dangerous flatulence drove many women away, although his rugged good looks, favorably comparable to those of Fabio and Tony the Tiger, might tempt them near. Even the promise of riches could not keep the women around, for after all the castle was only a straw hut, and the supposedly unbelievable riches were really just small rocks and fish bones. __ Wisemen were called and informed of the dilemma. They held a week long council over sushi and naked women before a solution was stumbled upon (by Huey the wiseman who suckled among the pigs), and the prince was brought in. __ Here is what was done and then what happened after: *suspense* *suspence* __ They welded his asshole together with acetylene torches, and soon after he exploded in a fiery, stinky kaboom. __ The king and queen had no heir, and were a little disappointed, but it was ok because it turned out this whole thing was an unplanned, totally improvisational play put on in an old folks home in Nebraska when the geezers started trading medications for kicks. By Jenny | |||
|
|
Link Back Links Writer(s) |
 Danny's weekly video game column. Culture, history, gameplay, tech, and dick jokes. Funny, if you're a dorkmo. |
Puuba-Danny