Head of Prostate

Wettergate

Richard Milhouse Nixon, former president of the United States of America stands in front of the illustrious Watergate Complex. Wearing a heavily stained wife beater and sweatpants dotted with holes, Dick gulps audibly as he decides to enter this familiar joint. In his moist hand, he clutches a note written by an old friend inviting him to the bowels of the complex. Sweat drips from every single pore as Dick moves forward. He reaches a metal door and tries the handle. Locked, of course. Unphased, he picks the lock and kicks the heavy door open. Beyond the opening is stairs heading down into a dimly lit basement. Carefully, Dick proceeds to walk to the meeting point.

The basement is pitch black. Before Dick can acclimate to the darkness, his head bumps into a string. Fumbling for a second, he eventually manages to grab and yank it. A blinding light stuns Dick as the lights are activated. In the center of the room rests a toilet and atop the throne is Lyndon Baines Johnson, former president of the United States of America. He stares giddily at Dick and asks,

"You know what a Blumpkin is, Richard? Well, do you?"

"No, wha-"

Before Dick can finish his sentence, LBJ let's loose a torrent of diarrhea filling the room with a harsh squeal of noise and a scent unrivaled.

"Join me, Richard," LBJ demands. Dick hobbles over, fighting back repulsion. LBJ is completely naked and covered in feces and urine. Another spurt of grand magnitude erups from his bunghole.

LBJ grabs his stiff tower with one hand and Dick's shoulder with the other.

"Get to work, Richie-boy," he moans. Dick is now at the same level as LBJ's portobello-esque hog. It is almost completely hidden by a debris-infested hedge of pubic hair. Dick thinks to himself. This isn't the first jungle warfare he's dealt with. He grabs a mouthful of the moist bundle of sticky fur and rips it out with his teeth. The sound of velcro ripping and another log splashing in the toilet bowl reverberate in the dingy concrete prison. After repeating this 3 more times, LBJ's groin is nearly clear of foliage. Blood and saliva coat this portion of greasy skin. Dick then begins to work his gums on LBJ's slick tower. The flavour of shit and funnel cakes assault his taste buds. The tower repeatedly slips out of Dick's maw so he plants his teeth on the shaft for stability. His incisors scrape LBJ's slimy cock as his mouth glides forward and backward. A flood of semen collides with the back of Dick's throat. His well-trained uvula thinks nothing of it. The texture of the substance is gritty like wet sand and it tastes like smoked salmon. Dick gets up and admires his work. LBJ's tower lies defeated. Bloody wounds cover his now flaccid pecker. After a soft grunt, LBJ gives out an order.

"Daddy need his wipeys, Rich." The oafish mutant spins around the toilet, exposing his soggy bunghole. He wraps his chains around his neck and lies over the tank of the toilet. Dick presses his soft tongue gently on the surface of LBJ's bunghole and swirls around it, collecting the soupy mixture he blasted out prior. A gurgle comes out of LBJ as this occurs. The chains constrict his neck as he asphyxiates himself. He flatulates once, then again. The bunghole pulsates as a volley of watery spurts splashes on Dick's face. The floodgates open and a viscous brown stew soaks Dick and his wife beater. Dick wipes his face with his forearm and finishes up. LBJ is now shiny from a coat of Dick's saliva. LBJ toots gently and a twenty dollar bill emerges halfway out of his bunghole. As Dick grabs it, LBJ's scarlet ring tenses up. The two wrestle for the soiled paper and Dick's arm is sucked in to the elbow. After an intense struggle, Dick pulls out both the bill and his arm and leaves with a grimace.

This isn't the weirdest job he's done, but he won't forget it. Neither will LBJ.