A Day in the Life of Ian

Chapter 1: "Thirst Encounters of the Turd Kind"

In the early hours of the morning, Ian awakes laying in his bed. He coughs like a seventy-three year old smoker going on their eighth pack of the day. He then starts gagging on his own phlegm, which he groggily slumps over to drool into his designated "spit cup". His mouth slime oozing from his luscious dick sucking lips with a slight green hue. Once he was done and ready to start the day, He got out of his bed that was half covered in clothes. After getting dressed in what seemed to be a churches Sunday school attire, he waddled to the bathroom and began his morning ritual of brushing his teeth and hair. This daily event of his last him around 45 minuets of bathroom time, which of course means other people must wait for his sacred alone time to conclude. But one lively character in the house couldn't wait much longer.

While Ian was in the bathroom, He heard the sound of frantic and heavy footsteps clammier towards the bathroom door. Once the sounds of running stopped, Ian heard heavy breathing from just outside. The muffled breaths are suddenly cut off by thunderous banging on the door. "Ian, get out. I need to take a fat shit!" Pleaded the voice beyond the door. Ian knew this voice well, it was Kale. "Of course Kale needs the bathroom, he's always in here" Ian had thought. He spoke to Kale, "You always take the bathroom, I'm having my alone time today. Go starfish or something!". Kale's turtle head was poking out of its shell so he had no time for games. "Fuck off Ian, I'm coming in!". Just then, Kale busted open the door. He pushed his way passed Ian, and Mario ground pounded the porcelain throne. Once on the toilet, Kale let out a poopy fart that would rival the explosion of Chernobyl's nuclear meltdown. The shart radiated a stink so warm and foul that Ian couldn't help feeling as if the warmth made him think of home given his Mexican blood. 

Kale's atomic shit wasn't the only warm and stinky thing being summoned in that bathroom. You see, since Kale was dropping a fat duce he had to flop his pencil cock out to shit on the toilet. While Ian was in the room with him, Ian couldn't help but look at the floppin dongger. What started as a simple glance turned into a stare. Ian seeing eyes to eye with the pale peenie weenie. He watched as Kale's wiener bobbed up and down with every push of the shit. Every time Kale pinched off one of his brown play-doh snakes, his penus-weenus and marble bag flew up like a majestic condor taking part in an floppy and moist mating dance.

Kale had notice this, and gave Ian a smirk of acknowledgment. "What is it Ian? You like what you see? Or perhaps it's the smell that has you like that?" Kale said while looking down at Ian's no no place. Sure enough, Ian had realized his schvonce was rising at the sight of Kale's tube steak. Embarrassed by this, Ian turned away to Texas tuck to hide his anti-gina. Once his banana sausage was hidden, he pushed up his glasses in a way where the light reflecting off the lenses created a gleam of light. "I have to go." Ian said. "I'll leave you to your brown tsunami destruction of the john." He had told Kale as he left.

Once out of the bathroom, Ian heard Kale grunting while pushing cement out of his organic cement mixer. He had begun to blindly and clumsily run towards the downstairs door. But as he turned the corner, he had hit his gonzo looking shnose on something. It was the fridge door. And behind it was a man who now had general mills hamburger helper cheeseburger macaroni made with real cheese coating him. needless to say, he was angry.