The Enema

Enema

So, here we are, shifting the veil of static holding all of my beliefs together. Beliefs that are blatant lies created by my small attention span. So now let's get back to the present, where I'm increasing the size of the tear with lustful movements. I need to create a circumference just big enough for my slender figure to pass through. It probably would have been useful to lubricate the slit.. I'm all out of lube so I use my saliva. Just picture a sleazy clown porno staring me as a clown hopping into oblivion. The first feasible image i can recall after entering, is a swirl of warm colors creating a vortex.... Atomic Particles swam around me making the atmosphere heavy with a thick dry matter. Silence. Spat out onto an unearthly surface, eyes refocusing. A voice calls out to me in a monotonous whisper. Male? Female? Definitely Alien. I can only make out words resembling a poem I read last week.It goes a little something like this...(probably not, just venting inappropriate and unacceptable terms)

"Nigga, Nigga, Big Booty Hoe, Oh how I miss you, Oh how you make my ejaculation nice and slow, Give me a hand job, Give me a blow."

I pushed my body up off the soft fleshy ground until my body was fully erected. I'm ready to investigate further. So I follow what is now a polite scream to the source. The culprit is an old cherry wood finished turntable. It's so sleek and riddled with fancy nobs. But who left it here?...and where am I? "Betty's Colon" is carved into the wood. Is this revolting discovery a reality or am I in the middle of a hilarious joke? If so, the culprit deserves a standing ovation. Encore. Encore. Solo. Solo.