Tag Archives: humor

Conspiracy Corner with Tin Hat Ted – My First Column

By: Tin Hat Ted, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Conspiracy Theorist

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Good day, 3.5 readers.  Tin Hat Ted here.  I’d like to thank Bookshelf Q. Battler for allowing me the opportunity to share my conspiracy theories on his blog.  While I am convinced that BQB is a high ranking official in the lizard people army and his blog is but a mere rouse designed to brainwash 3.5 humans into the ways of the lizard, I’ve got to get my start somewhere and it’s not like any other blogs are answering my many, many, many calls.

First, a little bit about me.  I was but a humble waiter when I first began hearing the alien voices in my head.  You don’t hear them because the average human mind can’t comprehend them, but rest assured those voices are there, telling you to do things you don’t really want to do all day long.  That’s why you eat fast food, buy expensive products you don’t need and watch TV shows that are utter garbage.  The aliens are trying to make you fat, stupid and poor so you’ll offer little resistance when their drop ships arrive full of shock troops.

That’s why I wear this very fashionable tin hat.  It keeps the aliens from implanting subliminal messages into my mind.  It also keeps them from reading my mind.  There are many nuggets of information I don’t want the aliens to have, let me tell you.

In fact, I will tell you.  Here are my latest conspiracy theories.  Just keep this all on the down low because if the various forces behind the scenes ever found out that any of this went public, they’d blow a gasket.  Good thing this blog is only read by 3.5 readers.

Conspiracy Theory #1 – J. Edgar Hoover is Alive and is a Woman

Former FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover is alive and well, having had his brain implanted into the brain of a female test subject, thus killing two proverbial birds with one stone, namely, achieving the director’s ambition to live into perpetuity and to become a woman.  At this time, I have no reason to believe that Hoover is working for or against the government, at least in any official capacity.  My sources, comprised mostly of meth addicted truckers I hang out with at the local Waffle House, indicate that Hoover just wants his Hoover time.  He wants to be left alone to enjoy his long dreamed of vagina, but will strike with the copious files full of dirty secrets he maintains if he is pressed.

Conspiracy Theory #2 – Newspapers are Written By Highly Intelligent Beavers

Print is dead.  The only reason this industry is still alive is the hardworking North American beaver.  By day, these buck toothed rodents build damns.  By night, they write newspaper articles under assumed names.  Don’t believe everything you read, by the way.  The beavers bring their own pro-beaver bias to the news.

Conspiracy Theory #3 – Walt Disney Continues to Run Disney

While Walt Disney was cryogenically frozen, word has it that he is sentient enough to groan loud enough that it can be heard by the scientists monitoring his cryo-chamber.  Walt gets final approval on every film Disney makes.  Studio execs play the latest films inside a little TV in Walt’s chamber, and then he groans once for yes and twice for no.  Witnesses report that Walt’s groans regarding the gay character in Beauty in the Beast were inconclusive, so they just rolled the dice.

Conspiracy Theory #4 – All Important People are Lizards

Most multi-millionaires, celebrities, politicians, business tycoons and other people of import are not people but rather, are lizard people wearing regular people masks.  If you’re ever feeling down about not making it as far as you hoped you would in life, don’t blame yourself.  It’s not your fault you aren’t a lizard.  The lizard people have their own network and if you aren’t in it, then the doors to success will never be unlocked for you.

I’m just confused as to why Bookshelf Q. Battler is a lizard person.  After all, he’s not very successful.

Conspiracy Theory #5 – Candy Rots Your Teeth so Dentists Can Put Trackers in Your Fillings

There’s been a form of sugar that is actually good for your teeth but the government has kept it off supermarket shelves for decades.  That’s because they want you to get cavities so they can put fillings in your teeth.  Sure, those fillings plug up your tooth holes, but they also contain tiny homing beacons that can tell the government where you are and what you are putting your mouth on at all times.

A) Be careful what you put your mouth on if you don’t want to be blackmailed by the government and B) be like me and do all your own dental work.  Oh, Bookshelf Q. Battler’s lawyer tells me to tell you to not do your own dental work but if you ask me, she’s probably part of the grand conspiracy.

CONCLUSION

Those are all the conspiracy theories I’m willing to share at this time, 3.5 readers.  If you have any you’d like to share, leave them in the comments.  Also, don’t forget to fashion a hat for yourself out of tin foil and wear it at all times.

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Eight Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays

Destined to become an Academy Award winning picture:

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Top Ten Warning Signs Your Butt Might Have Been Probed By Aliens

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Someone’s going to be walking funny tomorrow.

Ahh, aliens.  Those intergalactic science perverts really do a number on the human heiney don’t they?

What exactly are little green men hoping to discover by shoving their high tech, state of the art devices up human butts?  Your guess is as good as mine.  At any rate, it’s not like these space weirdoes will leave you a calling card, so if you want to know whether or not your cheeks have been parted in the name of space science, you better consult this fine list.

From BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Have Been Probed By Aliens

#10 – Your Butt Hurts

In theory, this could be due to a number of reasons, including by not limited to:

  • You’re wiping too hard and giving yourself hemorrhoids.
  • You ate an extra large batch of nacho chili cheese fries with extra hot sauce.  That’ll make the old tooter play a symphony for weeks, so get used to the discomfort.
  • You sat on a sharp object.
  • Brazilian wax.
  • Anal bleaching.
  • Someone kicked it.
  • A hobo had his way with you while you were sleeping.  That’ll teach you to fall asleep near a set of train tracks without a chastity belt.

However, if you’ve engaged in none of these activities then yes, it is highly possible that an alien shoved a carefully calibrated human nervous system mapping projectile up your poop chute.  I loathe being the one to have to break this unsettling news to you.

#2 – You’re a Drunken Redneck

According to the Fake Institute for Bogus Statistics, Southerners have a 97% higher chance of being butt probed by aliens than the rest of the population.  Add too much alcohol into the equation and you’re destined for an intergalactic butt inspection.

Why?  Call it discrimination.  Call it bias.  Call it what you will but whenever Jimmy Bob Bo Jim Jack gets on TV with his best trucker hat and “Honk if You Like Big Titties” shirt with the arms cut off and starts railing about the aliens that abducted him so they could have their way with his butt, people just start laughing and assume it’s the booze talking. Aliens know this and they take full advantage of it to avoid being caught.

Sure, the aliens could abduct and butt probe a boozy Manhattanite, but they’re all so uptight that their instruments usually just snap between their firmly clenched cheeks.

#3 –  You Remember Feeling as Thought Multiple People Were Touching You While You Were Asleep but Were Too Tired to Wake Up and Do Anything About It

Maybe you were abducted and butt probed by aliens.  Maybe you’re just the average, run of the mill college student.  The world may never know.

#4 – Your Butt is Pregnant

You didn’t even have sex.  Even more shocking…you’re a man!  Congratulations!  In nine months, you’ll be the proud father of the spawn that alien scientists inserted up your butt.

#5 – They Left the Probe in Your Butt

Look, not every alien scientist is the intergalactic equivalent of Steven Hawking.  Some are lazy.  Incompetent.  Inept.  Some have questionable credentials.  Some got their science diplomas through space mail.  Some have even been known to leave a probe sticking up the butt of a test subject, much like a meat thermometer stuck in the anal cavity of a Thanksgiving turkey.

At least the turkey gets warm, moist, herb seasoned stuffing shoved up there.  By the way, if you find any stuffing up your butt, then maybe you weren’t probed.  Maybe someone tried to eat you but changed his mind after deciding you don’t taste good.

#6 – Your Butt Hurts Twice in One Year

Maybe you didn’t learn your lesson about the nacho chili cheese fries with extra hot sauce earlier.  Maybe the aliens came back to get a second reading.  Again, the world may never know.

#7 – Your Farts Sound Like Electronic Codes

A sure sign that aliens probed you and left behind a microchip that allows your butt to communicate with the mother ship.

#8 – The Aliens Left Behind a Pamphlet

Some of the more considerate aliens have been known to leave behind a pamphlet on the nightstand of their test subjects.  It usually reads something like, “So You’ve Been Probed Up the Butt in the Name of Space Science.”  Topics include, “It Wasn’t Your Fault” and “Be Proud of the Many Scientific Breakthroughs that Will Occur Thanks to Your Butt Probe.”

#9 – Video Of the Inside of Your Butt Has Appeared on Cable

Not gonna lie.  Some aliens sell their probing videos to the highest bidder.  Somewhere amongst the thousands of cable channels out there, in depth footage of your Hershey Highway might being aired right now.  Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?

#10 – Your Butt Glows in the Dark

Some probes include a homing beacon that will flash, thus allowing the mother ship to spot your butt from space.  And you thought your butt was only visible from space because you got off your diet, didn’t you?

PARTING ADVICE

Equip your butt with a loud, obnoxious alarm.  Hire armed guards to protect your butt as you sleep.  Never lie down without putting on a pair of iron underpants secured with a sturdy padlock.  Break the key in four pieces and leave each piece in one of the world’s four hemispheres.  Really, people.  This is just common sense.  Protect your butt!

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Stop Sucking with Vinny Baggadouchio – Coping with Sucky Regrets

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World Renowned Motivational Speaker/Anti-Suck Expert Vinny Baggadouchio

I’m Vinny Baggadouchio and when it comes to karate chopping suckyness, I’m a black belt.  Perhaps you have read one of my fine anti-suck books:

Who Needs to Suck When You Don’t Have To?

I Can’t Stand This Sucky Feeling

Suck Ways to Saturday

The Suckback of Notre Dame

Suck Out the Suck

Set the Suck Aside

Kiss My Suck and Call It Ice Cream

A Brief History of Sucky Times

All Aboard the Anti-Suck Train

Make America Not Suck Again

Build a Wall Around the Suck and Make the Suck Pay For It

Who Let the Suck Out?

3.5 suckers, I’ve been busy spreading my suck free message across the world, consulting with the rich, famous and powerful and teaching them how to not suck.  And when I’m not busy sucking the suck out of celebrities, I make plenty of time to help poor suckers come to grips with their sucking.

Why, just last week I held the “Tenth Annual Gala to Bring An End to All the Things that Make Poor People’s Lives Suck.”  It was a rousing success and I’m happy to report that I helped a grand total of 10,000 sucky poor people get started on the path to a suck free life.

But enough about me.  Here’s today’s question:

Dear Vinny B,

I’m getting older.  Forty is just around the corner and when I look back on my life, I realize that it really sucked.  Seriously.  It sucked so bad.  All the sucky things in life happened to me and none of the non-sucky things happened to me.

Even worse, I made decisions that sucked.  I didn’t realize at the time how I was sucking up my life.  It didn’t dawn on me until I was able to look back on all the sucky behavior in hindsight.

I regret my sucky past but now I face an even suckier dilemma.  Is it too late to stop sucking?  I feel like everyone judges me based on my sucky decisions.  I’ve woken up and smelled the non-suck, but try as I might, I’m trapped in a suck cycle.  I want to not suck but the weight of all my past sucks weighs me down.

Am I doomed to always suck?

Sincerely,

Once a Sucker, Always a Sucker

Wow.  Sorry to hear about all that suck, Sucker.  That really sucks.

Let’s face the sucky truth.  Life has a tendency to suck.  Even worse, when we are young, we are trained to think that it won’t suck.  All the adults tells us positive things and treat us like mush brained dummies when we are young.  It keeps young people from making plans to combat a sucky life.

So, you made some sucky decisions.  You did some sucky things and you had sucky things happen to you.  You can’t let suck define you.  You can’t let suck bog you down.

Yes, we all wish we could take the knowledge we have learned about how not to suck, travel back in time, and give it to our younger selves, only to then find ourselves in a suck free present.  Alas, the state of time travel technology really sucks, so we aren’t there yet.

Still, you are alive and you have time to not suck.  Sure, you don’t have as much time as you wish you had to not suck, but there’s still time to not suck.  Only a sucker doesn’t use all of his time to not suck, no matter how much or how little time is left.  Be your least sucky self, always and no matter what.

You regret how much your past forty years sucked?  That sucks.  Don’t get to sixty and regret not taking steps in the past twenty years to not suck.  You had an excuse to suck when you were young.  You were young and you didn’t know any better.

Now you are older and wiser.  You’ve been knocked around by the sucky world.  You know the ins and outs of suck-dom.  You know how to curtail your sucky behaviors.  You know the suckyness that happens if you don’t.  Sorry pal, but you’re all out of excuses to keep sucking, so grab that anti-suck bull by the horns and ride it for the rest of your life.

“Regrets, I’ve had a few,” Frank Sinatra used to sing.  So, you have a few, or even a lot.  It’s time to wipe the suck slate.

You can’t change your sucky past, but the story of your future has yet to be written.  Will you write it with a sucky pen or will you vow to put an end to all your sucky ways for good?

The choice is yours, Sucker.  Choose to not suck, always and no matter what.  It’s never to late to not suck.

By the way, you can buy my new anti-suck book, It’s Never Too Late to Not Suck at a book store near you that doesn’t suck.

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You’re in Luck, 3.5 Readers

A new chapter of Toilet Gator and it isn’t even Sunday.  Enjoy!

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RIP Don Rickles

Hey 3.5 dummies.

Sad news for the comedy world as legendary insult comic Don Rickles has died at the age of 90.  He is basically the inventor of insult comedy and also rolled with the Rat Pack aka Frank Sinatra and friends.

Here’s my favorite memory of Don Rickles, when he appeared in 1998’s Dirty Work starring Norm MacDonald and Artie Lange as a duo of schmucks who start a revenge for hire business.  This movie is kind of an acquired taste.  I’ve talked to people who love it or hate it, but no one in between.  Rickles is the best part of the film:

What’s your favorite Don Rickles moment?

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Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a Ventriloquist Dummy

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Hello ladies.

Bookshelf Q. Battler here.

Is your boyfriend stiff?  Some might say even a little wooden?  Well, I don’t want to alarm you but just in case, from Bookshelf Q. Battler Headquarters in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a Ventriloquist Dummy:

#10 – He’s got wood.

Maybe it’s because he was carved out of an old tree, or maybe it’s because he’s a man.  Inconclusive.

#9 – He only speaks when you shove your hand up his ass.

Maybe it’s because he’s a puppet and that’s the only way he can speak…or maybe he’s a man with a girlfriend and thus, that’s the only way he’s allowed to speak.  Again, inconclusive.

#8 – Has a squeaky voice.

Maybe he has a squeaky voice because he’s a dummy or maybe he just suffers from a debilitating testosterone deficiency.  Inconclusive.

#7 – He’s a big dummy.

Maybe he’s a big dummy because he is a dummy but then again, has there ever been a woman in existence who didn’t think that her boyfriend or husband was a big dummy at one point in time or another?  Inconclusive.

#6 – Tells terrible jokes.

Most dummies do, but what man doesn’t?  Inconclusive.

#5 – Might Be an Evil Murderer

Yeah, but then again, any boyfriend might be an evil murderer.  Do you follow your boyfriend all day and night long?  Do you know where he is right now?  Inconclusive.

#4 – Can Still Talk While You’re Drinking Water

Either you’re an exceptional ventriloquist, or just a regular water drinker and your boyfriend likes to talk while you are thirsty.  Inconclusive.

#3 – Can Turn His Head Around 360 Degrees

That could mean that he’s a ventriloquist dummy but it could also mean that he’s been possessed by a demon.  Is your boyfriend a blasphemous heathen that inadvertently invited inexplicable evil to take up residence in his carcass?  Inconclusive.

#2 – His face is expressionless.

Yeah, but most men are bad when it comes to expressing their emotions.  Inconclusive.

#1 – Always has a snappy comeback.

True, that could be a sign that he’s a dummy but keep in mind men tend to say dickish things at extremely inappropriate times.  Inconclusive.

CONCLUSIONS

I have just scientifically proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is literally no way to tell whether or not your boyfriend is a human or a ventriloquist dummy, since there are so many similarities between the two.  Therefore, just to be on the safe side, you must assume your boyfriend is a ventriloquist dummy at all times.

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Dear 3.5 Readers

Writing is too hard.  I am too old and fat to be bothered with it anymore.  I have decided to lie down in the street and wait for the Yeti to eat me, for he too is fat.

I leave this blog to my dear Video Game Rack Fighter.  I advise her to sell it for 3.5 dollars to 3.5 Japanese businessmen.  May they have more luck with this site, perhaps by turning it into an online advertising forum for Japanese fish soap.

VGRF, I know it will be very lonely for you when I am gone.  That is why I want you to forego the ridiculous idea that you could ever meet a man better than yours truly and instead, stuff my reconstructed body and pose me on the couch so that you could look longingly at me for the rest of your days.

Take care, 3.5 readers.  You guys really blew it by not becoming 3,500.5 readers.  I am off to become Yeti chow now and my journey will end as I am passed through the Yeti’s colon.

Sincerely,

BQB, Soon to Be Yeti Poop (Which in Retrospect, Renders My Request to Be Posthumously Stuffed Null and Void)

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 6

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In the first floor lavatory of the Beta Theta Zeta sorority house, Gretchen primped herself in front of the mirror, being careful to make sure her makeup was just right.

“Ahem,” Eleanor said as she pulled a crinkled up piece of paper out of her pocket and flattened it out on the sink counter. “I wrote you a little something.”

“You did?” Gretchen asked. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Please,” Eleanor said. “You know spoken word poetry is my bag. Ahem.”

Eleanor coughed at least six or seven more times into her hand until her vocal chords were primed and ready. She then read from the paper. “‘My love for you is like a river – deep, winding, mysterious…and oh so wet.’”

“That’s nice,” Gretchen said. “Short and sweet – just like you.”

“It’s not over,” Eleanor said.

Gretchen ran a tube of bubblegum colored lipstick over her lips. “Oh sorry.”

“Come,” Eleanor read from her masterpiece. “Join me! Become one with my spiritual canoe and together we will float down a river filled with our love forever and ever and ever and ever and…”

“Thanks, Elle,” Gretchen said.

It wasn’t over. “…and ever and ever and ever…”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “You’ve got a way with words.”

“There was like twenty more ‘and evers’ but I think you get the gist,” Eleanor said.

Gretchen smiled and pecked Eleanor on the cheek. The hipster girl’s cheek flushed.

“That was wonderful,” Gretchen said. “Thank you.”

“So,” Eleanor said. “Will you?”

“Will I what?” Gretchen asked.

Eleanor through up her arms in exasperation. “Float down the river of love with me for ever and ever and ever…”

Gretchen’s stomach turned. “Oh…you were serious?”

Eleanor was quiet for a moment, then blew Gretchen a raspberry. “Pbbbht! As if!”

Gretchen giggled. “Oh my God! You got me!”

“I totally got you!” Eleanor said.

“I mean, I’m only twenty-one,” Gretchen said. “‘Forever is a long time and I don’t know if I’m done with penis yet.’”

Eleanor fumed, then took a deep breath and calmed herself down. “How do you not know if you are done with the very instrument of oppression that men the patriarchy has been unleashing upon the sisterhood since the dawn of time?”

“The penis?” Gretchen asked.

“Yes!” Eleanor shouted. “Of course, the penis! How do you think the patriarchy…”

Wham! The bathroom door flew open and a quartet hurried in just in time to avoid Eleanor’s latest antri-patriarchy rant.

“Get me to the shitter!” Chad cried. “For the love of God, get me to the shitter!”

“Move!” Britney shouted. “Everyone out of the way!”

“Chad,” Lilly said. “I know this is a bad time but do you want to go out next weekend?”

“Can’t…talk,” Chad said as Britney and Paul led the big man on campus into a stall. “Must…poop…out…everything…I have ever eaten before…in my entire…life.”

“That’s cool,” Lilly said. “You can hit me up later on Lifebox or something.”

Paul closed the stall door and he and Britney stepped back as Chad did his dirty business.

“Ohhh!” Chad cried as the bathroom became engulfed in an orchestra of terrible sounds and even worse smells. “Sweet relief!”

“Just let it all out, man,” Paul said. “You’ll be fine.”

Gretchen stepped away the mirror and looked at Paul and Britney. “Oh my God. Is that Chad Becker?”

A series of toots erupted from the stall before Chad answered. “In the flesh, babe…”

“Oh my God,” Gretchen said. “Chad! Why didn’t you call me back?”

“Oh,” Britney said. “For the love of…seriously?”

“Which one are you again?” Chad asked as the toilet bowl ramped up the echoes of his butt blasts.

“Gretchen Dieterman,” Gretchen said.

“Short girl,” Chad said. “A little pudgy?”

“God no,” Gretchen replied.

“I don’t know,” Chad said as he stood up off on the toilet. He got down on his knees on the dirty bathroom floor and puked into the already brown toilet water. “I’ll check my records and get back to you.”

“That’s cool,” Gretchen said as she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “Whatevs.”

“Wait,” Lilly said. “Chad, you said you were going to call ME back three months ago. Now you’re going to call this skank back before me?”

“Them’s the breaks, girl…BLEAH!!!”

Gretchen got into Lilly’s face. “Who are you calling a skank, bitch?”

Lilly refused to back down. “Who are you calling a bitch, bitch?”

Britney positioned herself in-between the bickering females. “Are you two really going to fight over this loser?”

Chad was back, sitting on the bowl again. More farts. More smells. “Babe, I’m not a loser. What do you call a man who dedicated ten years of his life to getting a two-year community college degree?”

“A loser,” Britney said.

“Well,” Chad said. “You say tomato, I say ‘tomahto.’ You call me a loser, but I just say that means I’m committed.”

“Like you know anything about commitment, Chad,” Britney said. “Your parents just keep paying for you to go here because they don’t want you living with them, destroying their house and you keep failing classes because you know you’ll never make it in the real world.”

“Wait,” Lilly said.

“You dated him too?” Gretchen asked.

“Worst mistake of my life,” Britney said.

“Paul!” Chad shouted. “Paul, you out there bro?”

“Yeah,” Paul replied.

“Gonna need some major TP, bro!”
“Right,” Paul said. The nerd opened up an empty stall, pulled the toilet paper roll out of the dispenser, then hurled it over the side of Chad’s stall.

“Much obliged, kemo sabe,” Chad said.

“Don’t mention it,” Paul said.

“Whoa,” Lilly said. “How do we know you’re not over Chad?”

“Yeah,” Gretchen said. “Maybe you’re just trying to scare us off so you can have him all to yourself.”

Chad’s backside ripped a sound akin to the motor of a struggling leaf blower. “Putt, putt, putt, putt, putt…”

“If that doesn’t scare you off, nothing will,” Britney said.

Eleanor had had enough of this unsavory display. She stopped her foot and started screaming. “Enough! Gretchen, you dated that…that…thing in there?”

“I told you I didn’t know if I was done with penis yet,” Gretchen said.

“Why is he here?” Gretchen said as he pointed at Chad’s stall. She then pointed at Paul. “And why is he here? This is a female restroom only!”

“It was an emergency,” Britney said. “The idiot soused himself on Spazenbrau and it was literally coming out of both ends.”

Chad farted. “Still is.”

“This is unacceptable,” Eleanor said as she pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling campus police.”

“Oh come on,” Britney said. “Is that really necessary?”

“It is absolutely necessary,” Eleanor said.

“But Elle,” Gretchen whined. “You’re going to get him in trouble!”

“He got himself in trouble by coming in here,” Eleanor said.

Chad let a few stinkers rip, then interrupted the conversation. “I identify as a chick!”

Eleanor’s face scrunched up. “What?”

“I self-identify as a female!” Chad shouted between butt blasts. “I just now started thinking, ‘Damn, I really wish I was born with a vagina instead of a penis. What a drag.’”

Paul laughed. Britney lowered her head into hear hands out of sheer embarrassment.
Eleanor swiped the hang up button on her phone. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a chick on the inside and I have a spiritual vagina,” Chad said. “And Sitwell Community College has a very strict policy when it comes to people being allowed to use the bathroom that corresponds to their gender identity.”

“Oh no,” Eleanor said as she put her phone back in her pocket. “I’m very sorry I disturbed you, ma’am.”

“You should be!” Chad shouted as he strained on the toilet. “Oh Jesus, my ass is on fire!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Eleanor said. “I consider myself to be one of the most woke students on this campus but I guess we all make mistakes.”

“It’s cool,” Chad said. “Not your fault you’re a dumbass.”

“I can relate because sometimes I wish I was born with a penis instead of a vagina,” Eleanor said.

“Well,” Chad said. “Would that I could rip my penis off and trade you your vagina for it but I’m no medical scientist so I don’t know how to do that.”

Britney shook her head. “I just…I can’t believe this is my life.”

Paul just laughed and laughed and laughed.

“Wait,” Eleanor said as she looked at Paul. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Paul asked.

“Do you also self-identify as a female?”

Paul scratched his head and stalled for awhile.

“Tell her the truth, Beermeister,” Chad said.

“I…I…”

Chad made a courtesy flush, then turned the new water brown instantly. “Tell her about your spiritual cooter, dummy!”

“I’m uh…just going to be outside.” Paul walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

“That’s too bad that you’re a woman now, Chad,” Gretchen said. “I was really hoping to do something with you.”

“Me too,” Lilly said.
“Skank,” Gretchen said.

“Bitch,” Lilly replied.

“Oh, don’t worry ladies,” Chad said. “I can still stick it to the two of you.”

Eleanor pulled the phone out of her pocket. “I knew it! You love your penis and you are ruled by it! I’m calling the cops!”

“No, no!” Chad said. “Gender is fluid!”

“Oh,” Eleanor said as she returned the phone to her pocket. “I forgot about it.”

“Today I hate my penis, thus allowing me to use the ladies’ room,” Chad said. “But for all I know, I might start loving the little guy again and may even feel manly enough to give it to Lucy and Gretel over there.”

“Lilly,” Lilly said.

“Gretchen,” Gretchen added.

“I’m a monster,” Eleanor said. “Please forgive me.”

Chad unleashed a torrent of plops right into the toilet. “It’s a tall order but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said. “You’re very brave.”

“I know,” Chad replied.

“Damn it,” Britney muttered under her breath. “He can even charm lesbians.”

“What?” Eleanor asked.

“Oh nothing,” Britney said as she leaned up against the wall.

All of a sudden, the pipe connecting to Chad’s toilet rumbled.

“Jesus, Chad,” Britney said. “Is that you?”

“I don’t think so,” Chad replied.

“RAAARRRRRGHHHH!” A loud, beastly roar filled the bathroom. The wall of the stall flew off. It sailed through the air before landing on top of the four girls, pinning them to the ground.

Chad had no idea what was consuming him. All he knew was that something sharp, actually many sharp somethings, were shredding his torso, tearing him and grinding him apart, mashing his body into mush and spraying his body and bits everywhere.

“Oh God!” were Chad’s last words. “I haven’t banged enough chicks yet! Oh God!”

Britney’s vision was blurry, a condition caused by her head smacking into the bathroom floor. She pulled herself out from underneath the stall wall and crawled along the watery floor. The broken pipe sent gallons everywhere.

“Hissssssss….”

Britney turned her head toward the scary sound. Her eyes started to focus. For a brief moment, she caught site of what her brain registered as an enormous, menacing, toothy lizard. It stared at Britney. Britney stared back, then she passed out.

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Six Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays!

Truly, the longest meaningful commitment I’ve ever made…

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