A short story by The Lounge

[KilgoreTrout]

With alacrity he dove through the open window, avoiding the pointing and giggling of the goddess chick.

[Blarg]

Or at least, that was his intention, but his belt loop caught on the window latch and left him hanging half in and half out of the house in an inverted V, short-sleeved City-issued shirt balooning and Sansa-belt shorts agape over his lower back as his poop slid and tumbled down his lower back and came to rest in his hair and tuck itself behind his ears and into the nostril of the biggest dog he had ever seen in his life.

[Mat Sklansky]

The meter reader heard the radio report mention that it was ninety-four degrees as he opened the door to the dank old rowhouse. He realized that he was dreaming because opening a door from a car and listening to a radio outside of one are both absurd.(Luckily for our meter reader, soundwaves travel through the air, and can originate from INSIDE the house! Wait, wait, I've also just heard that they can also originate from ear buds! Well, I never! The things that a guy can learn on a daily basis are amazing.)It was right then that he regretted eating Taco Bell for his last six meals as he was overcome with the runs and the rowhouse didn't have any plumbing, so he crapped his pants something fierce.

He slowly walked back to his car, bow-legged and face clenched like a stepfather's fist, looking like John Wayne with nappy rash, hoping no one was watching him, but too shamed to actually life his eyes up to check.It was just then that a chick that he had a massive crush on came walking down the street, saw him in his poopy-pant predicament, and decided right then that she would never give him the sexytime. This left our friend with 3 realistic options: 1)forget the incident ever occurred and try to walk away with some dignity...2)kill himself...or 3)give homosexuality a try.

As the initial panic subsided he began reassuring himself... "I'm a meter reader goddammit"...and noticed the open window on the rowhouse. With alacrity he dove through the open window, avoiding the pointing and giggling of the goddess chick. Or at least, that was his intention, but his belt loop caught on the window latch and left him hanging half in and half out of the house in an inverted V, short-sleeved City-issued shirt balooning and Sansa-belt shorts agape over his lower back as his poop slid and tumbled down his lower back and came to rest in his hair and tuck itself behind his ears and into the nostril of the biggest dog he had ever seen in his life.

The nostril, itself, was quite lovely.

[John Cole]

As nostrils go.

[Blarg]

He knew from the sound of the sneeze that he was in trouble.

[Dominic]

Stanley looked quite bored and somewhat detached, but then penguins often do.

or

Like an overripe beefsteak tomato rimmed with cottage cheese, the corpulent remains of Santa Claus lay dead on the hotel floor.

take your pick!

[J.A.K.]

Mouth agape, he took the full brunt of the dog's offering-a cocktail of canine phlegm and familiar excrement- while his soft underbelly struggled against the venerable window frame.

[Myrtle]

[ QUOTE ]
The meter reader heard the radio report mention that it was ninety-four degrees as he opened the door to the dank old rowhouse. He realized that he was dreaming because opening a door from a car and listening to a radio outside of one are both absurd.(Luckily for our meter reader, soundwaves travel through the air, and can originate from INSIDE the house! Wait, wait, I've also just heard that they can also originate from ear buds! Well, I never! The things that a guy can learn on a daily basis are amazing.)It was right then that he regretted eating Taco Bell for his last six meals as he was overcome with the runs and the rowhouse didn't have any plumbing, so he crapped his pants something fierce.

He slowly walked back to his car, bow-legged and face clenched like a stepfather's fist, looking like John Wayne with nappy rash, hoping no one was watching him, but too shamed to actually life his eyes up to check.It was just then that a chick that he had a massive crush on came walking down the street, saw him in his poopy-pant predicament, and decided right then that she would never give him the sexytime. This left our friend with 3 realistic options: 1)forget the incident ever occurred and try to walk away with some dignity...2)kill himself...or 3)give homosexuality a try.

As the initial panic subsided he began reassuring himself... "I'm a meter reader goddammit"...and noticed the open window on the rowhouse. With alacrity he dove through the open window, avoiding the pointing and giggling of the goddess chick. Or at least, that was his intention, but his belt loop caught on the window latch and left him hanging half in and half out of the house in an inverted V, short-sleeved City-issued shirt balooning and Sansa-belt shorts agape over his lower back as his poop slid and tumbled down his lower back and came to rest in his hair and tuck itself behind his ears and into the nostril of the biggest dog he had ever seen in his life.

The nostril, itself, was quite lovely.

[/ QUOTE ]

And, just as the dog begin to howl, the door to the room sprang open, revealing the dog’s owner…….a 300 plus pound gay biker.

As he stood there speechless for the moment, the corners of his mouth turned up in a combination sneer and smile.

He just stared at our hero, still hanging upside down from the window sill, with his bare buttocks exposed, still dripping from his unfortunate circumstances.

As the biker slowly strode towards our helpless hero………

[John Cole]

[ QUOTE ]
As the biker slowly strode towards our helpless hero………

[/ QUOTE ]

,Stephen Deadulus, stately, plump Buck Mulligan reached into his pocket and withdrew his shaving kit.

[smurfitup]

Bearing a grin that conveyed the weight of unspeakable perversions, he sampled a bit of the excrement dripping off of Stephen's back.