One would imagine, "I'm going to kill you" or something along those lines, would be the most intimidating thing a giant, tentacled rhino with a gun could yell in this type of moment. However, it became readily apparent that, although its facial features displayed the typically stern I'm-going-to-maul-you look that was all-but-patented by the Earth-species he resembled, his voice was, even under the extreme stress of the moment, still somewhat comical.
As a huge blast of flatulence exploded from its face, mixed with a nasal whistle and what could only be described as something akin to classical music being played entirely by an orchestra who had collectively decided to represent the chaos of today's modern living by playing their instruments only with their feet, while various members of the audience were lit on fire, Steve was left with a decision to make.
He could, on the one hand, attempt to run. Surely that was what the Rhino fellow (whose sentence was just winding down into a low puff of gas) expected. On the other hand, he could do the completely unexpected, and start disrobing. It was these kinds of brilliant ideas that had made him a hit at many a frat party, and he was thankful as ever, for the inspiration.
As he was, with exception to the miraculously and odds-deifying-ly donned sneaker, only wearing a robe, the act of disrobing, was as literal, as it was abrupt.
Flatulistic cacophony erupted out of the Rhino's mouth as it reeled in pain, franticly covering its nostrils with its tentacles. Even as Steve used the distraction to dive into the nearby kitchen, he couldn't help but feel a little insecure. Apparently either the fellow had an extremely sensitive snout, or Steve was taking post-party-body-odor to a whole new level. Catching a whiff of himself as he ran, he conceded that it was entirely likely to be a mixture of both.
Steve, partially due to his mixed states of traction & elevation, was slipping and falling across his kitchen, looking every bit like he was attempting some perverted version of a Slip ‘n Slide commercial rather than running for his life; desperately, he took cover behind the closest counter. His hangover, quite unhelpfully, (not that hangovers were ever known for being anything other than malicious), decided that, in lieu of recent events, it had better hurry up and get on with the vomiting before Steve's stomach was atomized. Steve was, however, able to overpower his hangover's desire to decorate his walls with random bits of badly chewed Cheetos, beer, and one of those little toys you find in a cereal box, with the single thought that he probably had only seconds to live; if he was lucky, and that, if, the hangover kindly waited until Steve was out of harm's way, he would let it vomit all it wanted then.
Delighted with the opportunity to have unchallenged amounts of reverse peristalsis, the hangover agreed, and went silent.
Now might be a good time to mention that the motion an esophagus (that little tube thingy that connects your mouth to your stomach) makes when swallowing, (that's what you do [hopefully] after you chew food) is called "peristalsis". Apparently the author was the only fellow who paid attention to Bill Nye the Science Guy, and thus assumed everyone knew that; when, in fact, it's the single line EVERYONE questions.
...Anyway:
Steve, his instincts telling him to imitate any of the various action heroes he'd watched over the years, took off in a crouched run. His annoyingly external genitals flopping from side to side took considerably away from the overall stealthiness and coolness of his run, but, under the circumstances, he felt he did it quite well.
(The hangover bitched a little about the running, but decided it would just give an extra dry heave later, in compensation.)
The drunkenness, seeing the hangover's inability to purge him from Steve's system, decided that convincing Steve's head to be suddenly attracted to the nearby walls and floors, certainly didn't help matters, though the drunkenness was quickly reprimanded by the hangover, as the two battled for dominance like a particularly frantic pair of high school nerds in a particularly titanic game of Risk, or perhaps Parcheesi.
The sound of the tentacled menace’s screeching farts interrupted Steve’s inner working's bickering, and worked with Steve's instincts, in assuring him that he might live, if he just kept running. Seeing a brief glimmer of hope, and the chance to do something very action-heroish, he dove through his nearby kitchen window, and out onto the lawn below. In retrospect, something best kept in the movies, and left to stunt men trained for that sort of thing.
Steve's skin, having remained fairly quiet throughout all this, decided now was as good a time as any to vent its protests about all the slicing that had been going on, but found its protests relatively unheard, due to the testicles and their crushing.
Steve's pain was nearly euphoric as, while landing, he managed to not only slice a great deal too much skin from his body, but also sprain his ankle with the large amount of pressure he had put on it with his testicular region. In fact, the only thing that kept his testicles from being sprained in the process, was that he was pretty sure they were an unsprainable body part altogether.
His head reeling, he managed to not pass out, and, indeed, even managed to get up, trip briefly over a rather evil-looking garden gnome, and resume running again.
Three painfully naked, blood-stained blocks later, Steve's pace finally began to slow. It didn't appear the beast was chasing him, and his everything hurt.
[Alternate Titles]
Unsprainable Body parts
Personified Bodily States
A man/Flopping Action Hero at war with himself, and a large rhino
Perverted Children's Toys
Ow.
No comments:
Post a Comment