brought to you by the letter c. I'm not quite sure what the animal was doing there, but it was making some awfully hideous sound. A sigh of relief. I read…..
How I Met This Rambunctious Set Of Ragtag Scoundrels
As time would have it and alcohol would permit, there was a moment, a fraction of my strange and bewildered life when I was pi***ng on the side of building next to what appeared to be a rather large animal. I remember thinking to myself, "Was I still at a bar?, or perhaps I did end up going home with that strange woman?" She had cowboy boots t
hat poked out beneath a rather large pair of t**s. Although we talked for what must have been twenty minutes, that's all I recall. She must have lived on a farm and that is where I must be. Suddenly the animal fell over and before I realized, my dribble had begun to topple on top of a rather odd tuft of fur. “Sh*t, my God what have I done!?” This was no animal, but instead a rather grotesque man, who appeared to have drank too much and was now sleeping in my puddle of water down beer extract. I was still at the bar. But there was still the pressing matter of the man asleep in my p**s. Had I known I would have stepped to the side, but how was I to know; How is anyone to know when beasts like this eat so much and then have no control over their liquor consumption. I could have helped him, but he did seem rather content. Besides, it is no pleasant or proper thing for a man to go rustling through items and people on which are strewn about his own p**s. So Brilliance struck, I’ll kick him and surely he will awaken and my deeds of good will shall shower him with gratitude; Perhaps he’ll buy me a drink! Yes, things were looking up. KICK!! “Hey, hey you do you know what you’re sleeping in”
Movement! Yes he’s waking up. I watched as he began to roll. Holy F**k, this man is comparable to a large buffalo or a new breed of oversized mammal that only odd scientist with a fe**sh for those things might know about. Anyways, he was sitting up. I leaned in to ask him if he was alright. He was breathing but something strange was on his face. It was green, no blue, actual a deep teal. It was stamp on his forehead. Cur….Curious…..Com…Con…Condom. CURIOUS CONDOM! Oh dear. This was no ordinary obese fellow, he was some sort of “fat s*x ring club”. Would his fat posse be around to jump me and throw strange amount of condoms on me. I had to leave. I began to walk to the front of the bar, but I couldn’t help but notice my escape route was blocked. There were only two of them, but they were so absurdly enormous, they had to be part of his “crew”. I quickly ran around and hopped the fence and procured a drink from the nearest waitress attempting to appear casual to see what would happen to my p**s-soaked assailant. Fortunately nothing, they didn’t seem to notice him. I decided wander back in as my drink, was once again empty. I made my way to the bar and as I waited for refreshing refill there next to me was an ass. Yes as round, plump, ass adorned with a rather detailed tramp stamp. But something was curious about this tramp stamp. It had a blue sort of writing at the bottom. I leaned in closer, attempting to be inconspicuous. The color wasn’t blue, it was teal! And it wasn’t part of her tattoo. The letters C, U, R, I, and O were neatly tucked in a thong strap going down her pants. I suddenly realized others were looking at me, for as I was looking my face appeared to have slowly gotten closer to this young woman’s behind. She turned. I smiled and she slapped me. Was she part of this “Curious Condom Fat S*x Club” as well? She did not appear to have any extra pounds to lend to a meat hungry, s*x addicted, whale of a man. My curiosity was getting the best of me. I needed to p**s again. Perhaps I would try the restroom this time. As I approached the door a strange Asian looking man appeared and bumped into me and something fell to the floor. He was polite and said excuse me as he knelt to retrieve the lost item. It was a stamp! I noticed a teal coloring to the bottom and I saw letters on top that surely spelled the word “Curious” and another word that started with a “C”. I was stunned as I thought. Who was this small Asian man and why was he part of a s*x ring that involved fat people and one girl with a tramp stamp. I had to find out. However, when I realized what I had to do, the small Asian man was gone. And I….was about to p**s on myself. After relieving myself, I found myself yet again outside asking another waitress for a drink. Upon receiving it, a gentleman bumped into me spilling my drink everywhere. What was going on this place? Fat people in s*x clubs, strange little Asian men, and everyone seemed to be running into me. This particular upstanding gentleman was neither Asian nor Fat. He apologized and immediately ordered me a drink. He was carrying a rather large round container. As he pushed his way through the crowd, something caught my eye. A teal paint that garnished the side of container that read “IOUS COMB” (The rest was painted around the side and I could not see. In his back pocket were two large wooden sticks. Perhaps there was more. This “Fat Person S*x Club” was in fact a “Fat Person Torture S*x Club”, and this was clearly the facilitator. I had found my holy grail of information to the conundrum that plagued my evening. But he too was gone in the crowd. I sat down saddened, drunk, and far too obsessed with fat people, s*xual tortures, small Asian men, and that girl whose ass I seemed to have gotten way too close to. Another gentleman sat down next to me. He had a bottle in his hand. He offered me a drink and asked what was bringing me down. I explained my troubles. He seemed bewildered, but raised his left hand and poured me another drink. “I’m not sure what to tell you about fat people and s*xual tortures, but I’m told there is good music inside if you want to come listen.” Depressed and far more drunk than before, I agreed. I followed this gentleman as he walked into the bar. He had a curious swagger about him as he passed by counter towards the stage. The bartender seemed to instinctively hand him a drink. I straggled behind as he approached closer and closer to the stage. This crazy bastard must really love the music, he is going for the front row. As I watched he stepped up and reached for the guitar. Then I noticed! The little Asian man was there with a bass, the tall man with the sticks and s*xual torture container was on drums, and the man with bottle and invitation for music singing loud and playing his guitar. I listened as they played; And oh did they play such grand tunes. My ears felt as if bliss was all they knew and stray thoughts of s*xual tortures, fat people, and even the tramp stamp girls ass all began to melt away. As they finished, I found myself completely in content. After the show the gentleman reconvened with me, along with his two counterparts. We all began to drink. Towards the end of the night, I found myself at one of their lovely abodes enjoying the great pleasures of life, good people, and music. I sat there and suddenly my mind began to wander. What happened to the fat people? What happened to the s*xual tortures? Unexpectedly, I was struck by something. It hit my arm. I looked up and saw that drummer, (or s*xual torture facilitator, I still wasn’t quite sure). He held something in his hand that shined with a rather bluish tint. Or perhaps it wasn’t blue, but instead…..teal! I looked at my arm. It read….”CURIOUS COMBINED”. “What is this?” He smiled and handed me another drink. Then I realized. There was no fat people s*x torture club; just good music and a copious amount of alcohol. I was at peace.
