Sorry OUUC, this isn’t what you think. Take a seat, but watch where you put your ass because this is going to be explosive…
Recently, my friends and I went on a romantic getaway for the weekend to a remote location. Tunes were pumping, bevvies were flowing, mosquitos were sucking and all was well. That is, until a mixture of peer pressure, sexual curiosity and an old frisbee led to our trip going down the toilet. Picture this: a frisbee in one hand, a cruiser in the other, a daunting gaze and an utterance of “you won’t”. Little did I know this would mark the beginning of the worst 24 hours of my life.
My friends swiftly set me up a privacy screen (we do have some level of class after all) and before I knew it my asshole was closer to the ground than a Chinese man taking a squat, my rectal entrance throbbed as it absorbed all of the orangey, sugary goodness that the frisbee was filled with. Now I'd douched before but this feeling was a little different. I stood up after a short 20 minutes. Frisbee was empty, asshole was orange. I immediately knew something was wrong.
I’ve experienced it all: booze poos, Bali belly, even a shit after a Taj Mahal BYO. Nothing, and I mean nothing, compared to this. It started with the burning and cramping and I felt my insides churning. I turned paler than white girls before the beaver ball tanning sesh (pls invite) and my friends' laughter quickly turned to panic. A pot was grabbed and suddenly I was being escorted cheeks first to the nearest A&E.
Two rectal pumps later, my day of horror had ended and all that was left to remind me was an orange ring around the entrance my boyfriend likes most. What started out as a clear-out of our old shed ultimately ended in a clear-out of my asshole. Learn from my mistake. Next time you sit in a frisbee, pick a different coloured drink.
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