The doctor was arrogant. "B'chugerroth? These

The doctor was arrogant. "B'chugerroth? These are old wives' tales, Katelyn," he sniffed. "There's no demon here. Just old superstitions that die hard." But the wind told otherwise

The wind told stories of people who could fit their whole arm inside someone's asshole. Everybody in the room clutched their head in both hands as blood erupted from their ears.

Unfortunately, the wind failed to mention the people who could insert their hands in their ears, and the fact that those in the room were those people, strewing mangled grey matter

like a boiled bunch of floppy rigatoni, wet, warm, and soft. The brains splattered everywhere like helicopters dropping octopi. It smelled like boiled eggs and he looked

deeply confused. Why, he wondered, in such a grotesque situation, was he thinking of food? He wasn't feeling particularly hungry. He decided it must be psychologically related to

force feeding himself his mother's abhorrent cooking all those years. Her specialty was beanie weenie juice (canned beanie weenies with the beans and hot dogs removed) with little

else on his diet until he was 18 it is no wonder that he became a beano junkie. A couple pills every hour kept down the worst of the bloating. Still his career as the human bagpipe

skyrocketed. The precision with which he controlled his sphincter gave his human bagpipe tone a richness and articulateness that moved people to tears. He often played at funerals

, colonoscopy jamborees, and gerbil christenings. As his ad on the local news said, "Why celebrate an invasive procedure without me, a human bagpiper? Call today!" The phones rang