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Billy Mays woke up. He throat was dry. He

  • Billy Mays woke up. He throat was dry. He couldn't lift his head. That's when he felt the piano wire around his throat, the Russians told him to lay still.

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  • Despite warnings, Billy struggled with his bondage, demanding that no Soviet guards were going to deny him the freedom to pitch Oxyclean in infomercials. The guard whipped him but

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  • he liked it. He had been a baad boy and these little whippings by the guards were nothing compared to his S&M parties back home. He had to get out of here even if just to get a go

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  • poop. The large, theoretically last, meal had really filled his colon. The guards sure were watching him like a hawk. Not really a problem for him. His mastery of

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  • poop-jitsu allowed him to retract and expand his bowels to hold the contents of 5 well-balanced meals consisting of the four main

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  • foodgroups: hohos, twinkies, honeybuns and pop-tarts. When the people at Letterman called to ask if he could appear on the 'stupid human tricks' segment he was elated.

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  • He practiced all night, so far he could get ten hard boiled eggs in his mouth. He sat in David's green room next to the man who could stop a fan with his tongue. Saddly, he missed

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  • the classic hundred-cigarettes-in-mouth man. Sure, it was cliche, but you gotta see it once in your life like any tourist trap. He started feeling odd about the oral fixation ward,

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  • and slowly looked around at the other patients. There was this small bearded man in the corner rocking back and forth with a pacifier in his mouth. The tough guy biting his thumb.

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  • I was balled up under the table with my 3 Muskateers bar. I loved them, & there was no way I was going to share it. I did see Cher eyeing my chocolate earlier, no way. Its mine.

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