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

Started: 2011-02-26 22:05:37
Finished: 2012-08-29 17:26:14

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