After contracting alien hand syndrome I thought

After contracting alien hand syndrome I thought it'd be great for giving myself "the stranger". But then one day something happened that was not a no worries situation.

I immediately went to my doctor and explained what I had done. Dr. Gusset asked me to drop my pants as she put on a pair of gloves. She carefully examined my penis that appeared to

sprout from my female nether-regions. "Quite odd," said Dr. Gusset. "But at the same time convenient," I added, helpfully. "So, what sex am I really?" Dr. Gusset didn't answer,

I was excited that I could at last ditch my Shewee, but perturbed by Dr Gusset's clamming up on this important topic. "Am I a lady boy or a boy lady? Am I allowed to burp freely or

dain the next human that walked through the door. It was, my uncle. Now that he was Belch Ordained he could preside as the Passed Gas Pastor at my wedding.

The fart heard all over the world happened at my cousin Vinnie's wedding and the Passed Gas Pastor folded stories in his spare time. When he wasn't sneezing, he was laughing loud

they plugged my bunghole, and after four days the explosion was enough to alert aliens in another galaxy that something was going on here on Earth. They wisely decided not to

press charges for the crater my exploding bunghole left on their moon. In fact, it turned out to be a nice addition - it completed the nose on their moon's face, so they erected a

plaque with my name embossed in glossy, gold lettering. Making that crater had been the best accident I'd ever caused - I became a minor internet celebrity shortly afterwards.