2004 is the Year of the Bleeding Ulcer.
How do you get a bleeding ulcer? Hard to say, but I can tell you how I met mine. I went to eat Chinese food--and I don't like Chinese food, and by "don't like" I mean, "I would rather be goat fucked by the spiney tentacles of a many-headed nether-beast than even smell it"--but there I was, eating Chinese food, because my dear friend desperately wanted to go to a Chinese restaurant. And by "dear friend" I mean "syphilitic retarded fetus what walks."
I order something with chicken in it, on the advice of SRWW. Fast forward five hours and I'm on my knees cradling my lover the toilet, expelling every last ounce of food and dignity that was in my body. That would have been bad enough, but fast forward again to the following morning and I'm back in front of the john, on my knees and praying for death, regurgitating blood and bile and then a little more blood.
I did that a few times a day for four days. Then I went to the doctor.
"Bleeding ulcer," he tells me. The ulcer was already there, apparently. The bonus acidity from my uncooked-chicken-induced-vomiting tore it open, ripped it open, whatevered it open, and left me vomiting blood for four days. Then the doctor asks, "Did you know you had an ulcer?"
I stabbed him in the eyes and raped his grandchildren. "No," I said. "I did not know I had an ulcer." And then, "What is it, exactly, that might cause an ulcer?"
"Many things," he tells me. My back pain medication coupled with too much pop, perhaps. "Or," he says, "it could be stress."
Stress? What do I have to be stressed out about? Besides, I don't know, BLEEDING FUCKING ULCERS in my FUCK FUCKING STOMACH.
He gives me a prescription for some medicine for the hole in the space/time continuum that resides in my belly. The pharmacist is curious so I explain how it happened.
He says to me, in his pharmacist voice, "Yougonnasuethefucker?"
Right, because on top of bleeding ulcers and retarded fetus friends, I need a bankrupt immigrant on my conscience. I tell him no, I am not going to sue the fucker. Then I break his kneecaps and set his brain on fire.
How do you get a bleeding ulcer? Hard to say, but I can tell you how I met mine. I went to eat Chinese food--and I don't like Chinese food, and by "don't like" I mean, "I would rather be goat fucked by the spiney tentacles of a many-headed nether-beast than even smell it"--but there I was, eating Chinese food, because my dear friend desperately wanted to go to a Chinese restaurant. And by "dear friend" I mean "syphilitic retarded fetus what walks."
I order something with chicken in it, on the advice of SRWW. Fast forward five hours and I'm on my knees cradling my lover the toilet, expelling every last ounce of food and dignity that was in my body. That would have been bad enough, but fast forward again to the following morning and I'm back in front of the john, on my knees and praying for death, regurgitating blood and bile and then a little more blood.
I did that a few times a day for four days. Then I went to the doctor.
"Bleeding ulcer," he tells me. The ulcer was already there, apparently. The bonus acidity from my uncooked-chicken-induced-vomiting tore it open, ripped it open, whatevered it open, and left me vomiting blood for four days. Then the doctor asks, "Did you know you had an ulcer?"
I stabbed him in the eyes and raped his grandchildren. "No," I said. "I did not know I had an ulcer." And then, "What is it, exactly, that might cause an ulcer?"
"Many things," he tells me. My back pain medication coupled with too much pop, perhaps. "Or," he says, "it could be stress."
Stress? What do I have to be stressed out about? Besides, I don't know, BLEEDING FUCKING ULCERS in my FUCK FUCKING STOMACH.
He gives me a prescription for some medicine for the hole in the space/time continuum that resides in my belly. The pharmacist is curious so I explain how it happened.
He says to me, in his pharmacist voice, "Yougonnasuethefucker?"
Right, because on top of bleeding ulcers and retarded fetus friends, I need a bankrupt immigrant on my conscience. I tell him no, I am not going to sue the fucker. Then I break his kneecaps and set his brain on fire.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
I'm not a big fan of that Chinese foodstuff either.
I was almost down with MC Pee Pants a few days ago.