More to Mars

Unless you been living on Mars you’ve know that  a couple of weeks ago NASA announced that they have discovered evidence of the presence of water flowing on the red planet’s surface as of recently! This was indeed exciting news for both proponents of Mars and fans of water alike.

Today, in an even more astounding story, NASA has dropped another bomb on the American people. Literally. A Mars rover, doing regular recon, discovered a fresh turd on Mars’ dry surface! Not a fossilized butt bomb but a fresh creamy gut pie nestled amongst scatterd surface gravel! Using the rover’s small mechanical arms, scientists gently pushed, pulled, and massaged through the extraintestinal ass candy and discoverd many strange contents amongst the muck. Apparently Martians love corn! Several kernels lay dormant within the confines of this captains log! What does this mean? I think it’s obvious.

Native Americans love corn. They introduced it to the white man and in turn the white man discovered corn’s resiliance in the heat of butt battle. The white man, perhaps because of unrelated circumstances, came to lovingly refer to the Native American as red man. Mars is known as the Red Planet! Red planets are most likely inhabited by red men! This analytical info combined with todays corny discovery only equate to one thing, there’s a Native American with the runs planting fudgenugs on Mars so if there is indeed water there please don’t drink it!

Oops! All Berries

Mutiny on the Bounty

Gather ’round and lend me your ears for I am about to reveal a well kept secret once known only by the Cap’n himself. What is the secret you ask? I have discovered the formula for turning brown to green! No it’s not by combining yellow and blue, the formula is YOU + a box of Cap’n Crunch presents OOPS! All Berries brand breakfast cereal. Simply combine and serve. Soft serve that is. You see at some point the Cap’n decided to concoct a cereal comprised solely of Crunch Berries. Yes, he tossed the bright yellow gum ripping cereal bricks overboard only to batten down your hatches with spoonfuls of brightly colored sugar orbs. All hands to the poop deck! When your turds are finally forced to walk the plank after a berry beating, they will look quite akin to Sir Isaac Lime Otter-Pops! Conspiracy? I think so. Isn’t it convenient that two kings of the sugary sea have found a way to join forces and rattle the foundations of regularness? I see a mutiny on the Bounty!

Flaming Hot Cheetos

Fire in the hole!

To the fine consumers of Frito-Lay’s line-up of crunchy, salty, go anywhere grab bags of snackery, I issue this warning so that you may save your forbidden love tunnels from the fiery wrath of a post consumed sack of Flaming Hot Cheetos. Like most snackers with a taste for adventure and a hunger for unpredictability, I succumbed to the big red beckoning bag that lay dormant between the Munchos and the roof of the mouth ripping Funyuns. Though I found myself drenched in perspiration as my taste buds exploded with fiery deliciousness, I couldn’t stop the inevitable consumption of every last finger paintin’ corn log in the bag! As I licked the caked on red from my now lonely finger tips I was halted when I felt a rumble in the Bronx. My guts tremored and juiced as they unwillingly welcomed their mushy red guests into the confines of their tubiness. What was to follow could be considered the 9/11 of bowel movements. The splattery mud gushed out with a fiery sting that stabbed at my sphicter like a red hot poker! It impacted the water on it’s burning decent, causing a cool splash back that put out the fire if for only a moment followed by the next violent bout of Chester’s revenge. Once the smoke cleared and it was time to clean ground zero, the butt-wipe applied to the affected area burned the inside track, as if my schute was a well read book at a Nazi BBQ. The moral of this story is that F.H.C.’s don’t taste as good on the way out as they do on the way in.