Dec 202007
 

Pele hadn’t been walking right for a good portion of the week. Chester wasn’t into men or anything, but he couldn’t help his eyes from floating down to Pele’s ass every time he passed by Chester’s cubicle in the office.

Writing it off as overzealous anal sex practicing, Chester went back to licking envelopes. The taste of the glue reminded him of his mom’s breath, which he smelt every morning when she would send him off to school. It was from all of the cleaning solution she would drink in her tea, hoping to end her life. Cleaning up his father’s pubic hairs from the bathroom had really taken a toll on her over the years.

One Wednesday afternoon, Chester was walking past the restroom after fetching his lunch from the office kitchen, when he overheard a loud cry of anguish ricocheting on the other side of the bathroom door. He paused, glancing at his lunchsack containing a relish sandwich, and deliberated ignoring the deathly wail of his fellow co-worker in favor of tearing into his delicious lunch.

But Chester was too nice for that. He had been a hall monitor in grade school, after all. For two straight weeks!

Inside the restroom, he found Pele cowering in one of the stalls, the toilet bowl cloudy with dilluted blood.

"Pele, do you have hemorrhoids?" Pele turned his back toward him and spread his cheeks far and wide. Several swollen lumps sprung out around his rectum.

"I think we need to get you to the hospital! I don’t know how you’ve been walking with all of those swollen flesh buttons." An acrimonious exchange was had, with Pele resisting Chester’s suggestion.

After booting Pele good and swiftly in the ass, aggravating the pain, Pele was putty in Chester’s hands.

Chester sat in the waiting room for a few hours, reading Time and slurping back some decaf from a Dixie cup, when the surgeon approached him. "You can come back now, Mr. Dog."

When Chester entered the recovery room, he was appalled to see Pele’s lifeless body sprawled out on the bed, his decapitated head discarded next to him.

"Oh. I thought his head was the hemorrhoid," the surgeon offered as his excuse.

To this day, Chester refuses to seek professional care for hemorrhoids. If they get too bad, he whips out the Exacto knife. A strategically placed maxi pad takes care of the bleeding and within a few weeks, he’s able to go back to his spinning class.

  5 Responses to “Hemorrhoid Hijinx”

  1. That is one of the greatest photographs I have seen in weeks.

    Yay, I see my website is on your links list!

  2. … i love how wrong you are.

    it’s just so, right.

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