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#BROWNFRIDAY

#BROWNFRIDAY

It was another lonely Friday night movie marathon. I had just finished watching “Forrest Dump” and “The Secret Life of Walter Shitty.” Depressed by my solitude and inspired by the films, I decided it was time to do something more with my life. I wanted to be a fart of something. So I put down my poopcorn, refrigerated my fartichoke dip, and went for the door. I had the hole wide world in front of me.

I set course for down-town, having barely stepped out the door, when I had the good fortune of a brown cat cross my path. I knew today was different; there was a whiff of excitement in the air.

I tread deeper through the bowels of the city and came across a crowd of people making a big stink. They were protesting Brown Friday, despite the shitty-wide savings. This was exactly the sort of thing I wanted to be a fart of! I was immediately swept up in the mob.  I joined in and judgementally, shamed the fat-cats and their brown-nosing cohorts. I tossed rocks through windows, chanted at the top of my lungs, bolstered up a picket sign, reading: Make Fart, Not War. Holy shit did I feel alive!

However, around quarter to poo things began to escalate. The cops grew aggressive. Caught up in everything, my response was the same. I turned and punched an officer in the face. I gave him a brown eye.

I turned and ran as fast as I could fucking run. The pigs were hot on my heels. I gave them a good run for their money but slipped on a patch of brown ice and fell right on my ass. Needless to say, the poolice apprehended me.

They dragged me kicking and creaming to the cop car. Luckily, I made a last minute wriggle and slipped out of their hold. I slipped into the shadows, like a fart in the wind. I stayed there for days until shit settled down. Exasperated, I was finally able to make my way home. I turned on my I-poo, toggled between N*Stync and Feart, and made the arduous trek back home.

Relieved, I finally returned home, but collapsed. With those revolutionary notions out of my system I decided that from then on I would never get caught up in that romanticized rebelliousness again, and just stick to my boring farts degree.

Fill in the field, reporting his doody.

 
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Posted by on January 9, 2015 in Farticles, Fill in the Field

 

Brownbeard’s Shitwreck

Brownbeard’s Shitwreck

Having finished so quickly at the ancient Sphincter (I swear that never happens) I decided to spend the rest of my trip visiting the most mysterious place on the planet; the shitwreck of Brownbeard himself. After all, it was on my bucket list and 50 Shades of Brown was footing the bill. This was an opportunity that cums only once in a brown moon.

It was Pooly 15th, my birthday. I left at the crack of dawn for the Brown Sea. Without a map to guide me I intuitively traveled what I believed was Brownbeard’s treasure trail.  The voyage was tiring. I traveled through the Poohara desert for four solid days with little food and next to no water.  I began to get woozy, fell onto my back, and completely browned out. As I transitioned back to wakefulness I felt the world sway beneath me. Startled, I looked around to find myself on a giant ship.

“Mop the poop-deck you scallywag!” It was Brownbeard. Before I could get my shit together the ghostly Brownbeard swooped down and cuffed me by my anklets.

“Fuck off!” I said, like a handsome and valiant prince.

But it was no use. Brownbeard was deaf, ill-tempered, and poowerful. I was dragged by his henchman to the rowing lines and was made to work until we clocked in at four shits to the wind. The combination of our speed and the chaotic waters below made me feel nauseous.  I struggled to hold down my dinner. My head throbbed. The sickness spread through my body; from head to toe I was ill.

I browned out again.

When I woke up I was back in the Poohara. It was a miracle, a mirage, or some nightmarish wet dream. Exhausted, I finally got it up and meandered back to Peegypt. Back at the hotel I squatted at my desk and wrote in my captain log:

“Whether reality or fantasy that Brownbeard is sure an asshole.”

Fill in the field, reporting his doody.

 
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Posted by on June 24, 2013 in Farticles, Fill in the Field

 

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Fill in the Field

brownport 2

The Mystery of King Toot

I’ve always had an insatiable curiosity for antiquity, particularly that of the ancient Peegyptians. So needless to say when 50 Shades of Brown approached me to do paid fieldwork I was excitedly speechless.

Mythology has long laid the claim that savage Boobarians once inhabited the Brown Sea region of Peegypyt. But do the fartifacts say otherwise?

The Boobarians were rumored to be a warrior society in which the Brown Belt represented the highest rank of military order under the reign of King Toot. As my plane got off I hoped I could find a Brown belt and finally poove their existence. After a grueling 18 hours it finally went down.  I was astonished to see that Peegypt was just like the pictures – brown as far as the eye could see – It was beautiful.

After a short sleep I B-lined it to a cab. I was finally on my way to the Ancient Sphincter. The site was marvelous and full of fartifacts. There was even an ancient skin flute! I picked it up, gave it a blow and the most beautiful note came out the end. Brown noise atmospherically flew through the airwaves and I gave a sigh of relief.

The sphincter itself was blocked by a guardrail as it has been since modern tourism began. Intuitively I reached beyond it, deep into the sphincter. I felt around and touched something stringy. I grasped and pulled out a ratty old Brown Belt! On my first day at the sphincter I solved the mystery and proved the existence of King Toot and the Boobarians of Peegypt!

– Fill in the Field, reporting his doody.

 
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Posted by on March 5, 2013 in Farticles, Fill in the Field