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"Percival will take you up river via Rectal Sluice 9 in the S.S. Frumunda Slurry. Go as far as Kwal Kahm City. The Acme readership will want you to speed things along and, well, frankly there's no way to be sure at this stage, but there's a pretty high probability that Kwal Kahm himself may be leading a low-vote attack slash damning comment invective against you. His mood tends to swing. Hence, the hostages. Be swift, Richard. And stay in the boat."
These were the last words Vonnegut had spoken before changing his name to Jeffords.
"Thank you, Jeffords."
"Jennings," he'd corrected, handing me a valise and rocketing toward the troposphere.
Later, up river, I sifted through the dossier on Kwal Kahm. West Hartford. Arm wrestler. Hitter of women and asians. Prolific. Prolific as Hell. Scranton was a fuckin' pipedream, man. Forget Scranton. Fuckin' A right. And here I was half way up shit river from the Guest Side of the site with my schvantz in my hand and nothing else but a goofy robot and the Cat-Shitting Cat. Balls. What was I gonna do when I got there?
I slowly pinched Viable Corn's Hershey's Kiss of a nipple while thinking it over. Kofi Annan gave me a disapproving look. "You'll get Felchberries if you do that," added Tunuktut. At which point Jibley rolled his eyes and tossed himself overboard.
I watched Darth Vader and Corky playing Pat-a-Cake for a bit and then turned my gaze to the brown, tumbling froth of the Slurry's wake.
POOP PART 4
POOP PART 6
Date Written: January 12, 2005
Author: Dick Vomit
Average Vote: 3.7143