copy pasta

Now, I'm sure many of you have encountered little shits in supermarkets. Little kids running about and knocking things over, being rude, walking all over their parents, you know the kind. But the worst are the biters. Yes, those little cunts that feel it is okay to bite you whenever they feel like it.
Okay , here's the best part. A biter got me today when I was grocery stopping. He broke the fucking skin, too. This was when the gears started turning, the moment I saw a tiny sprickle of blood on the little shit's teeth as he was grinning at me like the little cunt he is. I made my eyes get wide, and started screaming "SHIT! SHIT!." Now, my good friend, Tom we'll call him, was there too, and he instantly picked up on it. He started shouting "FUCK! MAYBE HE DIDN'T GET IT! FUCK!." By now, the kid is scared shitless and starts crying, and instantly, Mizz Mom appears out of nowhere and starts getting pissy at us for yelling at her kid.
Here's the kicker, I look her straight in the eye and say, "Mam, get your son tested as soon as possible, he just bit me and I'm... I'm FUCKING HIV POSITIVE."
And now there is silence. Not a peep in the entire store. The brat knows he just fucked up big time because his mom isn't defending his ass. She just stares at me wide eyed. I walk away from them, buy my shit from the wide eyed cashier, all the while blood is dripping from my calf, making a nice little trail on the floor. And, just s we leave, we start to hear the mother sobbing. Sobbing like the cunt she is.
I have never felt any more satisfaction than the moment I heard that sob.



Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels. Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round. I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theatre of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to:


M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc. Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A.

along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion. There can be only one.



Now this is a story all about how
My life got flipped,
Turned upside down
And I'll only take a minute,
This story ain't lame
I'll tell you how I came to be
With snakes on a plane.

In west Hawaii born and raised
On the bike trail is where I spent most of my days
Zoomin' 'round real fast
Feelin real cool
But I stopped for a minute and found some fool
He said there were a couple of guys that were up to no good
Started making trouble in my neighborhood
I saw Eddie Kim muderer him and Flynn got scared
And said "you'll testify in L.A. after a ride through the air"

I got on a plane which Flynn commandeered
I flew first class, the others moved to the rear
Then I thought my day was starting to look bright
But Eddie Kim fixed it so that I wasn't right.

He put about a thousand snakes in a crate
On a timer released to steal my fate.
The snakes got everywhere
It was quite far from sane
And that's how I came to be with
Snakes on a Plane.



To begin, this is a tale of how my very existence was twisted and transformed in a most peculiar way. Please have a seat, for I wish to take a moment to relate to you the fascinating odyssey which ultimately led to my reign as the Prince of Bel-Air.
I was sired and reared in West Philadelphia. As a lad, most of my time was spent at the neighborhood recreation center where I would laze about and relax in a most charming manner - that is, when I was not engaging my chums in a friendly game of basketball at the schoolhouse. Around this time, two young hooligans had begun to stage a campaign of vandalism and intimidation in my neighborhood. When my mother discovered I had had a bit of an altercation with the ruffians, she insisted I leave town at once and take up lodgings with my aunt and uncle in Bel-Air.
As the taxi approached, heeding my beckoning whistle, I could discern the word "FRESH" emblazoned upon its license plate, and took particular note of the pair of plush novelty dice which hung from the rear-view mirror. I was a bit taken aback by these strange omens, but quickly put them out of my mind as I cheerfully called to the driver: "To Bel-Air, my good man!"
We arrived safely in Bel-Air at dusk, and as the driver came to a stop in front of the house where I was to live, I left him with the words: "Farewell, sir. Perhaps my nostrils shall delight in your aroma once more!" To be sure, it was a long journey, and as I gazed upon my estate in all its splendor, I knew once and for all that my rightful place was on the throne - as the young scion of the great and mighty kingdom of Bel-Air!



Now this is the story all about how
my life got flipped, turned upside down,
and I'd like to take a minute
just you sit right there,
I'll tell you how I became the prince
of a town called Bel-Air.

In west Philadelphia, born and raised.
On the playground is where I spent most of my days.
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool,
and all shooting some b-ball outside of the school
when a couple of guys who were up to no good
started making trouble in my neighborhood.
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared and said
"You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air"

I whistled for a cab and when it came near
the license plate said 'Fresh' and had dice on the mirror.
If anything I could say that this cab was rare,
but I thought nah forget it, yo home to Bel-Air.

I pulled up to a house about seven or eight
and I yelled to the cabby "Yo homes, smell you later!"
Looked at my kingdom I was finally there;
to sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel-Air.



Omg hai ^___^ I’m Ai-san and I absolutely luuuv @_____@ anime <3 and my
fav is naurto!!! Okies so anyways, im going to tell you about the BEST
day of my life when I met my hot husband sasuke!! <333333333 OMFGZ HE
WAS SOOOOO FREAKIN KAWAII IN PERSON!!! Supa kawaii desu!!!!!!!!
^______________________________________^

When I walked onto Tokyo street =^____^=I looked up and
saw…SASUKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
<33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333!!!!
“ KONNICHIWA OMGZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ SUPA SUPA SUPA KAWAII SASUKE-SAMA!!!!!”
I yelled n____n then he turned chibi then un-chibi!!
he looked at me [O.O;;;;;;;;;;;] and then he saw how hot I am *___* he
grabbed my hand and winked ~_^ then pulled me behind a pocky shop o_o
and started to kiss me!!!!!! [OMG!!! HIS TOUNGE TASTED LIKE RAMEN!!!
RLY!! >.> <.< >.< *(^O^)* *(^O^)* *(^O^)*] then I saw some baka fat
bitch watching us and I could tell she was undressing him with her
eyes!!!!!!! [ -_____________-;;;;; OMG I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER!!!
(ò_ó) (ò_ó) (ò_ó)] so I yelled “UH UH BAKA NEKO THAT’S MY MAN WHY DON’T
YOU GO HOOK UP WITH NARUTO CAUSE SASUKE-SAMA LOVES ME!!! (ò_ó)” then
sasuke held me close =^____^= and said he would only ever love me and
kissed me again!!!!!!! ** (*O*)/ then we went to his apartment and
banged all night long and made 42 babies and they all became
ninjas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nyaaaaa!!! (^________<)
^_________________^;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;



hi every1 im new!!!!!!! *holds up spork* my name is katy but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol...as u can see im very random!!!! thats why i came here, 2 meet random ppl like me ^_^... im 13 years old (im mature 4 my age tho!!) i like 2 watch invader zim w/ my girlfreind (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it) its our favorite tv show!!! bcuz its SOOOO random!!!! shes random 2 of course but i want 2 meet more random ppl =) like they say the more the merrier!!!! lol...neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of commentses!!!!

DOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <--- me bein random again ^_^ hehe...toodles!!!!!

love and waffles,
*~t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m~*



hey 4chan!

I am new here but I thought I would kick things off with a lolcats
thread!

I guessed this wud be a good place to talk about lolcats coz they can be
so random just like this section of the forum is named, b random!

on this games forum i go on every day we have lolcat threads and it is
really LOL WORTHY lol (actually i got banned for posting so many, one of
the mods made one of the funny macros with the fat guy and a t shirt
saying "PUSSYS DONT KNOW ABOUT MY ..." and telling us to stick to just
one thread, STUFF U!

Anyways a mate of mine told me about this place and how you have loads
of lolcat jokes and post tons on a saturday. Your layout really sucks
btw i would have done a search or somethiun to find a good thread with
loads of lolcats but you have not search function.

Anyway, let the lolcat, thread, commence!



Hey /b/, I have a very serious problem. I'm fucking crying because of how stupid I am.

Okay, so my girlfriend was supposed to come over to my house today because I was going to go take her to a movie. She lives about 20 minutes away, and the movie we were supposed to see started at 4:15, which was in about 40 minutes. I figured "cool, I'll just play Pokemon while I wait".

So I'm playing Pokemon, and having a pretty damn good time. Anyway, she finally does show up, except she's crying as she walks into my room. Instead of doing the right thing by comforting her, I half-focus on my game and her. She starts telling me her cat died, and just as she was getting into it, I get into a random encounter in my game.

A shiny pidgey. Holy shit. (For those of you who don't know/care, shiny pokemon have less than a 1/1000 chance of appearing). I stare into my screen in amazement, yelling "holy shit, YES", interrupting her mid-story. She sobs more, and she starts to yell "You don't even fucking care! YOU JUST WANT TO PLAY YOUR FUCKING GAME!" I'm still looking at my screen, still focusing on catching my shiny pidgey, when she walks over, and tosses the game against the wall. I run over and pick up my DS hoping that nothing has changed on screen, and quickly noticed that she broke it. My system and my shiny pidgey, gone forever.

I start screaming every obscenity I know, and started flailing my arms around. I didn't know she was behind me, and apparently I backhanded her in the face while I was being a dumbass and swinging my fists around. She yells out "FUCK YOU", and runs out of my house in tears.

What have I done? I've fucked up so badly, and I need to know how to approach her. I don't want a game of Pokemon to be responsible for ruining my best relationship ever. Help me /b/.



FACT: NEWGROUNDS WAS FUNNY WHEN WE WERE ALL 12 LIVING IN THE SUBURBS LISTENING TO LINKIN PARK WATCHING DRAGONBALL Z DRINKING PEPSI WHILE PLAYING HALO CO-OP ON THE EASIEST SETTING DURING WHICH WE CONSUMED DORITOS AND LOOKED AT PAINTBALL GUNS ON EBAY IN INTERNET EXPLORER CONNECTED THROUGH AOL ON A 56K MODEM BEFORE HOPPING INTO OUR BALDING FATHERS' LATEST MIDLIFE-CRISIS-IMPULSE-SPONSORED JAPANESE-BUILT SUV TO HEAD TO THE MALL AND GET MORE SKATEBOARDING SHOES AND THIRD-RATE IRREGULAR LEVIS AND MOUNTAIN BIKE PARTS BEFORE HEADING HOME, VOTING DEMOCRAT AND MASTURBATING TO THE LATEST SEARS CATALOG WHILE HUFFING PAINT IN YOUR GARAGE BEFORE TALKING TO PEDOPHILES ON AIM PRETENDING TO BE WHATEVER CAMWHORE THEY'RE RANTING ABOUT ON MYSPACE WITH A MATRIX QUOTE/ANIME CHARACTER NAME/TRIPLE SIX-ASTERISK-PARENTHESES-SURROUNDED SCREENNAME BEFORE HEADING TO YOUR SUPPOSED "GOOD SCHOOL" IN THE MORNING TO BUY MORE POT TO SMOKE DURING YOUR COUNTER-STRIKE LAN PARTY WITH JIMMY AND THE REST OF HIS FRIENDS TAKING RITALIN AND ADDERALL AND PROZAC EIGHT TIMES A DAY BEFORE TAKING A CASUAL PASS AT LOCAL, STATE OR NATIONAL GOVERNMENTIAL FIGURES, LEGISLATURE, OR STRUCTURE TO APPEAR EDGY AND INTELLIGENT IN FRONT OF YOUR BUDWEISER-SNEAKING, LIMP-WRISTED, NEAR-TO-COLUMBINE SOCIOPATHIC "DEEP" FRIENDS WHO PLAY THE VICTIM WHEN THEY START LOSING ARGUEMENTS SIX DAYS BEFORE THEIR BOTCHED SUICIDE ATTEMPT SIMPLY BECAUSE SCHOOL TRAMP NUMBER TWELVE WOULDN'T GO UNDER THE BLEACHERS WITH THEM TO LET THEM GET TO SECOND BASE BEFORE THEIR THIRTEENTH BIRTHDAY.



I'll try to sum up a funny story that happened a few years ago:

I got a vasectomy.

I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking. Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company.

I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. Silly girl.

We date for a few months. I never made any move towards commitment but she brought it up ocassionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship. For her - as I was to find out - it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully.

Four months into dating, I get the "I'm pregnant" talk. She's going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married "for the baby". She's positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she's gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity.

At this point, I'm just as giddy. I get to pull the reverse "oops" on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up. Good thing I was using condoms! Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can't think beyond their own uteri.

So I wait a couple of days to "think about all this." I meet her again. I say I don't want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batshit insane on me. There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it.

Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I'm laughing hysterically.

It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy. First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a "negative test result for sperm" to show I'm sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner. Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I'm ready.

I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father. I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared.

She's all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly - or so she thinks. We talk about our future. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. "Are you sure that this baby is mine?"

Well, she goes batshit insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she's really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she's a slut. I'm just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities... blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I'm not really mad. I'm kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won't shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down. She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up. She thinks she has me trapped. She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper.

I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately.

I tell her simply, "You're screwed".

Her look doesn't change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared.

I continue. "I am sterile"

Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in. Naturally, she reverts to women's logic. "You're full of shit. You're trapped and you know it."

I hold up the letter and the test results. "Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm. Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine."

This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation. "Bullshit, those are fakes."

I was ready for that. "No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It's a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine."

I give the woman all the documents. She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake. With denial swept away, she started to cry. It's a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing.

I had no sympathy for her. I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing.

Epilogue -

I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met. I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. Silly me for thinking the best of American women.

The Moral of the Story -

Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.



My first sexual experience that actually involved nudity. While we're fondling each other, she asks me if I like Diet Coke.

Me: It's allright.
Girl: Well, I LOVE it. How 'bout you go get me a bottle of it?

I go downstairs and grab a 20 ounce bottle from the fridge. When I return, she says it's too cold.

Girl: How 'bout warming it up...by rubbing it on my tits?

So I began to rub her vigorously with the bottle. Soon enough, she asks me to shove it inside of her. She really enjoys it, and so do I because I KNOW that, with this girl, I'm definantly going to get off. That's when it gets crazy.

She rips out the bottle, opens it, and begins filling her vagina with Diet Coke. I swear, she nearly empties the volume into her vagina. I had seriously underestimated this vagina's liquid retention volume.

Girl: YOU LIKE DIET COKE?!?!?!? OH YEAH OH YEAH DRINK IT FROM ME!

I was noticebly freaked me, but I did want to get off, and I didn't want my first load-blow to be into 18.7 fluid ounces of a 0-calorie beverage. I began to go down on her, until she said the exact wrong thing.

Girl: OH YEAH, DRINK IT FROM ME! I'M THE KOOL-AID MAN! OH YEAH! OH YEAH!

I don't know how she did it with 16-year-old voice, but she sounded exactly like the Kool-Aid man from the commercials. I glanced at the wall, half-expecting him to burst through and over me a fruity beverage. I was extremely turned-off. She could tell, too. As she sat up to see what was wrong, she twisted her body in such a way that Diet Coke shot out of her vagina and all over my face, chest, and groin. And it was at that sticky, low-calorie moment that my parents chose to pull into the driveway.



Alright, /b/, I have a question for you. I’m a guy, and as of two days ago, I was a 24 year old virgin. I’m not so sure anymore. This isn’t copypasta…yet. I don’t care if you find my situation funny, but I really need some sort of answer, and you are the only one I can turn to.

So last night (Friday night) I went out drinking with some friends. By friends, I mean 3 co-workers who probably hate me and only said yes to me tagging along purely out of pity. I would be the loser who’s never even kissed a girl, only I did get that opportunity once and fucked it up by apologizing to her and then leaving. No real girlfriends, etc. Classic case you read about on this board.

Anyway, we went to this club that I’ve never been to before (I don’t really drink; it depresses me). In a vain attempt to be normal, I laughed at their shitty jokes and had a couple drinks. I could tell they wanted to ditch me or fuck with me or something, so after about 10 minutes I went over to the other side of the bar and sulked. I must have lost track of time; when I looked up at the clock, it had changed from 1:00 to 1:45, and my co-workers were gone. I didn’t have the intention of driving home, as I was going to take a cab, but I didn’t have the money; I had ordered more drinks than I had meant, and didn’t manage my money well. I thought to myself, ‘fuck it,’ and spend the rest of my money on a couple of shots.

I was always too embarrassed and shy to make a move on anyone, so I left the bar without talking to anybody. My co-workers were nowhere to be seen, and their cars were gone, so I was shit out of luck. I didn’t know how I was getting home that night, but I was too depressed at my lack of life to really be thinking of that at the moment.

I thought about calling my mother to pick me up and was too stupid to walk back into the bar and ask for a phone, so I walked a couple of blocks looking for a pay phone. There was this really shitty area in between me and a gas station that seemed deserted, but I walked through it anyway. As I passed an alley, I heard a guy say, “Hey, man, where are your friends, eh?” I saw his silhouette, but couldn’t make out his face. I didn’t answer him.

“Hey, man, I’m talking to you. I saw you in the bar with those other guys. They’re long gone, man.” He was talking really quiet, and had a sort of Mexican accent, like Cheech. “What, you need a cell? I got a cell if you need one.” Against my better judgment, I walked into the alley without saying anything.

“Yea, man, come here. I got it back here. I hang out back here. I got some pot back here if you want it.” The way he said that last part kind of freaked me out, like how a pedophile would advertise candy to a child, but I was already halfway through the alley, and he was walking beside me, so I didn’t stop.

We get to the end of the alley and the guy completely drops the act. He turns and hits me in the stomach and then throws my face against the wall. I’m no fighter, and my intoxication was no advantage to me. I was already done, but he kicked me in the chest a couple of times to keep me down. He goes for my back pocket and pulls out my wallet.

“Fucking poor motherfucker,” he said. “The fuck you down here for with no fucking money, man? What the fuck you got?” I wasn’t wearing any rings or watches or anything, but he picks me up and searches me. When he found I didn’t have anything, he turned me around and threw me up against the brick wall.

"You’re giving something to me, motherfucker,” he said, and he laughed a little. He grabbed my hands and held them against my back with one hand and started unzipping my pants with the other. I sobered up pretty fast and tried to fight back, but he just pushed up with his left hand and put a strain on my arms. I couldn’t do shit. I tried to kick him in the balls with one of my feet, but I missed and he slammed my head into the wall again.

Everything got quiet for a little bit, and I couldn’t really see. I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t think right. When I finally regained my senses enough to react to what was going on, he had my pants around my ankles and his right hand around my mouth.

He then proceeded to rape me. There were a lot of emotions and words and shit going on, but that’s the high and low of it, /b/: he raped me. And I didn’t enjoy it. I can’t say it was the worst experience I’ve ever had, but I sure as hell was not pleased. And it was not swift.

When he was done, he slammed my head against the wall one final time and ran off with my wallet. I must have spent about 30 minutes or so recuperating from the ordeal. I pulled my pants up and walked out of there. Not very well, mind you, but that was it. It was fucking over, and I felt changed, but not destroyed. It was a milestone in my life, and I just passed right by it and kept driving; I didn’t let it slow me down.

I went to a gas station and called my mom. It was 3:40 in the morning, and I said I got into a fight and the guy took my wallet, so I couldn’t pay for a cab. She picked me up and took me home. Yea, I live with my mom, still.

Saturday, the co-workers called my house and gave some fast, push-off bullshit: “Where’d you go, man? We looked for you but you were gone. Hope nothing happened.” The cocksuckers probably picked up some drunken bitch and took turns fucking her while I took a descent-sized dick up my ass.

I’ve been cleaning myself up all day. No one knows what happened but me and Cheech. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I decided to write about what happened to me (I write about emotions and shit to let them out like a fag). I’ve spent the last hour or so writing this, and one question keeps popping up in my head, and I can’t answer it for the life of me.

So my question to you, /b/, is, am I still a virgin?



I have a morning ritual that I need to share. I call it 'the terminator'. First I crouch down in the shower in the classic 'naked terminator traveling through time' pose. With my eyes closed I crouch there for a minute, visualizing either Arnold or the guy from the second movie (not the chick in the third one because that one sucked) and I start to hum the terminator theme. Then I slowly rise to a standing position and open my eyes. It helps me to proceed through my day as an emotionless, cyborg badass. The only problem is if the shower curtain sticks to my terminator leg. It ruins the fantasy.


The narrator then describes three unnerving incidents involving adolescent boys masturbating. First, he describes a boy inserting a carrot into his rectum to stimulate his prostate while masturbating, and then hiding the carrot in a pile of laundry. His mother later takes the laundry away and presumably discovers the lubricated carrot, but never mentions it to him. Next, the narrator describes a young boy inserting a thin stick of candle wax into his urethra to stimulate it while masturbating. The wax slips back into the boy's bladder, requiring surgery to remove it. Finally, the narrator describes an incident in which he sat on the water intake at the bottom of a swimming pool while masturbating. The suction caused his rectum and lower intestines to prolapse and become tangled in the filter, forcing the narrator to gnaw through his own innards in order to free himself and avoid drowning. The narrator's sister later becomes impregnated by semen deposited by the narrator in the pool, which results in her having an abortion.