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I had an enjoyable time at the noder meet this past weekend entitled "Rug Munchings in the Klondike," which was in Utica this year for unstated reasons (i.e., not Klondike related). It was a fairly lame time and I saw no rug munching at all. No one went near the floor. Everyone was in the hot tub, bobbing their heads down under the water and coming up again smiling like they found some pirate treasure down there. Did you get the tinklings of an early erection reading about that? I hope so *wink* (Gary Cooper style).

I got hard as a freaking rock in the middle of dinner due to the boobs that Noder Riley was waving around in everyone's faces. She had pasties. Things got hectic after that.

When friend Behr went to the bathroom, there was a line. I wear extremely thin material pants all the time. If I am walking towards you on a sunny day, you can basically see through them. I am talking about extremely, extremely thin slacks. They're great. I also don't wear underwear. This is a personal choice I expect you to respect. I got all your addresses off the E2 Registry and I know (1) Where you live, (2) Family members, (3) Immigration status. Don't push me. I have gum on my shoe. Why don't you be a good obedient noder pet and lick this gum off Mr. Friend Behr's shoe. Mmm, you like that don't you. Don't you? Did you get an inkling of a woody there? I bet you did, you naughty little noder pet.

So there I was, Captain Morgan flying at three-quarters mast, waiting on this line and my anus begins to tremble just a little bit, like Mick Jagger's lips during a live show, flapping away like the vagina of your wife and/or girlfriend because she's giving it to ALL the neighbors (including old Mr. Crane) when you are at work bringing home the bacon. There is a lincoln log beginning to turtle in my highly sensitive anus, which was seriously abused by a series of hairless creatures in my youth. This is going to come out. I tell them I cannot wait and this freaky looking noder dude named Arthur says, in this whiny nerd voice, "Noooo, you have to go outside to poop. They only have a pail in here."

This was very offensive to me. A pail? What kind of noder meet was this? Were these a band of liberals who hadn't been put in the camps yet? It was being held in a church in Utica, for crissakes. I couldn't wait and I turned to run, but what had started to turtle now pushed its head out through highly sensitive, animal-abused anal passageway and all the way out. This was an eighteen inch boa constrictor that felt very moist, very sweaty, and very hairy as it moved down around my leg, coiling as it did, around my severely scarred up thighs and legs (and I'm not joking about the "severely"). The nerdy noders with their useless, meaningless, non-businessman lives didn't seem to notice, but then it exited.

For a moment I thought it might be one of the very many creatures my adoptive father would gently shave and roughly shove up young friend Behr's ass, starting with the titmouse and moving up as far as a live raccoon and the murderous hairless ass weasel. His crowing achievement was a Canadian brown bear. That was an experience I like to imagine I will one day not be able to remember. So, you can understand why my anal passageways are very tender to this day. He had begun experiments on forcing a parrot into my pee hole in my sizable, wrinkly, gray, old man cock when word came that the Russians were approaching Berlin and the Americans were coming up behind. I was whipped, my butt cheeks severely, and I mean severely bitten at by rodents of enormous size, and I was hit in the head with a giant black penis the size of the South Side of Chicago (give or take a few blocks). I became enraged. I was injected with many, many fluids (and I'm not kidding when I say "many"). My own sizable cock stiffened. My thunderously big balls (at that point not yet torn apart by my various experiments with drawing faces on them with an X-Acto knife) tightened. And I began to turn into the legendary Bear of Berlin, a fifty foot tall polar bear with the face of my adoptive father's friend "The Four" (who was one small man with a Groucho Marx moustache and not four people) with a blank, dead stare and I was angry and stormed towards the Russians and wiped out half of the Red Army before they overwhelmed the city. Boy was I hard, but then I shrunk back to normal size and would go on to volunteer to patrol my favorite place in the whole world, the Berlin Wall until I was old enough to join the Stasi.

It turned out not to be that at all. This was an unrelated matter, so you can go back and un-read that. It was a human turd and it was apparently alive. It moved towards the noders hungry to eat their unholy stink. It was hammer time.

My friends.

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