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When Animals Attack #172

As if languishing in a nightmarish state of speechless consciousness at a Floridian hospital wasn’t bad enough, an elderly stroke victim saw his “rubber tree” get invaded by ants this past week. The hungry insects took strategic advantage of Charles Gogo’s catheter to chow on his groin, leaving it covered by angry red welts. Because Gogo was unable to alert anyone to the attack, he took it lying down until his wife stopped by to check on him. “I arranged the sheets and thought, Oh my goodness,” said Mrs. Gogo. “[He had] ant bites all over the groin, some on his chest, on his back.” Apparently, getting the hospital staff to care was no picnic. According to the Charlotte County, Florida, newspaper, the staff simply moved the hapless honeycock down the hall and said no more about the matter, failing even to alert Mrs. Gogo. Hospital spokesman Dan Weatherly refused to respond to allegations of neglect, citing patient confidentiality. “We can’t speak to any certain issue or patient here,” he said, pants ablaze. Meanwhile, karma has decided that Mr. Weatherly will have a heart attack as soon as it can train ravenous baby alligators to walk a catheter.

Fire in the Hole

In a literal case of something coming back to bite you in the ass, a Florida woman was accidentally shot in the left buttock when her 9mm handgun fell into the toilet. The woman purchased the weapon out of fear of robbery and had just recently wasted an afternoon attending firearm-safety classes. On the fateful day, the woman heard something outside her bathroom window, reached over the toilet to get a better look and knocked her piece into the bowl, where it discharged. Emergency medical technicians arrived on the scene and airlifted the hapless gun-toter’s tender tush to a Jacksonville-area hospital. To ensure that such personal tragedies never happen again, Jacksonville’s Armed Actors Millimeter Theater has mounted an educational production of Annie Shit Your Gun.

Hard Candy

This isn’t the first time we’ve mentioned rock dicks in TWIS. Why, hardly a week goes by when we don’t give Sting, Bono or some other preachy, mononymic rockosaur a nod. But this week, run-of-the-mill rock dicks are getting a reprieve, courtesy of one particularly prudish politician in Blackpool, England. Councilor Mary Smith wants to rid the popular seaside resort town of candy in the shape of penises, or “rock dick.” (A sugar-flour amalgam, formed into amusing shapes — known locally as rock — is as intrinsic to the British beachgoing experience as ineptly played paddleball and lite beer is to the American one.) Candy-store owners in Southport were furious after police ordered them to remove the rude sweets from public view. The manager of the Southport Rock Shop blubbed to a local rag: “Two male officers came in here and ordered me to take all the rock willies out of the window. They said the rock boobs could stay because they hadn’t received any complaints about them.” Removing yet another tray of slow-selling “rock knees” from the window display, the silver-haired candyman continued: “I am absolutely fuming. I can’t believe, with all the youth crime and shoplifting that goes on here, the police are choosing to spend their time worrying about rock willies.”

But Will It Stand Up in Court?

One hundred miles south of Blackpool lies the Welsh metropolis of Cardiff, where again a penis is being described by locals as sweet — this time, much to the chagrin of its owner. In another literal case of adding insult to injury, a male nurse has finally been cleared of a sex attack after admitting his penis is just one inch long. Unlucky John Webb, forty-nine, said he had not had sex for years because he was too embarrassed by his micropenis. The male victim of two indecent assaults had said that Webb’s manhood was indeed small, but guesstimated it was four inches long. Webb, of Pontypridd, South Wales, was cleared of the two charges after a sympathetic jury at Cardiff Crown Court was shown pictures of him naked. Patting his tiny alibi — the first time it had ever been of any real use to the Welshman — Webb confessed, “I am too embarrassed to show myself to another person.” By telling the entire world about his Braille-dimple dong, he guaranteed that no one will ever see him in the nude again. (We are so going to Hell.)

Oncology Recapitulates Debauchery

You’re a forty-year-old man. You’ve led a nice life: kids, house, wife, decent job as a schoolteacher and no skeletons in the closet. One day, you get up, put the coffee on, and realize you’re entertaining visions of Cub Scouts thowing you a private pinewood derby. Your wife throws you out and you’re hauled up on charges, convicted, and shipped off to Sexaholics Anonymous, only to be thrown out and jailed because you won’t stop asking your fellow fiends for sex. What went wrong?

According to neurologists Russell Swedlow and Jeffrey Burns, an egg-sized tumor at the back of the brain, that’s what. The middle-aged middle-school mack in question complained of problems with his equilibrium when he was jailed, and a subsequent MRI uncovered the above-mentioned tumor. After it was removed, Chemo the Clown successfully completed the SA program and tried to put his life back together, only to find himself once again hoarding mountains of kiddie porn that would have made Gary Glitter blush. Once the remnants of his reappearing tumor were removed, he again returned to normal. Baylor College of Medicine neurologist David Rosenfield suggested that further research should be done to determine whether damage to the orbifrontal cortex can be linked to pedophilia.



Additional research, puns, wordplay and double entendres supplied by Jim Jazwiecki.

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