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Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

What the turd-sweat (that’s when you break into a copious sweat because you’re holding back the mother of all shit-logs) is happening, all you polite mofos who’ve crawled across the ground as you made your way to the toilet because you can’t risk relaxing your sphincter, gasping and squealing like you were some shot-up grunt in an overly dramatic Vietnam movie, fighting back the demonic turtlehead that threatens to roar from your asshole like a goddamn battering ram intent on busting through your underwea—

HANG IN THERE, MOTHERFUCKER! No one cares if you ate a double-meat burrito with extra jalapenos and a side of ex-lax—DON’T GIVE UP! There is nothing—and I mean NOTHING—that feels better than making it to the finish line when your rebellious back-pussy is threatening to erupt! Orgasms, you say? Get the fuck out of here! That shit is weak sauce compared to making it to the…

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