Anus-Potboiler Badsmell Inhaler

When I was a boy I loved the feeling I got when my anus puckered and began to boil like a pot of chili. I used to make things called "smoke tents" by getting all the blankets and sheets in my house and basically making a large dome. Then I'd sit in there and eat bricks of cheese and hot piles of beans. Then I'd wait for my first anus-potboiler. Then another. And before I knew it, I was bathing in an ocean of my own badsmell. When I inhaled enough, I began to hear a deep and powerful voice. It introduced itself as Kinglord Brownsmoke Torkington.

More recently, I constructed an outfit from old car tires so I could suck the air from my anus potboilers and become closer with Kinglord Brownsmoke. I told my young son, Hen that I couldn't come to his school play because I would be too busy huffing my brown-fog.

My wife told me to come to my son's baseball game later on but I said I was busy getting a lungfull of dark-wisp. She said that if I didn't come, she'd stop paying all of the bills and rent. So I decided to come to the baseball game. I just sat under the bleachers breathing as deeply as I could as I made loud screaming prayers to Kinglord Brownsmoke. Some of the little league parents began to cry and others got mad. Some called the bluesuit police.

So I ran away into the forest over behind the elementary. Right now, as we speak, I am hiding in a bunch of blackberry bushes scribbling this note with a old back-exit log and a couple of leafs. I think I will try to make a home here among the forest beasts. Perhaps we can create a kingdom of anus potboilers and we can revel in the all-knowing hotsmells of eachother's brown-caverns. And we can sing together in unison as we praise his sweet-savior Kinglord Brownsmoke Torkington.

My only other wish is that my wife and my son stop bothering me to go to stupid things like PTA meetings and sportball cheer-days. I hate all fresh-air breathers and I want to live a life by the code of Kinglords' "hot-smell rip-rear" sermon.