He’s alive! He’s alive!
Dave went into his coma on Sunday afternoon. Very early this morning he woke, complaining that his balls felt swollen and when the nurse looked they were like two enormous coconuts wrapped in a strangely pink coloured shiny plastic as his scrotum stretched with their size.
She immediately called a doctor who said ‘Goodness gracious me’ and then immediately called for a consultant. He arrived very quickly as consultants in our health service really earn the big salaries they’re paid by being available no matter what time of the day or night it is.
‘Holy crap’, he said when examing Dave’s goolies and immediately went online to Google ‘enormous balls’. After he’d had his fill of gay mutant porn he returned to tell us that there was nothing to worry about. Somehow the toxic shock syndrome had caused another ailment called ‘Massive Bollocks Sydrome’ which should go down in a few days when he passes the fabric of the tampons in his stools.
In fact, in order to speed that up the doctors told the nurse to give him an enema in case there were any bits stuck in his passageway. It seems to have done the trick.
“How’re you feeling?”, I asked him as it was my shift on the bedside vigil.
“Been better”, he said. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I don’t remember anything beyond last Friday, when I went to the cinema to see Transformers. After that it’s all a blank. I have hazy snippets of stuff. I was dreaming I was in Northern Ireland and a load of protestants were after me and I had a gun but it was empty so I tried to shit out some plastic bullets, but that’s it.”
“Crazy dreams”, I said. “And you don’t remember being in Ron’s and eating a load of tampons?”
“Why would I eat tampons?”
“We tried to stop you, Dave, but you insisted. Said you’d give me €50 for each one you crapped out again with its wrapper still on.”
“That sounds like me all right.”
“We were saying ‘No, don’t do it. What if you get toxic shock syndrome?’, and that’s exactly what happened. You’ve been in a coma since Sunday.”
“Fucking hell. And how many did I manage to shit out?”
“Eight.”
“Wow. That’s €400 I owe you. I’ll sort you when I get out of here.”
“Look man, don’t worry about it. €400 is a lot.”
“No, a bet’s a bet. I insist.”
“Well, look. How about €200 and we’ll call it quits? You’ve been very sick an’ all an’ anyway.”
“Ahh, Twenty”, he said taking a sip from his glass of Bols Advocaat, “you’re a good pal.”
September 19th, 2007 at 9:45 am
Any photos of these enormous balls?
Curious is all.
September 19th, 2007 at 9:49 am
“Ahh, Twenty”, he said taking a sip from his glass of Bols Advocaat, “you’re a good pal.”
Poor Dave…
September 19th, 2007 at 10:19 am
Twenty, you surely could have fleeced him there. Good on you you didn’t
September 19th, 2007 at 10:22 am
Be prepared for the care Dave is going to need after he leaves the hospital.
It’ll be a difficult period for you both.
September 19th, 2007 at 10:28 am
Touching, and you must really love him of you didn’t completely shake him down. Not like you atallatall. Tell me, was he in an actual hospital or did the rent a room for him in a near by hotel? Seeing as how the consultant was so swift it would make more sense they were in a hotel. That way the highly paid consultant could come down from his pent house suite where the orgy was in full swing, see Dave, collect yet more money and return to the orgy without taking of his Italian shoes.
September 19th, 2007 at 10:46 am
And the moral of this story is that Twenty is a twisting feckker!
September 19th, 2007 at 10:48 am
Public ward, St James’s, FMC.
The fucking good drugs you can score in there. Got me a lovely big bag of grass off the brother of a bloke who got trapped under a bus which crushed his pelvis.
September 19th, 2007 at 10:48 am
And the only care Dave will need is to keep him away from tampons. The doctor said they’re more addictive than crack.
At least I think that’s what he said.
September 19th, 2007 at 11:31 am
I don’t know why but for some reason “Bols Advocaat” puts me in mind of Michael McDowell. Is it his pen name?
Btw, Dave will probably mistake Twirls for tampons so keep an eye on him. And for semantic reasons keep him away from crampons as well.
September 19th, 2007 at 11:40 am
Bols to That
September 19th, 2007 at 1:47 pm
I’ll tell who’s not alive, that homeless bloke in Limerick that got thrown in the back of a garbage disposal truck.
September 19th, 2007 at 2:01 pm
I think the lorry driver had a crush on him.
September 19th, 2007 at 2:38 pm
Allegedly!!!!!!
September 19th, 2007 at 4:18 pm
I think the lorry driver had a crush on him.
:D
September 19th, 2007 at 5:02 pm
Look I can appreciate the swollen scrotum humour, & Dave’s dream about shooting people with his arse, but I am just at a little bit of a loss as to how an enema could ‘do the trick,’ with half a dozen tampons stuck up his clacker?
Especially with super dooper tampons, because you could take out a polar cap with half a dozen o them – in theory Dave should be like a shrivelled up prune man(with vast abdominal bloating, that is).
September 19th, 2007 at 7:40 pm
what happened to the shat tampons? They were re-cycleable right?
September 19th, 2007 at 10:21 pm
Karma is gonna bite you HARD in the ass, Twenty.
September 20th, 2007 at 5:30 pm
Is Karma that indian hoor from grafton street? If it is how much will she charge to bite me micky?