Two-Sentence Horror Story: These Colors DO Run

An internet troll asked the gamer girl, “What color is your thong today?” She answered, “Brown and yellow, with some tinges of red thrown in there.”

Toilet Humor

***TOILET HUMOR***

You could be running late to a lot of things: a meeting, your job, a date, a party, or school to name a few examples. But if you’re running late to the bathroom, you can bet your ass someone will make comedy out of it. Toilet humor for me is very hit or miss. On one hand, using words like “nasal jelly” and “penis pudding” will always get a laugh. That’s one thing. But if someone is just pissing, shitting, and farting for the hell of it, that’s not comedy, that’s disgusting. If I ever give a book or movie a low review score, it’s probably because the bathroom humor was hammed up to the extreme. “Throw the Damn Ball” is an animal poetry book that received two stars from me because they couldn’t resist talking about piss and shit in every other stanza. “Doggolescence” at least had the decency to keep it to a minimum.

I’m not completely opposed to bathroom humor provided it’s done correctly, a.k.a. the exact opposite of what WWE is known for, which is one of the many reasons I stopped watching it in 2018. Natalya Neidhart, a technical genius in the ring and a naturally beautiful woman, was given a farting gimmick in 2012 and she never recovered from that humiliation. The Authors of Pain, a tag team consisting of two colossal MMA heavyweights, were reduced to a joke after their manager Drake Maverick pissed his pants on live television (and thus they were nicknamed AOPeePee). In 2019, The Usos rubbed their version of Icy Hot all over the inside of The Revival’s wrestling shorts and effectively killed their momentum in the process.

It’s hard to take anybody seriously as a character when they’ve been humiliated by bathroom humor. Apply this logic to any one of your favorite stories. You think Tobias Kaya from “The Savior’s Champion” would have gotten the girl in the end if he was a perpetual farting machine? You think Charlie from “The Perks of Being a Wallfower” would even be allowed into his new social circle if he shit himself on a regular basis? You think Jonathan Quinn from “The Cleaner” would be an effective secret agent if he constantly wet himself? The answer to all of these questions is an emphatic hell no. Bathroom humor by itself isn’t funny, but it really destroys a story if handled in a heavy-handed way.

So why am I telling you all this? Because if I don’t, you’ll think of me as a hypocrite for wanting to write short stories called “The Scatomancer” and “The Uromancer”. Any story with “mancer” in the title is automatically going to have magical implications. Unfortunately in this case, it’s a shit wizard and a piss wizard I’m itching to write about. There’s no way in hell I can tell serious stories given the material I’m working with. They have to be presented as bathroom comedies right out of the gate. The wizards have to be self-aware as far as their magical powers go. Do you honestly think Diablo II: Lord of Destruction would have been a worldwide success if one of the boss enemies was called The Scatomancer? Do you think Final Fantasy VII would take off as a serious emotional story if the Materia allowed the user to practice Uromancy? Oh! What riveting stories! Cloud Strife suddenly has the ability to make Sephiroth piss his pants! What’s so exciting about that?!

But if you’re honest about what you’re selling and you’re self-aware of your gross-out humor, that’s one thing. Case in point, John Kricfalusi, the creator of Ren & Stimpy, although I hate using him as an example because of his predatory behavior towards minors. But if I may be allowed one small second to separate the art from the artist, Ren & Stimpy was a shining example of bathroom humor done correctly. The lysergic animation, the wacky facial expressions, and the daringness to go beyond the capabilities of a TV-Y7 rating: that’s what bathroom humor should be about. However, it sucks that John K is a pedophile and he should be punished for that. Ren & Stimpy could have been dubbed the greatest cartoon of all time and it still wouldn’t absolve him.

I’m not saying I’m an expert in perfecting toilet humor. I openly hate it whenever it’s done incorrectly. I hate the damage it could do to an otherwise beautiful story. But I’ll at least try to get it right when I eventually write “The Scatomancer” and “The Uromancer”. If anybody has tips for me in this regard, I’d be open to feedback. One person I will not take feedback from is Vince McMahon, the same guy who greenlit a colonoscopy segment in 2005 involving Jim Ross where he pulled various objects out of Mr. Ross’s ass before opening it up further with a jackhammer and the Jaws of Life. You know what else Vince McMahon greenlit? A drug testing segment on Smackdown where Jeff Hardy threw a cup of urine in Sheamus’s face. I don’t miss WWE at all. Yeah, I’m happy that Drew McIntyre is finally the WWE Champion, but it’ll take more than that to get me to return to my television set.

Pissing and shitting isn’t comedy. Farting isn’t a ratings booster. They’re natural bodily functions that have to be done behind a locked bathroom door. Repeat: a locked bathroom door. If you have layers on top of those bodily functions, that could count as comedy. But the acts themselves? Not even close to being funny. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!


***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

SECURITY GUARD: Your pants are awfully baggy. You got anything in there?

BAD SANTA: Yeah, my dick. You want to see it?

-Bad Santa-


***POST-SCRIPT***

See? Was that so hard? That’s an example of toilet humor done right!

Characters Going to the Bathroom

***CHARACTERS GOING TO THE BATHROOM***

When I was little enough to think that piss and shit were funny, I watched movies and TV shows with one burning question in mind: “Why don’t these characters ever go to the bathroom?” Or a more appropriate question for my age group would have been, “Why don’t these characters ever make pee-pee and doo-doo?” This question would continue to burn like an asshole after eating too many spicy wings, something I have too much experience with. It’s true, though, even after all these years of maturing (somewhat): characters never seem to have to go to the bathroom even after eating questionable food. You know why? Because nobody wants to see it, that’s why!

It’s like George Carlin once said: “I’ve never really understood it nor have I really cared for it.”

“I’m going to the bathroom to take a shit.”

“NEVER MIND! Do what you have to do in the bathroom and leave me out of it! And don’t describe it when you come back!”

“Boy, you should have seen it…”

“NEVER MIND!”

“It set off the smoke alarm.”

“NEVER MIND!”

If a character is going to make pee-pee and doo-doo, there better be a plot-related reason for it. Sure, constantly visiting the john would make for realistic storytelling, but not necessarily good storytelling. For instance, let’s say in my rewritten novel Beautiful Monster, Shelly had Windham shackled to her bed and suddenly had the urge to take a wee-wee tinkle. Let’s say she drank too many of her signature milkshakes, without the sedative drugs, of course. How exactly would her urinary needs be met in a way that moves the plot along quicker than her digestive system moves things along? Let’s say she relieves herself over Windham’s face like a Russian prostitute. Does this help the story? No, it doesn’t. Does it turn the reader off and not take Shelly seriously as a femme fatale? Absolutely!

I can only think of a handful of times where bathroom trips helped advance the story along without being disgusting as fuck (most of the time). Quentin Tarantino used bathroom trips as a plot device for Pulp Fiction at least three different times. Vincent had to go to the bathroom when he took Mia Wallace home, leaving her all alone to OD. Had he not gone to the bathroom, the overdosing could have been prevented and therefore, there’d be no infamous scene where Vincent stabs Mia in the chest with an adrenaline boost. Vincent also happens to be on the toilet when Butch goes back to his apartment to get his father’s watch. Had Vincent not been in the bathroom, he would have killed Butch and there’d be no infamous dungeon scene later on. And finally, Vincent goes to the bathroom during the restaurant robbery scene. Had he stayed at his table, he would have thwarted the robbery and Jules wouldn’t have his come to Jesus moment of clarity.

Another example of bathroom plot devices being used to full effect comes from Tales From the Hood. No, I’m not referring to any scene where Crazy K shits himself on the spinning table, because that never happened. I’m talking about the first story, which deals with racist cops. One of the cops urinates on a civil rights activist’s grave. Had he not done that, the zombie wouldn’t have risen from the grave to rip the cop in half and therefore, there’d be no comeuppance for the rest of the cops.

In short, the whole reason why you never see characters going to the bathroom at inconvenient times is because nobody wants to see it. Nobody wants to see Gimley from Lord of the Rings taking a massive dump nor do they want to smell it. Nobody wants to see WWE wrestlers have accidents in the ring, which has happened before, regrettably. Stone Cold Steve Austin once shit his trunks while getting body slammed by Yokozuna in a match in South Africa. Good thing his trunks were black.

Are you sick and tired of all of this middle school toilet humor? If so, you’ve just confirmed your own reason why you don’t want to see toilet breaks in movies and TV shows unless they serve a bigger purpose. Rarely does it serve that bigger purpose, though. If bathroom breaks were as random and haphazard as they were in real life, it would border on Deus Ex Machina storytelling and that’s a big no-no. Suppose Darth Vader had food poisoning at Taco Bell right before his light saber fight with Luke Skywalker in The Empire Strikes Back. If Vader went to the bathroom, Luke could get an easy kill and wouldn’t lose his hand nor learn that Vader is his father.

I feel disgusted for having written this blog entry, but it’s a topic that I’m sure was on everybody’s mind at some point in life, whether in middle school or adulthood. We’ve all thought it, but we’ve never actually dug deeper into the question. Maybe it’s best that we haven’t. Maybe this controversy should be put to bed once and for all. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***SONG DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

NURSE: Excuse me, doctor? Do you have a moment?

DOCTOR: A moment? What’s the question?

NURSE: More like a situation. A gentleman in exam three.

DOCTOR: What’s the problem?

NURSE: That is the problem: we’re not sure.

DOCTOR: Do you have the chart?

NURSE: Right here.

DOCTOR: Hmm…not much here, is there.

NURSE: No, doctor. No obvious physical trauma and vitals are stable.

DOCTOR: A name?

NURSE: No, sir.

DOCTOR: Did somebody drop him off? Maybe we can speak to them. Let’s get some background on this fellow.

NURSE: No ID. Nothing. He won’t speak to anyone.

DOCTOR: Well, let’s go and say hello.

PATIENT:…

DOCTOR: Good morning, I’m Doctor Lawson. How are you today?

PATIENT:…

DOCTOR: How are you today?

PATIENT:…

DOCTOR: Look son, you’re in a safe place. We want to help you in whatever way we can, but you need to talk to us. We can’t help you otherwise. So what happened? Tell me everything.

-“Lost Keys (Blame Hofmann)” by Tool-

Dumb Asses

VERSE 1

A drug zombie with his Johnson hanging out

A drunken loony shouting gibberish so loud

Giving hand jobs in exchange for change

With a hairy palm all covered with mange

Giving blow jobs with infected bloody gums

Now you’ve got rivers of pus in your cum

These are the characters you see at a bus station

Or out on the streets doing public masturbation

CHORUS 1

Dumb asses should be a priority

Locked up by the highest authority

Locked up in a room full of white

Straightjacket fitting oh so tight

VERSE 2

Laughing at nothing but the wall in front of him

Shouting conspiracy theories about the government

Smelling like shit and a pack of cigarettes

Jaywalking blindly where the streets intersect

Everyone’s walking just a little bit faster

While the acid trip is his psyche’s master

His hand goes up an unsuspecting woman’s skirt

He squeezes so hard that it starts to fucking hurt

CHORUS 2

Dumb asses should be a priority

Everywhere we go, they are the majority

Buses, ferries, and even taxi cabs

Walking ain’t crowded, but it’s sure a drag

VERSE 3

I’ll never go back to this city anymore

Except to listen to music so hardcore

Except to eat at the best restaurants

Except to hold signs in the biggest font

A love-hate relationship with the clown town

For every breath of fresh air, a stain that’s brown

For every sane guy, there’re a hundred freaks

For every bus trip, there’s the jerk of the week

COMBINED CHORUSES

Dumb asses should be a priority

Locked up by the highest authority

Locked up in a room full of white

Straightjacket fitting oh so tight

Dumb asses should be a priority

Everywhere we go, they are the majority

Buses, ferries, and even taxi cabs

Walking ain’t crowded, but it’s sure a drag

FINAL LINES

Dumb asses should be a priority X4

Dumb asses!

Toilet Cleaner

VERSE 1

The glass ceiling is lower than the floor

I earn my check, yet I always need more

Scrubbing your toilets spic and span

Not much of a future, not much of a plan

I could never be a real family man

Then again, how could I give a damn?

Power is something you’re born with

Every other talking point is bullshit

CHORUS

Toilet cleaner!

American dreamer!

Toilet cleaner!

Silent screamer!

VERSE 2

It’s not the smell that assaults my nose

It’s that my grave won’t earn one rose

It’s not the work that destroys my back

It’s being left behind in the corporate pack

It’s not the graffiti imprinted on the walls

It’s the thanklessness of scrubbing the stalls

Honey, I’m home! Oh wait, I’m alone

These slothful sins I shall never atone

EXTENDED CHORUS 1

Toilet cleaner!

American dreamer!

Toilet cleaner!

Silent screamer!

Bathroom bitch!

The new non-rich!

Restroom junkie!

Low-grade flunky!

BRIDGE

I drop the mop!

Say fuck it to the bucket!

I quit this shit!

I school these fools!

My path of wrath!

The edge of dredge!

Bow to the cash cow!

Never forever!

EXTENDED CHORUS 2

Master of my destiny!

Master of my enemies!

Slave to my deepest rage!

Beast inside a steel cage!

Toilet cleaner!

Megaphone screamer!

Bathroom bitch!

Pull the kill switch!

Shooting Star

Rachel Phoenix finally figured out why the structure she was climbing was called the Tower of Venom and it had little to do with the owner’s namesake. Even with a black veil over her nose and mouth, she still gagged and coughed at the fowl odor emanating from the barred windows. Feces, urine, vomit, and god knows what else assaulted her slender nose like a war hammer to the face. The heat waves from the oncoming shooting star in the sky baked this biological sludge like the ophidian tower was a gigantic oven. The elf rogue had no time to waste vomiting herself inside out. This mission had to be completed no matter how badly she wanted out.

Just a few more dry heaves in her ninja veil and a hell of a lot more tugs on her grappling hook and the winded elf in black rags rested on the top of the tower for a while. She could just drift off into dreamland no matter how horribly it reeked. In fact, this murderous odor would have been the perfect anesthesia if it hadn’t been for the raucous sound of a tornado fart echoing throughout the land. Rachel snapped out of her trance long enough to hold onto her rope with a death grip to avoid being blown off.

Once the literal shit storm subsided, Rachel couldn’t hold her lunch down any longer. She removed her veil spilled her guts off the side of the tower. The tidal wave of sickness left her light green skin pale and her muscles so weak that she could barely stand up. She was barely on her knees when she turned around and saw the source of the odor in its entirety. There he was: the ironclad dragon giant sitting on…a toilet. The Tower of Venom…was a giant fucking toilet…for a giant fucking man dragon.

Atlas Venom, as the giant was known, laughed so hard that he sent another gust of wind Rachel’s way. The tiny elf held onto her rope with the strength of someone ten times her size. Sickness or not, flying away in the barf-worthy breeze was an undignified way to die, especially when so many lives were at stake.

Once the giant’s obnoxious cackle ended, he leaned his rotten skull down to level with his intruder and asked, “Can I help you?” The elf rogue took the time she needed to catch her breath and settle her rumbling stomach. “Well?!” Atlas belted.

A few more heavy breaths later, the elf said, “My name is Rachel Phoenix. I’ve been sent here by the Order of the Forest to keep you from doing something incredibly stupid and potentially dangerous. Well, you do stupid shit all the time from what I’ve heard, but this is really going to get your attention.”

She pointed at the flaming star in the sky, which seemed to have grown tremendously since she last gazed upon it. “You see that? We all know you have the power to smash that thing to pieces. You’ve smashed everything else to pieces, why not a shooting star? But if you do that, neighboring villages will be affected by the blast radius.”

Atlas scratched his ass and belched a cloud of toxic sludge before standing to his full height and pulling his iron pants up. Rachel didn’t know what was more disgusting: the tower slash toilet or the fact that Atlas’s lesion-covered ding-a-ling had been hanging there this whole time. She tried to keep herself together by gently massaging her stomach.

“Listen, you dumb bitch,” burped Atlas. “I don’t hear you coming up with any great ideas on how to get rid of that thing. Last time I checked, I’ve got pubic lice bigger than you, so there’s no fucking chance you’re going to smash that thing away. If you’ve got any better ideas, then you’d better start flapping those gums or else you’re one dead little whore!”

Rachel folded her arms and said sternly, “Alright, if it’s ideas you want, it’s ideas you’ll get. If you have the power to smash a shooting star to pieces, you certainly have the power to catch one and drop it in the neighboring ocean behind you. You could break it up little by little and flush the pieces down that lovely toilet of yours. You could even have it as a snack if you wanted to. I’m sure whatever’s rotting in that gut of yours isn’t going to be too badly affected if you ate a giant flaming star.” She paced back and forth with her hand propped on her chin. “Let’s see, you can throw it in the sky and then break it up. You can…you know what? Literally anything else would be better than you scattering the pieces across the land with your reckless ways. Anything!”

Atlas gazed up at the shooting star and noticed that it grew once more. The scorching flames caused a few beads of sweat to trickle down his hairline. Rachel tapped her foot impatiently and said, “Well? We don’t have much time. What’s it going to be, big boy?” The remark caused the dragon giant to scoop her up in one hand and squeeze her already thin body into the width of a toothpick. No matter how pathetically she screamed or how many crunching sounds her body made, Atlas refused to take pity on her.

“Unlike all the filth swirling at the bottom of my tower,” he shouted. “I don’t give two shits about the other villages! They’re the ones who couldn’t accept me to begin with! They’re the bastards who laugh and throw stones at me whenever I show my face! You think my life is just one big fucking joke?! You think I choose to sit here on a giant fucking toilet?! That was the king’s idea! That’s what he calls comedy! I don’t feel one bit sorry for those pieces of dog shit! They’ll get what’s coming to them in short order!”

A tropical storm of sweat trickled down Rachel’s face as she felt the shooting star hurling closer to the tower. “Wait!” she squeaked, prompting Atlas to loosen his grip around her body. “If you put an end to this disaster, you just might be a hero to those people! Nobody would even think to treat a hero that way!”

“Hero?! You think these fucking people deserve a hero?!” roared Atlas while shaking Rachel in his fist. “Their idea of a hero is some rich snob who flaunts his money around without giving a drop of it to the poor! Apparently, those kind of fools work harder than the poor, or so I’m told! You, Rachel…you represent all of those people! All of those monsters! They don’t deserve shit!”

“I don’t represent anybody who casts judgment on others! I represent the innocent ones who will bear the brunt of your reckless ways!” squealed Rachel, who squirmed and struggled until at least her arms were free from Atlas’s grasp. “You’re painting my society with a broad brush, my friend! There are good and evil people from all walks of life! People should be evaluated as individuals, not as groups! If you’re too blind to see that, then you’re no different from the evil ones you claim are bullying you!”

Atlas peered up at the shooting star and then back at Rachel several times while contemplating everything the elf told him. The diminutive rogue took this time to catch her breath and collect her cracked bones. Even with sore ribs, she managed to burst out, “Hurry up and make your decision! That star’s getting closer!”

“You don’t have to rush me, you stupid bitch,” snarled Atlas. “I’ve already made up my mind.” His own eyes resembled shooting stars as they blinded Rachel with a hateful gaze. He could feel the elf quiver and vibrate in his massive lizard hand. He then grinned evilly at her and dropped her in the toilet. “Down you go with the rest of the shit!” he snapped before pulling the handle and watching her swirl.

Except the rogue didn’t swirl. She clung onto the side of the bowl with another grappling hook rope, the blades igniting little sparks as they struggled to keep her still. The swirling brown water dragged Rachel across the bowl while she kicked her legs and held on with a death grip around the rope. Adrenaline flowed even hotter through her veins when she heard Atlas laughing about this whole incident. She kicked harder and held on tighter. And then, the rope snapped like a twig and she was destined to spend eternity in a shit-covered hell.

As she swam through the toilet water whilst ignoring her injuries, she could hear Atlas’s monster laugh morph into a prolonged, “No!” followed by an explosion, a burst of fiery light, and crunching bones of his own. The Tower of Venom bottomed out from underneath Rachel and she went on a tidal wave ride throughout the land. She struggled to keep her head above the shitty current, but eventually sank beneath and swallowed the most vile substance ever to exist. Between heaving for oxygen and vomiting at the same time, Rachel’s lungs felt like she had swallowed the shooting star herself. The current jostled her around like a rag doll, giving her more bumps and bruises along the way. When she was ready to pass out, she landed with a thud.

Except that thud was cushioned by several bales of hay and the tidal wave of shit and piss had crashed upon the land below. Rachel coughed, gagged, and breathed heavily all in the span of a few seconds. Her ribcage ached as though someone fired a cannonball into her gut. Her legs couldn’t carry the weight of sickness and crumbled underneath her when she tried to stand. When she caught most of her breath back, she wiped the sludge away from her eyes and ears long enough to see what just happened.

Atlas’s gargantuan body laid strewn across a wheat field with the shooting star crumbled on top of his broken bones, shredded skin, and bloody organs. Instead of celebrating a staved off apocalypse, nearby farmers in overalls and straw hats laughed their asses off because of the literal shit storm that followed.

Rachel’s brows furrowed together and her teeth clamped down hard in anger despite the taste in her mouth. The villagers’ attitudes left a worst taste in her mouth than anything from the Tower of Venom ever could. Atlas had been right this whole time. The whole world did think he was a freak. While his mannerisms could have used some work, his spirit was in the right place. All of that mind-numbing, soul-crushing torment broke his heart like it would have someone a fraction of his size. Even the biggest and the baddest had feelings too, unlike the pigs who mocked his death.

Rachel slowly drew a knife from her sheath and jumped to her feet, her raging adrenaline allowing her to ignore the pain delving into her body. “Hey!” she shouted at the farmers, who now began trembling in fear and backing up carefully. Trembling herself (but for a different reason), Rachel angrily whispered, “If Atlas Venom was alive right now, he’d say…you’re welcome!”

The Media

VERSE 1

Caught on camera, a vicious beating

Made me throw up what I was eating

Made me blow a fuse just like dynamite

Your son’s heart beats booze and cyanide

Teach your child some real lessons

Not to use hate and fear as weapons

Not to blame others for his own undoing

Not to be surprised when parents are suing

CHORUS X2

It is not the media’s fault

That your son’s an ass and he got caught

VERSE 2

He laughs at suicide whenever it happens

Laughs at the mourners, calls them faggots

His ribs are broken from the many chuckles

His knees are shaking as they start to buckle

Let’s see him pick a fight with a true giant

Let’s see his lips quiver in the dead of silence

Let’s see his blood pressure hit the maximum

Piss a million gallons and call it going platinum

CHORUS X2

It is not the media’s fault

That your son’s an ass and he got caught

VERSE 3

In the end, he’s nothing but a coward

He thought he wielded the ultimate power

But all he got was a golden shower

His tight jockey shorts smell a little sour

All the bravado was for absolutely nothing

All the laughter never led to something

Now he’s got a spotlight burning so bright

He’s shitting himself from the stage fright

CHORUS

It is not the media’s fault

That your son’s an ass and he got caught

It is not the victim’s fault

That your son’s another brick in the wall

It is not the judge’s fault

That his dad has lost his balls

Blame yourself and no one else

Blame yourself for building your own hell

FINAL LINE X4

It is not the media’s fault!

Everything You Touch

CHORUS 1

Everything you touch turns to piss

Your ignorance is far from bliss

Your hate language is a goodbye kiss

Why should we put up with any of this?

VERSE 1

A frog in one hand, your dick in the other

Pissing all over your human race brothers

You’d sell out your own goddamn mother

To see your face on a memoir book cover

You’d sell your soul for a million dollars

You traded your mind for a tight dog collar

You bought into a world built solely on lies

Now you think you’re Jesus Christ in disguise

CHORUS 2

Everything you touch turns to shit

Every slap in the face is a knockout hit

Every kiss to your loved ones turned to spit

Calling you out will send you into a fit

VERSE 2

Go ahead and try to cut through the human chain

You’re the architect and author of your own pain

Every protest sign you’ve written to yourself

You’re the engineer and CEO of your own hell

For someone who preaches such insensitivity

You sure feel agony until the end of infinity

You say one thing then you do something different

You’re the warden and guard of your own prison

CHORUS 3

Everything you touch turns to vomit

You laugh it off like a standup comic

The only joke I see is your political career

We’re shutting down your campaign of smears

VERSE 3

Enjoy your life as a D+ player

Enjoy your career as a spiteful hater

Enjoy your dreams never coming true

This has never been your red, white, and blue

If you’re so dangerous, put up your dukes

If you’re so inspiring, don’t make us puke

If you’re so noble, put up or shut up

Until then, you’re a troll who’s fucked up

FINAL LINE

Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out!

"Oink" by Matt Whyman

If you thought big ol’ piggy pies were cute and cuddly, try having mini-pigs! Little fun size babies you can hold in the palm of your hand! Actually, as author Matt Whyman will tell you, his two latest runts, Butch and Roxy, are literally and figuratively a handful. Matt already has four children, a wife, a cat, some chickens, and a puppy-duppy. What the hell, why not throw two little oinker babies into the mix? Of all the animals Matt Whyman has, including the humans, Butch and Roxy were easily the rowdiest of the bunch and therefore gave him the most fits. Want to know all the things mini-oinkers are capable of? How about leaving a warm yellow puddle of piss over Matt’s feet while he’s trying to write children’s stories? Or maybe they can chew on the controller and wires for his Playstation One. Or if you really want a reason to get the blood boiling, how about ripping up the neighbor’s yard during an attempted robbery? The thing is, the piggy pies actually did more damage than the actual burglars. And the neighbor? He’s never in a good mood, so one could only imagine the kind of trouble Matt would be in once he came home. Despite all of these incidents that would normally give Matt Whyman a heart attack, he goes through a progression throughout the memoir where he learns to enjoy the controlled chaos and that all members of his family keep the unit together. In other words, “Oink” is every bit as heartwarming as it is silly and giggly. It actually reads like a novel and follows the formula very well despite the fact that it’s clearly nonfiction. When you read through it, you have no reason to believe that his storybook ending could be anything but nonfiction. He’s not just a celebrity who writes one book about his life with the help of a ghostwriter. Matt Whyman is a veteran author. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he puts pen to paper. He controls the pace, he writes in a giggly tone, and he’s got a great vocabulary. If those three things aren’t enough reason to buy this book, then at least buy it for the cute and cuddly mini-oinkers! AWW!!

　

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Sir, I don’t think ‘piss like a dog’ is a real expression. It’s ‘piss like a racehorse‘. How exactly do you piss like a dog? Do you lift one leg and do it over a fire hydrant?”

-Brad Loekle-