© 2023 by Cedric Williams

(for part A of this story, click here)

Nineteen hours later, the Earl was face down on an operating table, having been rendered unconscious by a blow to the head with a cartoon mallet. Dr. Bittnov and his surgical team surrounded the Earl.

“Before I begin the procedure,” Bittnov was saying, “I must reiterate that this operation is a very delicate one. And by ‘delicate’ I do not mean to say the patient’s life is at stake; rather, I mean that even the slightest imperfection in the incision could result in the built-up fecal matter being expelled from the patient’s body with such force as to coat everyone and everything in the operating room with liquefied shit. So just…Yuck.”

[Note that the author did not resort to using the term “ASS-plosion”. Oh, wait. Now he did.]

Bittnov lived up to his reputation. He began by making the incision at precisely the optimal location, depth, and angle. Next he installed his proprietary hardware to transform the incision into a perfectly functioning bionic bunghole. When he was finished, the team gathered around and gazed admiringly at Bittnov’s handiwork. The anesthesiologist (who had given up on struggling to fit the mallet back into his pocket) perfectly summarized the feelings of the entire team, saying simply,

“Wow, what an asshole!”

The Earl was then propped up on a toilet, where he remained for a fartnight, slowly evacuating all that had accumulated within him.

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“I still contend that ferrets would be perfectly suitable as midwives,” said Reginald, Earl of Ductwork, now back at home and convalescing on his three-acre porch.

“Well, then,” replied Lord Aqueous Philbin, “you may no longer be full of shit, but I am certain you are off your rocker!”

The Earl was so taken aback by this statement that he fell right out of his rocking chair. At that, both gentlemen enjoyed a hearty laugh, and the subject of ferrets was left for another day.

THE “END”

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