NauseousYogurt

               Do you believe in businessmen? I didn’t either until one night in late February, much like this night. It was also like last night, and it will most likely turn out to be quite similar to the night that comes, say, four days from now. It was a spooky night, not unlike the rest of the nights of February, when I met the businessman.                I was on the way home on my daily walk (I go for a walk everyday) and I’d gotten a late start this time, so it was already dark. Suddenly… my phone rang. I reached for my pocket and pulled it out so I could answer. It was my flatmate, calling to ask if I was okay.                “Hey, you’re out really late,” he said. “So, I was calling to make sure you didn’t fall down a manhole or something like that.”        ...

Now that it’s been almost 94 years, I suppose it’s well past time to tell this story. Almost 94 years ago, I was on my deathbed at the ripe age of seven, with my left hand between my legs for one last tug at my winky. You see, unfortunately, I had spent the past six months or so dying from a degenerative muscle disease. I remember thinking “golly, I sure wish I had another 94 years of life in me,” and then it happened; I realized that my fingers were not grasping my dong, but as it turned out I had been vigorously rubbing a strangely tubular, synthetic object with a small hole in one end. Suddenly, out from this glorious little hole came a man. As this man looked at me, my eyes widened, and my jaw loosened. He was a translucent blue, and appeared to be levitating above my bed. The man turned round to take in his surroundings. As he did so, I got a clear look at his posterior. It was quite thicc. “Boy,” he shrieked gratefully, like the most thankful of banshees, “you have freed me....