Need a good laugh this is funny!!!

[Trinity]

I went looking for some info. for a friend today, and came across this story it is hillarious!



Joe Gets Sick -
by Joethefat

It was a Tuesday night and I woke up to an annoying itch in the back of my throat. I rolled over and saw that it was damn near four in the morning. I decided to ignore the itch and go back to sleep since I had to be at work in a few hours. I tossed and turned for another twenty minutes and finally realized that I was not going to be able to fall asleep. I stumbled from my bed and into bathroom to investigate. I stood in front of the mirror and, after a minute of distraction brought on by the revelation that I am not a very good-looking person, I took a gander down my throat.

I couldn’t see anything even though I knew something was there. I could feel the object at the base of my throat. It felt like it was rising. After almost swallowing a small flashlight, I decided I was not going to find anything. I began to cough it up instead. I cough as hard as I can – violently almost. The mystery lodged in my throat rises. I feel some sort of liquid touch the top of my throat, which sends me into a coughing fit – Doc Holiday style. My mouth starts to fill with warm liquid. Then I taste it. Blood!

The first round of spitting thickly covered my sink with a dark layer of blood. Time seemed to freeze and I was filled with a stew of emotions, the ingredients of which were fear, shock, and astonishment. Another blood clot-induced cough racked my body before I could even ask myself, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ I just stared at my sink, now completely covered with blood, not knowing what to do next. I decide that I should wake my girlfriend. Now, my girlfriend is mean on a good day so you better be at death’s door if you plan on waking her up in the middle of the night. I took a look at the sink and then yelled out her name. It took a few hollers until she finally slumbered into the blood-caked bathroom. I assume words aren’t necessary so I don’t say anything at all.

She, howev

er, does speak. “That’s gross!” She exclaims as she disinterestedly turns toward the bed.

“Hey! Get the fuck in here!!”

She saunters back to the bathroom. “Why?”

I’m sure she meant it in a nice way.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you could help me??”

“You’re such a baby.”

“Yeah, well you’re fat. Now come help me.”

She takes another look down my throat to find the source of the bleeding.

“Jesus! Your entire mouth is covered with blood. It looks like you just got deep throated by Shaq.”

A real sweetheart, I know.

Crystal’s observation causes me to laugh, which cause me to cough, in turn causing what had to be at least six ounces of blood to spray out of my mouth. I don’t have to look up to realize what has just happened. The first thing I see is the blood-soaked wall behind us, except for a silhouette that is about the same size and shape as my girlfriend’s head. I had just spattered plasma all over her mug. The only thing I could think to say was, ‘It’s not that much’ all the while forgetting we were standing in front of a large bathroom mirror. My girlfriend caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and started freaking out. I don’t blame her, she looked like Carrie. While she was trying to clean up I noticed how strong of a stench the blood had.


“Man, do you smell that? My blood really stinks!”

She had not noticed the smell until I pointed it out. Apparently, the blood covering her face had acted as a distraction. She took one whiff and that’s when it happened. I saw the look. You know the one. The look right before hurling occurs. She stood up, looked right at me, and threw up. Everything seemed to slow down as I tried removing myself from the line of fire. I turned as quickly as I could. I felt like I was in the Matrix. With my back slammed up against the wall, I watched the vomit float by.

We returned to bed after Crystal finished cleaning my mess (You didn’t expect me to do it, did you?) and we both returned to bed. I know what you are thinking: ‘Why didn’t you go to the hospital?’ That’s because I hate hospitals. Every time I go to the hospital all they do is poke and stick me, yank my balls, and stick large phallic objects up my colon. Then the doc tells me nothing is wrong and dismisses me with instructions to return if the symptoms persist. No thanks. Besides, I was sure it would not happen again.

A few days later, I gave Crystal a ride to the community service center so she could do her penance for an arrest a few months back. The center was just a short distance from my office so I decided to wait for her there to minimize the driving time. I was surfing the web at my desk when I let out a healthy burp. . Instead of tasting the pizza I had eaten an hour before I tasted blood

“Oh shit!”

I knew what was coming, and unlike before I had little warning before my mouth started to fill with blood. I started to franticly look around for something to cough into. Nothing. If I didn’t find something soon it was going to be all over my desk as I had Peter North size mouthful.
.

I franticly looked around my office and the first thing I saw that would do the job was my bosses candy jar. His desk was right next to mine so I didn’t have far to go; the ceramic bowl was full of M&M’s, peanut I think. Not having anytime to waste I dumped them on the floor where they scattered all over the office. I let a huge cough and filled up half the bowl in one shot. I had had time to take one breath before another stream came pouring out, only most of this one missed the bowl and instead hit my arm. Just then I hear a crunch, looked up and saw my NCOIC staring in shock

“Are you okay?”

“Tip top, boss.”

“Why are there M&Ms all over the floor?”

(I stare back at him in silent awe.)

“I thought SSgt Jones’s candy dish would look more decorative if it was filled with my blood.”

He stood there for a second with a confused look on his face.

“Do you think you might be able to give me a ride to the hospital?”

When I arrived at the hospital I was convinced that a patient holding a candy jar full of his own blood would demand immediate attention. No. I walk up to the counter where I am greeted by a pair of indifferent eyes belonging to a female receptionist. Her glance lasted all of three seconds before she looked down. She slid some papers my way and told me to fill them out. I’m half way to the reception area when I decide to expedite the triage process. I let my mouth fill up with a little blood and, instead of spitting the contents into my candy jar, I walked back to the counter as if to ask a question. I let out a robust cough as I started talking and out flies projectile blood. This bitch looked like she just got hit with a paint ball. She didn’t even look at me. She just reached down and pressed some button and set of double doors flew open. A minute or so later, a few people are assisting me to a gurney and transporting me to a room. They assure me the doctor will be in shortly.

By shortly they meant damn near an hour. When the doctor did finally show up, she seemed kind of grossed out by my bowl o’ blood. She asked if I wanted to dispose of the bowl. To be honest, I didn’t really want to. I had become a little proud of it. It was somewhat like a battle scar. After a little argument ensued, I finally relinquished the bowl. The nurse took it and was about to dump it out, but the bitch dropped it instead. It looked liked someone had just given birth to in the middle of the exam room floor. It was quite possibly the most gruesome sight I have ever laid my eyes on. Some poor Mexican lady came into mop it up. I felt so bad for her that I tried to do it for her, yet she would hear nothing of it. She started yelling at me in Spanish. I’m not sure what she said, but it sounded like, ‘if your diseased-ass takes on more step my way I’ll shove this mop up your ass!’ I lay back down.

It was at this point that I remembered I was supposed to get Crystal from her community service. Obviously, I would not be able to make the drive so I called her to tell her that she would need to find a ride up to the hospital.

“Hey honey, I started coughing up blood again so I’m up at the E.R.”

“How the hell am I supposed to get home?”

“How are you supposed to get home? Did you hear what I just said??”

“Yes, I heard you Do you want me to come up there or something…. ?”

“Do I want……??? If you want to! Jesus!”

“Well, am I going to have to sit in the waiting room all day?”

“Wow! Does it bother you one bit that your boyfriend of six months is coughing up obscene amounts of blood?”

“Fine! I’ll get a ride up there.”

I just hung up.

Why is it that, no matter what you go into the hospital for, somebody wants to shove their hands up your ass? I mean, I’m coughing up blood – not shitting it out! I pleaded my case to the nurse, but she was steadfast in her quest to have my sphincter explored.

“Well, at least tell me the doc is not a guy.”

“Why don’t you want a guy?”

“Well, if someone is going to shove something up my ass I might as well try to enjoy it.”

She just laughed a little.

“You’re in luck. It’s a woman.”

“Thank God.”

She left, but only after glancing at me with a foreshadowing smirk.

A few minutes later “she” walked in.

“Please tell me you are not the one who is going in my ass.”

“Well, yes. I am just going to check and make sure there is no bleeding.”

“You know what, there isn’t. I already checked.”

“You checked?”

“Yup. I stuck two fingers up there. And nothing. All clean.”

She gives me a suspicious look.

“What? You don’t believe me? Here, smell my fingers.” I wiggle my digits in her direction.

After she was done laughing she says, “Well, just to be safe I am going to go ahead and give it a feel.”

“Why don’t you want me to do it?”

“Are you kidding! Look at your fingers, they look like Twinkies.”

“I’ll try and be gentle.”

“Yeah right! You know how many girls I said that to in high school? I still remember the looks on each of their faces. Gentle, my ass. No pun indented.”

I felt a little slap on my ass after she finished examining me. She apologized as though she had merely brushed up against it, but I am sure she did it on purpose.

The doctor suspected the bleeding was coming from my throat as a result of a severe case of tonsillitis I’d been diagnosed with just a week prior. He said they had to investigate and find the source of the bleeding, which meant I had to open up wide – real wide. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t open my mouth wide enough. I could tell the doc was getting frustrated, but there was nothing I could do. Instead, they did it for me. The doc calls in his nurse who proceeds to pry my mouth apart with her hands.

“Wider, please.”

“Agh mi jow”

“Wider.”

That’s when I heard a loud popping noise. I thought for sure this bitch had just broken my jaw. I slammed my mouth shut, nearly taking her fingers off in the process.

“You okay, Airman Joethefat?”

“Yeah, doc, I’m fine. Besides, if I ever need to deep throat a rhinoceros it shouldn’t be a problem now that I have a double-jointed jaw.”

“I guess we’ll just have to just scope him.”

“Wait! What the hell is that?”

“It’s a small camera that can be eased down your throat.”

I deadpanned, in the most sarcastic tone I could muster, “I don’t know, doc. I rather enjoy having you elbow my throat, but hey, it’s okay if you think we should go the small camera route.”

The camera they use to look down your throat is about as thick as a number two pencil, save the head, which is just a tad wider. After numbing my throat, the techs were able to slide the camera past my trachea – where the doc found nothing.

After all this torture, I eventually realized I had not heard from Crystal. I gave her a ring thinking that she might be in the waiting room. She was not. When she picked up I heard chatter as if she was with someone.

“Where are you at?”

“The liquor store.”

I would like to be able to convey the pain I felt upon hearing her say that, but words flounder in such seas so I will not. I will only say that, of the two evils (my girlfriend and medical status), whatever it was that was causing the bleeding was a lesser agony.

The next step was to go see a gastroenterologist or something like that. They are the doctors that deal with your ass, stomach, and intestines. When I got there I found out they were going to insert another camera inside me, but this particular device was going to investigate via a different route.

Just before the doctor slid the camera up my anus he said, “This my feel a little bit uncomfortable.”

“ Oh, don’t worry, doc. Ole Twinkie Fingers back there was elbow deep. It should be smooth sailing for you.”

He started to probe the camera through my ass and asked his nurse to turn on a T.V. that was located directly in front of me. It was a live shot of my insides.

“It makes a lot of people feel more comfortable if they can see what is going on,” the doctor explained.

“What! Doc, I don’t think watching someone rummage through my colon is going to make me feel any better. I’ve seen shitty T.V., but this is ridiculous!”

Not too much time had gone by before he reached the inside of my stomach and found the source of the bleeding. It turned out that I had two small ulcers festering in my stomach. Each ulcer was about half the size of a dime.

The diagnosis was upsetting, but I felt better knowing the problem stemmed from an identifiable source. I was prescribed medication and advised to stop drinking. I have not been able to stop drinking altogether, but I have cut down my intake quite a bit. Thanks to all the people at Wilford Hall that helped me out.

I apologize for being a consummate asshole, I told you that you would get your story.

 

[poptart]

Yeah, they call me Twinkie Fingers!!!!!!!!!!

 

[krisy]

Girlfriend sounds like a real catch!!!!