Metaphorical TWiT Review

Wholesome Shannon
Wholesome Shannon

Time to class up this website and give an unbiased review. No longer will Leo be the victim of hate. It’s now time for fairness and equality. I will be doing honest show reviews for the readers of this great site who deserve columns written with integrity.

Let me start with what is called a metaphor, bitches. I live in a big city and went out for Mexican cuisine with friends. The eatery was only a ten minute walk from my residence so I elected to travel home by foot after a lovely evening. I was only about three minutes away from my home destination when I realized I had made a serious error and should have taken a cab.

#TotalDrama writers flaccid!
Average #TotalDrama Writer Flaccid!

The Mexican meal was not happy where it lay and wanted out and wanted out fast. The food, awash in intestinal fluid, rushed through my colon on its way to a raucous ride through my small intestine where it was finally damned by my taut rectum. The pressure was great but I held my own. I prayed to God to let me get to my lobby and if the explosion were to happen there, so be it. I would take the mess in my pants up the solemn stairwell and into my apartment where I would discard the evidence and none would be the wiser.

I clenched my buttocks and every step was an epic battle. I made it to the lobby. But I grew brash and, feeling confident, I decided to take the elevator. Once inside the emergency status returned and my eyes began to water. I gathered every iota of strength and kept the rushing monsoon at bay. My face flushed with blood and my eyes were frozen wide open and unblinking as the elevator doors at last parted. The sanctum of my front door was in sight. I moved one cautious foot in front of the other and finally reached satisfaction just as I inserted the key into the door.

Are you serious?  Gross
Are you serious? Gross

God was kind to me. I only had 30 feet to get to my round porcelain goal. Victory was in my grasp as a smile could be seen on my face. Both feet passed the bathroom threshold, there I stood, my back to the flushable oasis I had dreamed of. I undid my bucklings and with one motion I slid my pants and undergarments to the floor. But I was too cocky. The combination of  bending down, which straightened my colon, and the release of tension when my pants fell to the floor was too much to overcome. It was everywhere.

The remnants of the explosion took hours to clean. Somehow the radius of the blast seemed to defy three separate laws of physics. The image of myself naked on my knees crying in my own feces with filthy rags is the metaphor for the October 19th episode of TWiT. I will give it 2 out of 5 stars.

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