[Mister Saint]: 79.Contest Entries.Randomositismness

Warning: Some adult material here, including some off-color humor.

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          "Ah, I can't wait to get out of this desert!" I said to my compatriot, a rather brash camel whose smell was both unholy and magnificient in its particularly pungent power. The camel, who had yet to figure out what desert I was talking about, as well as how he'd managed to make his way to the sandbox at the local playground, answered me in plain English. I was shocked, I was stunned... a camel that speaks English! 
          The camel plainly said 'Awwuuuuuhhh," just before giving me a long-necked headbutt that sent me rolling facefirst down the legendary Slippy Slide of Convenient Placement. That, by the way, is an ass-whoopin' in any language. I tumbled end over end over end, like a fleshy triangle only with feet, before smashing through a rack of chain-link pantyhose and a bag of flour. I stood, groaning in irritation, and found to my endless dismay that someone had called the police to report the disturbance. I was arrested and taken into custody where, after a thorough interrogation and sponge bath, I was tossed unceremoniously in a cell. Needless to say, the gigantic lonely men seemed very interested in me.
          Two days and three monkeystomped cellmates later, I was given transfer papers. Someone didn't want me in his prison, it was obvious. Someone mean. Someone nasty. Someone... Democratic. Who else but a Democrat would throw an innocent camel-slapper in prison only to transfer him to a day spa two days later? Nevertheless, I was finished with that prison, and I gathered my few meager possessions - a pack of cigarettes, a chicken, and one-tenth my former dignity - into my pockets for the bus ride to the spa.
          As it turns out, my transfer took me to the very spa where I had met my wife. Actually, strike out 'met' and replace it with 'peeped on' and replace 'my' with 'everyone else's' and it'll be more accurate. Anyway, I went in there and planned my day. First I would get a pedicure and get those nasty children removed. Second, I would have my butt waxed... you know, gotta keep that sucker smooth. We definitely don't want any interest groups getting hair on their lips, you know. Then finally, I would drill a hole in the shower room wall and watch the women wash themselves, hopefully without being jacked up by a burly security guard again. If you've never felt the knuckles of a seven-footer crunching into your skull, it's definitely a treat the first time and you should do it. The second time... less pleasant. 
          So I started my day. At the pedicurist, I discovered that some foot-fetish freak wanted to trim my toenails, and I of course refused. What sort of god-fearing Republican lets someone else do work for him? Besides all of us, that is. I wasn't about to subject my piggies to this maniac's blade. So I trotted gamely off to the candle-shop, where I got my butt waxed for free by insinuating that the maternal figure in the shopkeeper's life was, in fact, wildly promiscuous, possibly even one who hooks for a rate of two cents.
          At last, I came to the end of my trek. Having smuggled a drill in my stomach while I was in prison (it wasn't hard. Being a huge ass hole is basically the same as having one) I carefully bored a hole in the shower room wall, and sat down for some good old fashioned voyeurism. I couldn't help but notice that the women seemed especially hairy and flat-chested on this particular day, but it didn't matter much to me. After all, I couldn't very well make another hole, and I was already sitting down. So what if these girls weren't attractive... even girls with male genitalia need watching. Those Adam's apples won't admire themselves, you know.
          So, my day was complete. I was free to go home, which I most certainly did! Only... to whose home I can't remember, which explains why this letter is coming to you from Gesundheit Uber-minimum security prison in Washington, D.C. We also call it the White House, and... sorry, the guys in suits are giving me that 'shower room' look again, so I have to go! Bye!