You are Michael Mikeson, a news reporter. You feel very sweaty in your suit, so during the commercial break, you throw your suit off and lounge around in your boxer shorts. You figure that you'll be able to get dressed before the break is over. However, you lose track of time. After the break is over, the cameraman starts filming you in your boxer shorts.
"What's wrong with this picture?" he asks. "It looks like you're having fun."
The camera man continues to film you as you sit on the couch watching TV.
The news room cuts to Florida Man, holdin a skunk and claiming to have seen jesus in it's arsehole.
"I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like this," says the cameraman. "Is there any way we can get some pictures of you without showing too much?"
> You whip your penis out and say, "This just in, you're rocking out with your cock out.
"That's just great," you say, "that's all I need, people going around saying I'm fucking hard up."
You make a half-assed attempt to cover yourself with a cushion.
You phonecall from the news network executive arrives.
"Hello, this is Peter Wolf with News Network. Mr. Bond is currently in the middle of a crisis, can you hold him? Thanks."
you say "Ill be right there" and grab the skunk as you rush off to help Mr. Bond who is at the building and nothing else matters at this point.
You're at the building, and the smell has only gotten stronger. Eventually, you make it to the lobby to meet Mr. Bond.
> You are still wearing nothing but a couch cushion.
You run into the building, with the News Network crew following you. You head into the emergency operations center. The smell is unbearable in here. There's about 6 people in the room total, including Mr. Bond.
Mr Bond says, "Michael Mikeson thank you're here, we need your help with this stinky situation!"
A female voice from his left responds, "are you talking to me?"
Mr. Bond responds, "no, I'm talking about our dead body on the 14th floor!"
You look over.
You look over and see it is the body of Peter Wolf. You are highly suspicious that Mr Bond has somehow killed him.
"That's right," Mr. Bond says, "he developed some type of weird smell on my building, so I had him taken care of."
You say, "well, is it gone?"
Mr. Bond says, "I'm sorry to tell you, but it's here now. The smell is unmistakable."
You stare in horror at the 14th floor and it's waiting for you.
> You hold your nose and head to the 14th floor.
You walk towards the 14th floor. The smell is much worse up there. As you reach the door leading to the 14th floor, it opens by itself.
As you enter the floor, the smell worsens.
you bury your face in the skunk to help drown out the smell. As you walk down the hall you see a closed door with fluid seeping from beneath it. you lean down to smell the mysterious fluid and it reminds you of the smell that was coming from the toilet after you took a dump. You turn around and vomit on the floor.
You start to feel ill. You stagger down the hall and into a corner.
> You build enough courage to open the door. You see...
You open the door and step inside the room.
The room is dimly lit. You take a deep breath in an attempt to stifle your gag reflex. You see a man on his knees, his head bowed.
> You realize the man is Peter Wolf. He smells horrible. He looks at you and says, "Save me."
You realize who the man is and why this is all happening. You feel disgust, but also pity.
"Save me," he says in a fragile voice, "tell them I'm sorry."
You see an empty party platter from Chipolte and you realize that the stink is diarrhea from Peter Wolf and eating the whole tray by himself.
"I have no words," you say.
"Tell them I'm sorry," he repeats.
You just stare at him in disgust.
> You tickle the skunk's arsehole and summon Jesus.
He's been through hell and he needs some laughs. Because of this, you decide to perform the world's most dangerous fart in your mouth and into the skunk.
This is probably a really bad idea.
The skunk's entire body shakes with laughter. He even farts so hard he'd piss himself.
"Jesus Christ," he growls, "I'm dying of laughter. You're good at that."
The smell of your farts cancels out the smell of the man. You now have a headache, but you have a feeling you're going to feel a lot worse.
"So," he asks, "how long are you here for?
Virginia Wolf, Peter's Russian Wife who only married him for a US Green Card, walks in the room.
"You're not helping," she says.
The stench of her makes you want to vomit. You have no words.
"Fuck off, Yank bitch," Peter says.
The moral of the story: Never tickle a skunk's arsehole.