As many of you know, our esteemed friend and partner-in-slime Circus lives in a dilapidated double-wide "prefabricated home" near the Jax Land Fill, a.k.a. the city dump. I'm providing this information primarily for newbies who have neither read the stories nor have met the man himself in person. His adventures with his cat Shitass, the black-toothed bag lady stalker, the Cardboard Inns of San jose and other epic incidents are the stuff of CRT legends. To call him unique is....well, grotesque understatement.
Anyhow, Circus just found out that the land fill has been reclassified by the EPA and will now receive toxic chemicals, nickle cadmium batteries, solvents, lead and other heavy metals.
I just talked at length with Circus. since the government has reclassified the dump next to his double-wide to catch toxics , Circus was celebrating by giving birth to a bowel baby as we chatted on the phone.
I couldn't hang up the phone. It was like a bad accident from which I couldn't avert my eyes. I heard every groan of cramped concentration as Circus tried desperately to purge his rectum of a breech turd made of anthracite coal. Horrifying. I'm surprised that I survived.
"It feels like I'm giving birth to a set of broken dishes," he moaned. "Just can't seem to launch this torpedo." Mixed metaphors aside, I felt his pain. The sounds grew nearly orgasmic in range and intensity as the biohazardous payload was finally expelled into the bowl, to be carried to his overflowing septic system and out into the field that will soon contain other toxins.
I understand that it just ain't right to have witnessed this, let alone to have written it down for posteriority, but I felt all of you should know the kind of bizarre individuals who in part populate CRT.
May your movements be smooth, my brothers... in every respect.