Friday, July 13, 2012

Local Man Prefers Single Stuffed

If there's one thing the human race knows how to do, it's stuff.  Bodies into trunks, wieners into butts and other assorted stuffings into various stuff-holes.  Perhaps the most recognizable example is the white stuff wedged in between those brown cookie-like crisps.  You know the ones.

 Yup, gotta love those unnamed cookies.

Recently the folks over at wherever the fuck decided to cram a little extra stuff in between those chocolate cheeks.  This was a response to consumers' unrelenting praise of the mysterious stuff.  Though no one is quite sure what stuff goes into making the stuff, a majority of stuffers are quite content with stuffing as much stuff as they possibly can into their, you guessed it, stuff canals.

While many have probed and prodded the bulbous and irritated flesh pocket of secrecy surrounding the stuff's ingredients, none have been able to burst it wide open and suck down the true pus-coated stuff chunks.  Bone marrow, common classroom glue or ground-up testicles of Marshmallow Men are just a few of the theories circulating in stuff-related forums on such websites as, and  One relentless blogger insists that the stuff is actually, in fact, just plain old regular Stuf. 

Also, he keeps sending us stuff like this, but like...way weirder.

For those of you dimwitted dinguses who don't know what Stuf is, let us explain using terms you may be able to understand.  Stuf is a type of stuff that is stuffed where stuffing is needed.  It is not made out of different stuff, but is simply created in Stuf's likeness and forever exists as Stuf.  Get it?  You don't?  Well get stuffed, you cockstuffing motherstuffer.

"I just love the stuff," said one stuffed man, Steven Stuffwad, when we asked him for his thoughts on stuff.  "You could say I love all stuff, but this specific stuff is especially great.  Actually, I don't really know what this particular stuff is, but it's just SO STUFFIN' GOOD.  Honestly, have you ever had stuff this god damn excellent before?  FUCK!  Where can I get more of this stuff?"  Of over 500 interviews conducted, nearly all of them mimic Stuffwad's response word for word.

One man, however, is not so pleased with the sudden upping of stuffage.  "Double stuff?" screamed an enraged Sam Stuffington at his own crotch and stuff.  "What the hell do I want twice the amount of stuff for?  I've already got enough stuff.  Shit, I probably have more stuff than I know what to do with.  What's next?  Triple stuffed?  Quadruple?  For stuff's sake, where does it all end?  If you people have it your way I'll be stuffed full of stuff before the end of the stuff...I mean month."

We have to shit.

It wasn't long before Stuffington's wife began nagging him to clean out a pile of stuff in the garage, move the holiday stuff to the attic and pick up some stuff from the dry cleaners.  Shortly thereafter, our entire writing stuff committed suicide.

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