I always want to know how life can continue after the carrot has grown to a certain extent. When the police interrogated Chris, my hands trembled so much that I couldn't even smoke. Attach the allusion of carrots. ========== The trembling dividing line ============== [Intestines] by Chuck Paranuuk inhales. Inhale as much air as you can. This story should be about as long as you can hold your breath, and then grow a little bit longer. So listen as soon as possible. A friend of mine heard the so-called "insertion in the back court" when he was thirteen years old. It was a dildo inserted in the asshole. It is said that as long as the prostate is stimulated enough, you can have a burst orgasm without using your hands. At that age, this friend was a bit of a porno. He is always looking for a better way to vent than others. He went to buy a carrot and a bottle of petroleum jelly. Used to do a small private research. Then he thought of what it would be like in front of the supermarket checkout counter: The carrot and a bottle of lubricant rolled on the transfer belt to the cashier all alone, all the customers waiting in line to pay are in sight. Everyone knows his big plan tonight. So, my friend, he bought milk, eggs, sugar and a carrot, which are all ingredients for carrot cake. Plus a bottle of Vaseline. It seemed like he was going home and stuffing a carrot cake into his asshole. When he got home, he cut the carrot into a short stick, smeared it with grease, and sat down slowly. Then-there is nothing. No orgasm, nothing but pain. Then this kid, his mother yelled that it was dinner. She said to come downstairs, right away. He tried to pull out the carrot and wrapped the slippery and dirty thing in the dirty clothes under his bed. After dinner, he went to look for the carrot and found that the toy was gone. While he was eating dinner, his mother took all his dirty clothes and washed them. She couldn't fail to find that carrot that had been carefully trimmed with her kitchen paring knife was shiny with lubricating oil and had a smell. My friend waited for months under the dark cloud, waiting for his parents to scold him. But they never moved, nothing at all. Even though he has grown up now, the invisible carrot is still hanging in the air, spending every Christmas dinner and every birthday party. Every time he and his children, that is, his parents’ grandchildren and granddaughters, were hunting for easter eggs at Easter, the ghostly carrot still hangs on all of them. That kind of thing is terrible beyond words. The French have a saying: "Aura on the stairs." French is: Esprit d'Escalier. That means the moment you find the answer, but it's too late. For example, you go to a party and someone insults you. You have to speak back. As a result, under pressure, everyone is staring at you, and you can only falter. But as soon as you leave there... As soon as you go down the stairs—like magic, you think of the best things you can say. The words that can best refute the other party. This is the so-called aura on the stairs. The problem is that even the French have no words to describe the silly things you really do under pressure. Those stupid and desperate things that you really think of or do. Some things are so low-level that they can’t even be said. Looking back, child psychologists and school counselors now say that the last peak of adolescent suicide was when children suffocated themselves while masturbating. When the parents found them, the child was wrapped in a towel around his neck, and the towel was tied to a rail in their bedroom closet. The child died and dried semen was everywhere. Of course parents will clean up and put on pants for their children to make things look... better. At least that means. The sad teenage suicide situation. Another friend of mine, also my classmate, his brother served in the navy, said that Middle Easterners are different from ours. This brother is stationed in several countries where there are camels, and the market there sells something that looks like a fancy letter opener. Each of these fancy tools is just a very thin and sharply polished copper or silver rod, about the same length as your palm, with a big head at one end, or a big metal ball, or a sword hilt. The handle bends like. This elder brother in the navy said that after the Arab men had hardened their second child, they inserted this thin metal rod into the second child, and stuck it all the way to the end, and then took the rod inside to hit the pistol. The orgasm is more enjoyable and more intense. It's the French slang and Russian slang sent back by the big brother who has been to all parts of the world, as well as the helpful handjob secrets. After that, the younger brother didn't come to school one day. That night, he called and asked if I could help him with homework for a week, because he was admitted to the hospital. He had to live in the same ward with some old men who had stomach surgery, and he said they had to watch a TV together. Just rely on a curtain to maintain privacy. His parents don't visit him. He said on the phone that his parents should really kill his brother in the navy now. The kid told me on the phone that-the day before-he took some medicine. In the bedroom of his house, lying on the bed. He lit a candle, looked at some old pornographic magazines, and was about to hit the gun. This was after he had read the letter from his navy brother, and saw useful information on how Arabs fire pistols. The kid was looking everywhere for something that could be used in this way. The ball pen is too thick, and the pencil is not only too thick but also too rough. However, the small, thin, smooth wax that flows next to the candle is probably just right. The kid used the tip of a finger to remove the long strip of wax from the candle, and rubbed it smoothly with two palms, which was long, slippery and thin. He was a little confused and lustful, so he inserted the thing from his horse's eye into the stiff cock, and it went deeper and deeper. He also left a piece of wax outside and started to shoot a pistol. Even now, he still says those Arabs are really fucking smart. They completely reinvented the handgun. He was lying flat on the bed, and the boy was getting so refreshed that he forgot to pay attention to the wax. Just when he was about to shoot again, he found that the wax protruding from his head was gone. All the thin wax slipped in. The whole slipped inside, deep into the ureter that he couldn't even touch. His mother told him to have dinner downstairs. She said to come downstairs, right away. The wax kid and the carrot kid are not the same person, but our lives are almost the same. After dinner, the kid's stomach hurts. It was the wax, so he thought maybe the wax would melt in his stomach and make him pee. Now he has back pain and kidney pain. He can't even stand straight. The kid was calling on his hospital bed, and you could still hear ringing bells behind, someone screaming, and the sound of a game show on TV. The X-ray revealed the truth, and there was a long and thin object bent in two in his bladder. This long and thin V shape absorbed all the minerals in his urine. It is getting bigger and bigger, and it is getting rougher. It is wrapped with calcium crystals, jumping everywhere, hurting the soft tissues of the inner layer of his bladder, blocking his urine and unable to pass out, and his kidneys are backflowed by urine. The only thing that can flow out of his cock is red because of the blood. The kid, his parents, his whole family, they looked at the black and white X-ray, and the doctor and nurse were standing by. The big V made of wax was so white that everyone could see it, so he had to tell the truth. His brother wrote to him in the Navy to tell him about this Arabic handjob. Now he was crying on the phone. They used his college fund to pay for the medical expenses of the bladder operation. Such a stupid mistake, now he can no longer be a lawyer. Insert things into your own body. Get yourself stuck in something, whether it's the candle in your cock or your head in the sling, we all know that the trouble is big. The thing that got me into trouble is what I call "diving for pearls." That is to say playing a pistol underwater, sitting in my parents' pool, at the bottom of the pool on the deeper end. I took a deep breath, kicked and dived to the bottom of the pool, and took off my swimming trunks. Sit there for two, three, or four minutes. Just because of the handgun, I have a very large lung capacity. As long as there is no one else in the house, I will do this all afternoon. When it comes out at the end, my semen will become milky white and a large pile of suspended water. After that, dive into the water again, pick up these, and wipe them on a towel. That's why this is called "diving for pearls." Even if there is chlorine in the pool water. I will still worry about my sister, the Almighty Jesus, and my mother. One of the things I was most afraid of in this world at the time was that my teenage sister, who was still a virgin, always thought that she just grew fatter, but gave birth to a mentally retarded baby with two heads. Both heads look like me. I am both a father and an uncle. In the end, what you run into is not what you worry about. The best part of "Diving Pearl" is the swimming pool filter and the water inlet of the circulation motor. The best part is sitting there naked. As the French said: Who doesn't like others to suck his ass? But the problem is, the first minute you were just a kid who wanted to make yourself cool, the next minute you would never be a lawyer again. A minute ago, I was sitting at the bottom of the swimming pool. The sky was fluctuating. I could see from the eight-foot-deep water above my head that it was a light blue. Except for my heartbeat in my ears, the whole world is silent. My yellow striped swimming trunks are wrapped around my neck for safety, in case a friend, neighbor, or anyone suddenly shows up and asks me why I didn’t practice football. The water inlet sucked me in a steady rhythm, and I pressed down my thin buttocks to enjoy the feeling. A minute ago, I took a breath and held my second child in my hand. My parents go to work, my sister goes to study ballet, and no one will come home for a few hours. My hand brought me to the edge of the climax, then I stopped, swam up for a big breath, and then dived and sat at the bottom of the pool. I did this over and over again and again. This must be the reason why girls want to sit on your face. The suction is like you are shit all the time. My dick is so hard, his asshole always looks like someone is licking, I don't need air. I heard the heartbeat in my ears, and I stayed under the water all the time, and finally Venus appeared before my eyes. My legs were stretched straight, and my knees on both sides were bruised on the bottom of the cement pool. My toes turned blue, and my toes and fingers wrinkled from being soaked in water for too long. Then I let myself reach an orgasm, and the big tuo of white semen began to spray out. Those pearls. At this moment, I need some air. But just when I wanted to kick up the water, I couldn't do it. I can't get my feet to reach under my body. My ass is stuck. The person in the emergency unit will tell you that every year about one hundred and fifty people get stuck like this and are sucked by the circulating motor. If your long hair or your butt gets stuck, you will drown. I don't know how many people die every year, most of them in Florida. Everyone just doesn't talk about it, even the French don't talk about everything. I knelt on one leg and tucked one foot under my body. When I half stood up, I felt something pulled on my butt. I stretched my other foot under my body, and stepped on the bottom of the pool to go upstream. I left the bottom of the pool and no longer touched the concrete floor, but I couldn't breathe air either. I stepped hard on the water and stroked my arms about halfway above the surface of the water, but I couldn't get any higher. The heartbeat in my head is getting louder and faster and faster. Bright spots of light kept flashing in front of my eyes, and I turned my head and looked back...but that made no sense at all. That thick rope, like a certain kind of snake, was bluish-white with blood vessels on it. It came up from the water outlet and bit my butt tightly. Some blood vessels are leaking blood. The red blood looks black at the bottom of the water. It floats out of the small cracks in the pale skin of the snake and disappears in the water, while in the thin bluish-white skin of the snake. Inside, you can see a tuo of half-digested food. This is the only thing that makes sense, what terrible sea monster, a sea python. The things I have never seen in broad daylight, have been hiding in the dark depths of the water outlet of the swimming pool, waiting to bite me. So... I kicked hard, the slippery, elastic, knotted skin and blood vessels on it seemed to be pulled out of the drain. It's about the same length as my legs now, but still biting my asshole. I kicked hard again, an inch from where I could breathe. I still felt the snake biting my ass and pulling it down, but it was an inch closer to escape. You can see corn and peanuts tangled in the belly of the snake. You can also see a long bright orange ball. It's like the kind of large vitamin pills that my dad forced me to take, which made me gain weight and allowed me to win a football scholarship. Among them are added iron and omega-tri fatty acids. It was just seeing that vitamin that saved my life. That is not a snake. That is my large intestine. My intestines were pulled out of my body. This is what doctors call "prolapse." It was my intestines that sucked into the drain. Emergency personnel will tell you that the swimming pool motor can pump 80 gallons of water per minute. The strength is about four hundred pounds. The biggest problem is that our internal organs are connected together. Your butt is just the other end of your mouth. If I let him go, the motor continues to work-to tear my internal organs-and finally to my tongue. Think about the strength of four hundred pounds, and you know how it will hollow you out. What I can tell you is that your intestines won't feel much pain. It's not like the way your skin feels pain. What you digest is called "fecal matter" by doctors. A little bit above is chyme, a pile of pulpy stuff, mixed with corn, peanuts and round green peas. Floating around me is soup made of blood mixed with corn, feces, semen and peanuts. Even if my intestines dragged out my ass, and I kept the rest, even in this case, the first thing I wanted to do was to find a way to put my swimming trunks back. God won't allow my parents to see my cock. I clenched a fist in my asshole, and took my yellow striped swimming trunks from my neck with the other. However, it is still an impossible task to put on swimming trunks. If you want to feel how your intestines feel, then buy a box of condoms made of lamb intestines, take one out, stretch it out, and pour peanut butter inside. Coat the outside with lubricant and put it in the water. Think of a way to break it, and think of a way to split it into two. It was too tough and too elastic, and it was too slippery to hold. The condom of the lamb's intestine is the intestine. Now you can understand what I have to deal with. As long as you let go, you will lose all your bowels. If you swim to the surface to get a breath, your intestines will be gone. If you don't go upstream, you will drown. It depends on whether you choose to die immediately or die in a minute. When my parents come back from work, they will find a huge naked fetus, curled up in a ball. Floating in the muddy water of their backyard swimming pool. It is tied to the bottom of the pool by a twisted intestine full of blood vessels. It's not the same as the kid who hanged himself while playing a pistol. This is the baby they brought home from the hospital 13 years ago. It is the children they hope to get a football scholarship and an MBA degree in the future. Will take care of them when they are old. It is all their hopes and dreams. Floating there, naked, and dead. Surrounded by milky white pearls formed by wasted semen. If this were not the case, my parents would find me wrapped in a bloody towel halfway between the swimming pool and the phone in the kitchen, and a broken intestine was dragged by the leg of my yellow striped swimming trunks. come out. That's something that the French don't talk about. The brother who served in the navy taught us another word. A Russian saying. As we said: "Who wants this is like having a hole in the head." The Russians said, "Who wants this is like having teeth in the asshole." Also." You have also heard those stories, saying that a beast that falls into a trap will bite its own legs. Hey, any coyote will tell you that biting a few bites is better than death. Damn... even if you are a Russian, you might want to have those teeth someday. Otherwise, all you have to do is - you have to twist around. You hook one hand behind your knee and lift that leg to your face. Then think of a way to bite down your ass. When you are out of breath, as long as you can take another breath, you will bite everything. This is something you would not tell a girl when you first date her. If you want her to kiss you goodnight, you won't say it. If I tell you what it tastes like, you will never eat squid again. It's really hard to say which thing my parents find disgusting: how did I get into trouble, or how I saved my life. After going to the hospital, my mother said, "You didn't know what you were doing, baby, you were so shocked." And she learned how to make boiled eggs. Everyone feels sick or sorry for me... I need these like teeth in my asshole. Now, people keep saying that I look too skinny. When everyone had dinner together, I didn't talk because I didn't eat their stew, and I was so angry. The stew is too much for me to eat, and there is roast ham. Anything that will stay in my intestines for more than two hours and cannot digest it will still come out as it is. The lima beans or chunks of tuna cooked at home, when I stand up after getting on the tub, I will find that it is still in the toilet as it is. After a large bowel resection, the digestive function is not so good. Most people have a large intestine of about five feet. I was lucky enough to stay six inches. So I finally failed to get a football scholarship, and I never got an MBA. My two friends, the wax boy and the carrot boy, grew up and became stronger, but I never weighed more than a pound than when I was thirteen years old. Another big problem is that my parents spent a lot of money to renovate the swimming pool. In the end my dad only told the guy who came to the swimming pool that it was a dog. The family dog fell and drowned. The body was sucked into the drain. Even if that guy opened the filter box and took out a slippery tube, a section of wet intestines with a big orange vitamin pill in it, at that time, my dad just said, "That dog is really fucking Crazy." Even in the window of my bedroom upstairs, I could hear my old man saying, "That dog, it won't work if I haven't watched it for a second..." Then my sister's menstrual period did not come. Even after they changed the water in the swimming pool, even after they sold the house and we moved to another state, my sister had an abortion, my parents never mentioned it again. Never said. That is the invisible carrot in our house. Now you can take a good breath and take a deep breath. Because I haven't breathed in yet. (End) ----- Intestines by Chuck Palaniuk
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