As my rollercoaster section creaks up the tracks, Neil Degrasse Tyson pulls up beside me on a jetpack.
“NDT!” My eyes widen in surprise. “What are you doing here???”
“See this?” He brandishes a middle finger, jabs it into my peeper—
“Ow! FUCK!”
—then brandishes it again. “Take a good fucking look! You think I wouldn’t hear about all the shit you’ve been talking?”
I clutch my eye and sputter, “The UFO stuff? Come on, man! You know that models are meant to explain the data—you’re not supposed to ridicule away data because it doesn’t fit your model! And dude, that thing where you tried to justify flipping a caseless phone because you equated it to ceremonial rifle drill enhancing real-world weapons handling is a giant pile of steaming dogshit! You think backflips in eighties movies are a valid indicator of expert martial artists? You were a wrestler, asshole! You should know that combat sports aren’t—”
“That is ENOUGH!” he roars. “Two pokes for you!” He jabs me again, causing me to scream:, “ODIN’S FUCKING RAVEN! STOP FUCKING POKING ME!”
“Don’t worry,” he says as the rollercoaster slows at the top of drop number one. “Pain will soon be a distant memory.” He pulls out his phone (caseless, of course) and clicks on a paused video. A clip from myfriendshotmom dot com starts playing on the screen.
“What…what’re you doing?” I glance back and forth between the steep-ass decline and a trio of hot-ass ladies.
“I know all about your penchant for milfs. Combine that with your gigantic boner, add in the insufficient design of this loop-de-loop ride…” He trails off and gives me a wicked grin.
“Oh no,” I whisper. My wiener uncurls from my ankle and starts pushing against the crotch of my pants. “The ensuing imbalance of centrifugal force…it’s going to rip this rollercoaster clean off its tracks.”
“Bingo.” He lets me have it with both middle fingers. “Physics, bitch!”
“Neil, you UNBELIEVABLE PIECE OF—”
As he rockets away, we plummet into a gut-churning drop. I try and think about culture wars, politics, and blowjobs with teeth, but none of it works—he’s incepted my brain with the finest of milf-porn. Sure enough, the seams on my pants start bursting and popping, ripping apart with a heart stopping crack. My boner springs out, derailing our coaster with its extended weight. It’s like being launched from a slingshot into the ground. Only in this case, we’re heading for a nearby lake.
Fuck it. No options left. I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
My enormous penis immediately gains sentience. “Listen up!” it booms. “I’m going to slow us down with oppositional thrust, aerate that water, and hopefully set it in descending motion! That’s going to lessen the impact and give us a chance!”
“How the FUCK are you going to do that?” I scream.
“Drop yer socks and grab yer cock!” it bellows. Then it straightens and mutters, “Figuratively, in this instance. I need to stay mobile or I won’t be able to—”
“JUST SAVE US ALREADY!”
Wiener turns back to the lake and blows a series of gigantimous loads: CHOOM CHOOM CHOOM. Not only do they slow our descent, but they soften the water with countless bubbles and carve a giant ditch at the end of the lake, allowing it to flow downward and outward.
“Hot damn!” I exclaim. “You did it!”
“Gotta free the riders!” Wiener snakes backward through the sections, popping off chains of shoulder restraints.
After I come up for air, I take a moment to marvel at the resourcefulness (and the ejaculate volume) of my action-hero penis. Then a rush of fear surges through me—NDT is circling back around.
“Wiener, we need to do something or—”
Wiener cocks his glans. “Scrotum? Care to handle this?”
My sack flexes inward, mustering countless gigajoules in its hairy folds, then—PWING!—launches a fist-sized clump of fermented smegma. It flies like a missile toward NDT, splatting onto his face like a Spiderman web-glob.
The first thing he does is projectile vomit. Then he roars, “It BURNS! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THAT’S HOLY—”
That’s as far as he gets before his jetpack explodes into a searingly bright, smoke-wreathed mushroom cloud. Flaming debris arcs to the ground, inspiring me to hum the 1812 Tchaikovsy Overture, the part where they’re firing those beast-ass cannons.
You fuck with the bull, you get the horns, you UFO-pooh-poohing motherfucker! Kent Wayne wins again!
😀
Has a pompous fuckgobble decided to piss in your cornflakes because they’re hung up on semantics and nitpicky egotism? Never fear! Buy my books, smeg all over their goddamn face, then send ’em to their doom with a jetpack malfunction!
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Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha 