The Dark Saga of Snoid's Colon
'Twas the night before Crabbage
an' all thru the cabin,
not a creature was stirrin'
not even Rag's mouse.
As Blandt became ill,
all bent over in pain,
a cheer was heard cumin,
from ol' Kerig's slak mouth.
Enter the dragon -
a Mudshark disguised,
for Rag's misbehavin'
on Thibley's white thighs.
He's twistin an squirmin'
like a Marshall's long ball,
cause he's run out of lube
from the arse of Tommy blue.
All quiet and hushed -
like in some weird panic,
'til Slackmouth can muster
another full head(ache).
Boink can't contain
the feelings he has
for the strain is too much
as Semore steps in.
"Oh Prancer, oh Blitzen,...
"Oh shut you whore"
Interupts Nav Rag,
"I'll not give you an inch"
(and he hasn't one more).
"Now listen up
all you sick little fucks"
"There business to attend to"
" Now, suck it up!"
And, with that sly little whince
he gave as he gurgled
it could only mean one thing
"There's another Crabbage cuming"!.
All blistered and weathered
and looking for fun,
These blokes are a bustin out
for the best Crabbage yet...AAAyyyeee....
(In memory of my good friend Snoid who is suffering from a colon disorder)..
and so it begins...
an epic journey of sorts,
of sight and sound
and great smells.....
Let's hoist a mug o' that ale Slacket's makin'
cause there isn't much time befur we're all stinkin....
Dear Mr. Bambi,
As clearly stated in your message, I find it rather libelous to make such slanderous claims as my client Snoid has
recently been subjected. To further his name with the moniker of one who has a, and I quote, "Colon Disorder", my firm
of Lipshitz and Buhmfuhk, has issued a cease and desist order. Why just last October our client Kunt Emmons, AKA Snoid,
found his colon sound when numerous aquaintences found his colon to be "Quite in Order". The only complaint issued was
from a M. Parshall DuBois who was first on site and found things a bit "chapped and dry". All others in the queue were
summarily satisfied. Why, a deposition recorded just today confirms such -as one individual was so impressed by the state
of my clients colon that numerous inspections were enjoyed. I may not reveal his name in this text but suffice it to say
that his name rhymes with "Kill Pherig".
Atty. at Raw
Dear Ms. Doob,
My client, Mr. Bambi, will not submit to the intimidating tone in your letter. He or she is completely within his or her
rights to write and publish online his or her poetic references to your client's colon. Mr. or Ms. Bambi is a
world-renowned performance artist, dancer and masseuse. As such, he or she has not only a right, but I daresay a duty to
not only explore the outer reaghons of the envelope, but also its most inner recesses as well as any nooks and crannies
into which he or she can muster a decent wedgie.
Furthermore, in both the spirit as well as the letter of the law, Mr. Snoid's colon condition is swelling to be a subject
that has been enlarged by the mainstream of public discourse. Numerous noted journalists have dived into Snoid's colon
both for investigation as well as ridicule. And, it is a completely public forum, since every arm of the Defense
Department has gone into it, as well. Indeed, Mr. Snoid's colon has been open to both major political parties, as well
as some independent parties that have been held up there. The sole exception to this is the branch of the Reform Party
that is headed by Pat Robertson. However, the other branch was certainly up there often enough. As were the Bullmoose
Party and the Whigs. Thousands of Polish shipyard workers have rallied around this as a display of Solidarity.
I am sure that Justices Rehnquist, Scalia and Thomas would gang up on anyone who dared to inhibit lively public
intercourse on and about your client's colon. I know where so many of our founding fathers would come in on this, as well.
Your client's lower reahghions' were exactly what was on their minds back during those steamy summer debates in
Philadelphia so long ago.
Furthermore, the details of Mr. Snoid's colon has been spread very widely in the press. It is ludicrous for you to
expect to staunch the free flow of ideas on a subject that has been broadly featured in the Guinness Book of World
Records. Why, there is even a picture of Mr. Snoid's swollen, disfigured butt-pucker in the Rrrrrrripley's Believe It
or Not - right next to the Labrador Retriever with the twelve tennis balls in its slathering mouth.
No, Ms. Doob, if you try keeping a horde of hungry journalists away from Snoid's colon, you are going to be up Shit Creek
with a mighty short spoon.
With wormest regards,
R. U. Fuggenutz
Dear Ms Fuggenutz,,,
After exploring every avenue and vein leading to the said trail of one Snoidizoid, otherwise known as a heemoroid by
certain Faabio factions, there seems to be no foundation to the beforementioned accusations regarding our client.
Hereafter, we would appreciate the matter closed (tighter than a frog's arse) and remit these allegations to the defining
party in question. After the preferred examinations have taken place we can begin the search for the peanuts and other
amenities in earnest.
Sir Hunt Cair
Surgeons Mate and Legal Council
My client's colon is a public venue- open to all comers. That is a given. However my original intent was to maintain the
integrity of Mr. Snoid's colon. I am taken aback by those who enter into Mr. Snoid's deepest personal affairs and then
proceed to smear his colon. If you continue to expose my client's colon to a public barrage of pokes and barbs - my firm
will be forced to take you on to its fullest extent.
Atty. at Raw
Dear Mr. Bambi,
My client, Mr. Snoid, has filed papers in anterior court regarding your prior comments. You have hurt my client's colon
and caused irreperable harm. Mr. Snoid's colon is now soiled in the public's eye. Why the insults, why the slander? Why
did you feel the need to rip my client's colon? Now Mr. Snoid's colon is wide open to all- this is a sore issue. I wish
we could just wipe out Mr. Snoids colon from this public intrusion. But no, your tongue has entered into his colon. It
is time for your cumuppance.
Lipshitz and Buhmfuhk
Oh, how may I cum to you senses. This is putting me quite beside myself. In my cuntry, where I cum from, there are no
rayers to settle these little disputes. Let us not make a Heemoroid out of a palip. There is no need for these shameful
accusations of barbarey and ripsucking, when no one has witnessed such an act. Have you some proof of these unnatural
acts? I submit to you, that you owe our faction a great apology with affection. Kiss my cow please and release yourself
Raj Mitsberippen esq.
(Off shore somewhere)
Judge Rhag: Well, if Captain Mudshark has no more questions, then it's your witness, Mr. Brandt.
DB, esq.: Lieutenant Bambi, you testified to your intimate knowledge of Mr. Snoid's asshole perhaps to the depth of
his transverse colon, did you not?
LB: Uh, what?
DB, esq.: Did you not testify, Lieutenant Bambi, that you have performed Numerous expert examinations of my clients
bunghole, his sphincter, his aft gangway, his Labia posterialia, if you will?
LB: No, I believe, well, yes....no....eh....yes, I did. But it may have been earlier, right? I'm not sure.....
DB, esq.: Very well. Pardon me, what is your Christian name, Lieutenant Bambi?
LB: Oh, me mom named me Richard, but me friends simply call me Lieutenant Bambi.
DB, esq.: Would you rather we called you Lieutenant Bambi, or do you prefer "Dick"?
LB: Uh, I don't understand.
DB, esq.: Do you want us to call you Lieutenant Bambi, or do you like "Dick"?
LB: Oh, okay, the answer is yes to both questions.
DB, esq.: Fine....Lieutenant Bambi, how many fingers am I holding up?
LB: Um, let's see. Six. No, wait, four, no, three, no four. That's it, four.
DB, esq.: Let the record show that I have my hands at my sides, with no digits extended. Lieutenant Bambi, you are
completely blind, aren't you?
LB: Not completely, no. I believe it's daylight out, isn't it?
DB, esq.: Lieutenant Bambi, you're the biggest wanker on board of you ship, aren't you? Do you not spill the milk of
your own sea cow at least eight times a day?
LB: No, no, not necessarily. Sometimes in colder weather, I'll pop off no more than six or seven. Of course, when it
gets warm, and a buttload o' salt pork starts to turn a bit limy, why, I guess I'm known to chortle my chickpeas maybe
seven or eight quick ones before the end of first watch. No one seems to mind, as long as I get my work done. Plus, the
jizzum's a natural emollient....softens the hands.
DB, esq.: Lieutenant Bambi, you've jerked your beef so much that it has completely diminished your eyesight. You are
hardly a credible witness for the defense. Not only are you as blind as a bat, you're a liar and an asshole, you've
defrauded this court, you...
Mudshark: Objection, your Honor. No, never mind. Belay that. He can keep going.....
DB, esq.: As I was saying.... You are not qualified to testify as an expert, you can't see you're own hands, let alone
the condition of your shipmate's bunghole. You're unkempt, slothenly, worthless, and devoid of any human decency. The
only reason you're aboard the SS Natch at all is for the sexual gratification of the midshipmen, and you're not very good
at that! Is there any man anywhere in the entire Royal Navy that is more worthless and disgusting than you?
LB: Well, I guess not.....except maybe Snoid......
DB, esq.: Strike that from the record! No more questions.
MS: Arrggh, might I redirect, yer Honor?
JR: Make it snappy, Mudshark, all this talk of salt pork is starting to affect my loins.
MS: I'm much beholdin' yer Honor. Mr. Bambi, would ye be so kind as to drop trou' fer the court here, an' unfurl yer
foresail a might thar?
poink, poink, poink....flop
JR: Oh my God, what's the meaning of this? What do you mean by exposing my court to this discolored, spongy, misshapen,
ulcerated, chancre'd mass of whore's flesh? Kaff, kaff, kaff.... Jesus, Bailiff!!!! Open some windows, for Christsakes!
(sounds of flies buzzing)
MS: Yer Honor, me witness, har, Mr. Bambi, be one o' those unfortunate souls what's sensory organs have compensated
somewhat fer the loss o' one o' the other organs.... I b'lieve the plaintiff's counsel will stipulate to th' brown stains
along the flanks o' Bambi's white whale thar? Arrgh, ye wouldn't care to take a closer look at it, would ye, Brandt?
DB, esq.: That won't be necessary. I'll stipulate. Getting any closer to that thing might give a brown eye to our entire
system of justice, your Honor.
MS: Arggh, if th' Bailiff could wheel that keg o'er here, an' pry the cork from its bung...
MS: Now, Mr. Bambi, w'out yer eyesoight, an' w'yer 'ands behind yer back, kindly drape yer loins into the gapin' maw o'
that barrel thar, and tell the court what ye can sense thereabouts.
LB: Well, Sar, it be a three-hundred and twenty-liter oversize double butt keg made from red oak, in the Spanish style, w'
a seventy-five millimeter bung orifice. It's been corked at least eight times. It's original contents be a 1834 Madera
port, but now, it has twelve joint o' salt pork 'cased in lard. My favorite, if I may say so. Oh, an' it seems that one o'
the large hind joints be turnin' a might gamey thar, and it be infected w' more than Naval specifications allow o' blowfly
MS: Arggh, That will be fine, Lt. Bambi. I think it be shown that me witness har haves an organ o' senses capable o'
assayin' th' condition o' ol' Snoids' arse right proper then. That'll be all, ye kin sit down now, Bambi..........Arrgh,
ye can sit down, if'n ye please, Bambi, I've to get t' other witnesses, if'n ye will.
LB: Uh, ...Sar....the barrel....it won't let go o' me, Sar! How'd the Hell I get in there in the first place, anyhow.......
MS: Arggh, Bailiff, pop the tap thar fer the good lieutenant and release some o' the vacuum right quick. While Lieutenant
Bambi wedges 'imself free o' the bung thar, I'd like to call me next witness. If'n I may, yer Honor, I call......the
ship's whore.......Mademoiselle Stephanie LeBojnk..
Mademoiselle Stephanie LeBojnk: Whut's wif dis 'ere? Oy wuz jus' poining away for me boonkmaytes, 'oo be keepin' me loins
a bit greased at noight, if'n ya catch me drif', when ou'a nowhere comes dif 'ere big bloke a puttin' me 'ands in the
irons (oy usually go f' dat) an' 'aulin' me away to dif 'ere bloo'y coteroom. Oy 'ates ta be makin' a shtink (unloik tha'
wanker Leftenn'nt Bambi) but oy gots m' bizzniss to be finkin' 'bout an' ya cuttin' inta me deep.
Lt. Bambi: "Yur Honor, may I col-on one more witness? It jest be a wee bit longer an we'll have it all out."
Honary 'Slapjack' Rawg: "This better be good damnit! I've got krumpets and tea at 4."
Lt. Bambi: "Very well, yur Honor. I call on yur very own Rear Admiral Blandtish to the stand, er, ah, If 'n he can stands
that is - he's a bit under the weather sir."
Rear Admiral: "Nonsense yur Honor! Ughh, slpatsz, arrfff , ah - I can keep this all in just so much longer and then its
gunna blow this whole thing wide open."
Honor Slapjack: "Get to the point man."
Lt. Bambi: "On the night in question, Rear Admiral, did you or did you not enter the hole of the ship, Queen's Mate,
without force-able entery or cohersion?"
Rear Admiral: "I donno, maybe , but it was soo dark in thar an I keept feelin all them hands on me like that - it was
real creepy an queerish."
Lt. Bambi: "Yes, I'm sure you felt out of place. But, did you not plan earlier that day to have a Luau in Honor of the
ships men after the defeat of the dastardly SS Natch?"
Rear Admiral: "Oh, yes, I did indeed. An they were all excited 'bout it to th' man."
Lt. Bambi: "And, so that is why you went down on the galley?"
Prosecuter Marschally: "Ejection, yur Honor. I mean, 'es badgering me client!"
Honor Slapjack: "I want to see where this is taking us. Answer th' question."
Rear Admiral: "Well, I wasn't feelin' all tha' great. An th' pork jest lie thar belly up so ta speak. An' it needed
saltin' in a bad way."
Lt. Bambi: "And, how did ya know that? Were thar no signs of forced entery?"
Rear Admiral: "Oh, no sir. It was jest as I had left it earlier, only a touch more pink."
Lt. Bambi: "Yur Honor, I submit this salted pork as evidence to th' destructive ways of this man here befur us today. It
has had every mans seaman that was on board that day as tested by the Snoidal Institute - except one - the Rear Admiral
himself. So, with all those hands all over ya, as you say, what exactly were yu slappin that night if'n it weren't th'
salted pork, Rear Admiral?"
Suddenly, from the back of the room, a small man in a long white dress propels himself forward in tears and squawks: "Yur
Honor, I cannot take more, it was me Lefty LaBorjk the Admiral had that night. I couldn't help myself - yu see, I love
em fur all that 'e is. I pushed th' pork asside an slid under th' Admiral when th' others weren't lookin. It was me!"
Rear Admiral: "Ya dirty bitch ya! Why di ya have ta spoils it! I was in love too. Th' high seas are a loney place for two
old salts like us. Ya crusty ol gummer! I shoulda killed ya when I'd had me fill o ya."
Lt. Bambi: "So, you knew who's hole ya was into after all!"
Rear Admiral: "It's not like I hadn't been thar befur."
Prosecuter Marschally: "Yur Honor I request a short recess to inspect th' pork a bit further."
Honor Slapjack: " Aye, butt keep in yur pants man. 'tisn't live bait ya know."
To Be Cuntinued..........
Oh,,,I thought that was Tommy in those lost PICs in the Website. Just goes to show, a true blue Snatcher shows pink when
it cunts.....I might add that there are sauves that can remedy much of the soreness associated with golfers cramps and the
obvious daily use of the 'down the pipe' camera that Tommy has used so successfully in those PICs. Enjoy fellow Snatchers
- Tommy's a winner in my book, even if he's a stroke behind (if ya know what I mean).
Lt. Bambi, esq.
The text below clearly is a dig into my client's colon and to claim his gleesening lower reegshions are the property of
Tommy is butt mudslinging. The aforementioned PICS an the webpage are copyrighted and any reference to Tommy's colon will
be construed as an intrusion of Snoid's colon.
Attolney at Raw
Mudshark: Mademoisselle LeBoynk, Ye be th' ship's whore on the S.S.Natch, are ye not?
MLB: You could call me zat. Oui.
MS: When did ye come to climb aboard our vessel, thar?
MLB: Ho, whenevair zey ask me to.
MS: Be it a fair thing to say yer a willing bitch?
MLB: Oh, oui.
MS: Do anything a se'men'd ask fer a sixpence, would ye not?
MLB: Oui. Alzhough zometimes I charge ze Mr. 'Ackett extra because of ze muzeek 'e lizzens to during ze sex.
MS: Business good aboard ship, would ye say?
MLB: Ho no, monsieur, ze men aboard ze Natch are, how do you zay, strangely contented? Zey are always slapping zheir own
peckairs. Or, ram zem home into ze mouth or ze butthoahles of ze other men. 'Aving ze Mr. Znoid around is no 'elp,
MS: Then ye know the plaintiff, Mr. Snoid, thar?
MLB: Oui. 'E lurks about belowzedecks. Comes out in ze night zometimes.
MS: Strong, silent type, would ye say?
MLB: No. I vould zay 'e is more ze furtive, ghostlike, shuffle-butt, mealy-mouth zilent type. Zometimes, I turn around
and I catch 'im zniffing me.
MS: Zniffing ye, did ye say?
MLB: Oui. I catch 'eem wafting ze scent from mon poopstaire. 'E is ze reazon zhere is not ze demand from ze other men
for ze fucking with me. 'E lets zem give eet to 'im in ze butthoahelle vor notheeng. It is a form of dumping, no?
MS: Describe fer th' court, then, the condition of Snoid's arse, if'n ye please?
MLB: Ho, ho, it zhows zo much ze abuse from ze other men. Zhere is the zwollen veins, ze chafing, ze boils, ze running
zores. Things zeem to be, how do you zay, leaking?
MS: How'd ye characterize the size o' Snoid's sphincter? Keep in mind yer under oath....
MLB: Well, at ze Yuletime, ze men prop it open to make ze manger scene. Zey string lights, and zhere is room for ze baby
Jesus and zi leetle animals.
MS: Thank you, Mademoisselle LeBoynk. No more questions.
Rhagh: Mr. Brandt?
DB, esq: No questions, your Honor.