Crabbage Snatch - Wide World of Splurts
CE: Hi, folks, it's Chris Econamaki, along with our color announcer, Eke Growler, and the Floppin' Scot, Jackie Stewart,
on the beautiful cliffs of Acapulco, overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, for the World Championship of Flop Tossing. You can
really smell the excrement in the air.
JS: That's raight, Chrees, da folk's'l be traited to Cleef Flapping at its baist today. These brown darrdeveels hav'n't
a sense of fear whotsoeever, Chrees!
CE: As you know, all this week, ABC's been bringing you coverage of many events in the world of Flop Tossing: freestyle,
slalom, tandem, low-board, 3-meter board, many different weight classes, but today's event is what the people come to see -
the heavyweight earthmovers doing precision diving moves off of the 320-foot cliffs of Acapulco into the surging surf
below. What can you tell us about this extraordinary event, Eke?
EG: Chris, this takes a perfect coordination of diet, timing, bowel development, sphincter control, and careful training
of the real stars of this competition, the turds themselves. There is no size or weight limit in this unlimited class, so
some of the brown bullets cutting the wind up here will weigh in at 12 to 15 pounds. Real lunkers! To even make a showing
at this level of competition, these dedicated competitors have been impacting their colons for four, five, maybe six weeks.
This is not a "best of three" event. The shit is all on the line today. These giants in the Flop Toss will need to climb
up the cliffs under their own power, back their heels to the edge of the stony cliffs, grab the "Shark Bar" with one hand,
drop trou, let fly, and get themselves to the medical tent without assistance. The contestants must time their release
perfectly so that their entry hits the surface of the water at the exact crest of an incoming wave. If they mess up, the
water will be too shallow, and the turd will shatter and imbed iteslf into the rocky sea bottom below the surface.
JS: Who's oop on da cleef now, Chrees?
CE: That would be the Russian, Marshallis Jurgen-Evanoff. There's some controversy swirling around the Russian
competitors, isn't there, Eke?
EG: That's right, Chris. This competition is limited to amatuers. However, although the Russians do not compete for
money, they receive a tremendous amount of state support. Marshallis Jurgen-Evanoff is a good example. Because of his
rectal talents, he is actually been given a commission in the Russian Navy. Year 'round he recieves a generous stipend, the
best foods, and a "job" that permits him to practice his craft. In Jurgen-Evanoff's case, he is stationed on the transom of
a minesweeper, dropping sonar bouys into the water at the Mormansk submarine base. It isn't breaking the rules, but it just
doesn't seem fair...
CE: Okay. He's up to the line....Drops trou... Okay, let's cut to the ButtCam. I see some swelling...He's trying to
concentrate....trying to relax....a couple of drips of brown...watching for his wave.....one centimeter.......still at one
centimeter.....still one centimeter....another drip....one centimeter....
JS: I'm sainsin' a beet a trooble oop there, Chrees.
CE: Still at one centimeter....a drip.....this doesn't look g.....OH, NOOOOOO.......He spews. No firmness at all. Just
a wet, brown cloud of shit flakes riding the turbulent air currents down the cliff. The bulk of that spew blew over and
just drenched the judges' box.
JS: The juudges canna like that, Chrees! They'll be needed new score cards I think. 'E's disqualified fer suure. Too
EG: Yup, sometimes the contestants just get into Acapulco a few days too early. They call this "Pullin' Peaches". What
JS: Wail, who's next, Chrees?
CE: The next contestant is a real crowd-pleaser, folks, Todo Dodirr, all the way from Japan. This guy's always got
something clever up his butt! I'm sure he won't disappoint us today.........Okay, he looks ready....back of his tatami
sandals at the edge....flips up his signature silk robe...let's himself aclimate to the temperature of the breeze. Let's
switch to the ButtCam....
EG: Look at the grimace on that face, Chris. We can only guess what's going through his mind right now, oh, wait a
minute, wrong camera, sorry.
CE: We're seeing some good swelling....one centimeter....two centimeters......four centimeters......six.....eight
centimeters...ten centimeters....twelve...Geez, look at the surface of that thing. Bits of cloth, tin foil, bird beaks,
buttons...what is that, a sparkplug?
JS: Wow, it almast reads like a novel, don't it, Chrees?
EG: He should've released at eight...
CE: .....fourteen centimeters....fifteen centimeters....
EG: Oh my God! Look at that! His turd already contorted itself into the tuck position - while it was still in his ass!
There's some searing pain there, Chris.
CE: Sixteen centimeters...He's got his wave.....RELEASE!!!! Whoa, look at that! A triple gainer...a double twist...out
to a swan...another gainer....double somersault....straightens.... Perfect entry!!! The judges love it when a turd enters
the water perfectly straight and just RIPS the surface with nary a splash!!!
JS: Aye, I'll bait they do, Chrees. But I'll wager tha' Dodirr maighta experienced a bit too much RIPPIN' of 'is own on
We'll get back to Acapulco in a minute. Let's take a minute to go to Vancouver and the 50th Anal Log Rolling Finals. And to
keep you deep in the midst of the this event let's go to Chris Schenker and Jim McGay.
CS: Thank you. You know this event really goes way back to midieval times when the First Earl of Kunt missed the commode.
The Duke of Abeline was strolling about musing to himself when he stepped on the growler but amazingly he rolled along...
just rolled along.
JM: And thith ith jutht the penultimate...oh I love to thay that... penultimate event. Thay Chrith, I thee our firtht log
ith in plathe.
CS: That's right Jim, and it's a true Sarkisian class brown mauler. Looks like it's the Russian Ivan E. Reksian versus the
Austrian Hans Johb.
JM: Oh, I jutht love the thmellth of this clatthic. And look at Ivan thtarting hith roll.
CS: Oh, Jim, the Russian has found a solid section free of corn and he's really giving it a spin.
JM: Thatth what I would do. Uh oh, Chrith, the Authtrian theems to be thlipping.
CS: Yeah, it's about over...Whoa! Ivan E. Reksian just spun off on some whitish dollop!
JM: That lucky bathtard!!
CS: Looks like we're done here. Back to Acapulco.
And now back to our FCS studio where Jumbo Brown and Wowie Long are with our in- studio guest commentator, Bobbio.
JB: Wowee, Wowie! Can you believe some of the cumpetition we've seen so far today?
WL: The size of some of the entries reminds me of the infamous "Gardiser Shoveler" and the execution as smooth as the top
of Tearing Broadstraw's head. What are your impressions, Bobbio?
B: Oh, I am sooooooooooo sorry, I was jus' checking da monitor of some replays and the sight of those perfec' turdcutters
squeezing een an' out an' een an' out an een an out an' een an' out, uhhhh, well, it made me start to gleesten in my loin
resgion. I must say dat dat leetle Japanese fellow could probably eet with that thing, which makes me kinda steef, efven
tho' I'm s'possed to be partial to dee udder way. I was particularly excited by the tag that popped out of the boathole of
the Indian entrant, Blandtblowpal. Da pinnish sanguine stream dat made hees entry look like Mars as a cumet should cost
heem dearly with da East German judge, Lickhard Bunner, but I teenk it should result in arteesteec merit points with dee
English judge, I'll Dumptons. Hees been dere. On da udder hand, Heavin' Feeled, da judge from Weeniesore, ees likely to
geeve a very low score because dat happened to heem one time an' he all butt crapped hees asshole. Da memory could be too
gruesome. I donno, tho'.
WL: Bobbio, would you like to go backstage with me?
JB: Hey, I invited him.
WL: Shut up!
JB: Well, if your going to jackoff, do it silently.
B: Bobbio canna do that, JB, unless hees taking da checkered flag at Talladega where no can hear. An' besides, its cleeper
time for Bobbio, too.
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CE: Folks, this is Chris Economaki again, breaking into your regularly scheduled shitcast, with an update on the World
Championship of Flop Tossing from Acapulco. As you know, we were unable to finish coverage when the Dutch competitor,
Grunther Brundt stopped up the entire movement of the games with the unprecedented tactic of simply holding it, for some
three weeks now.
EG: That's right, Chris, it's an unusual strategy. The rules allow competitors as much time as needed to squeeze out their
entry. Once they back up to the cliff edge and assume the position, they can stay there as long as they want, as long as
they don't move their feet, and no one touches them or assists them. Brundt set up a terminal rictus in his sphincter and
slowed his metabolism down to a standstill. The only energy he has expended for three weeks has been concentrated on
keeping a tight spasm in his butt cheeks. After this much time, most of the other competitors have long ago been wearing
their entries down the inside of their pants legs. What a competitor this guy is!
CE: The German, Lickhart Brunner's been up on the cliff for a couple days eating Braunscweiger sandwiches in front of the
Dutchman, trying to induce some labor, but Brundt's been firmly holding his clinch, no matter what it smells like up there.
JS: Aye, Chrees, thees man is a lagend in the Natherlands. The Dootch people ha' coome to think that "bearing the brunt" o'
something is a good thing! Why, instead of taking a shite, you'll hear 'em say they're "taking a Brundt".
CE: Well, the head of the turtle is finally starting to pook out there today. Some swelling has starting to show and the
network has inserted us into the regular programming so the folks at home could get a load of the finale of this
championship effort. You know, it looks like Brundt has had some tattooing performed on his asshole last night. What the
hell does that say, Eke?
EG: Nothing, Chris. Those are stretch marks. It's all part of what happens when a loaf this size starts to rise.
JS: No food, no water, no human touch, no bowel movement for thray weeks! How's he do it, Eke?
EG: Jackie, Brundt has probably packed in nothing but pickled eggs, Rye Crisp and smoked Edam cheese for several months.
That thing in his asshole is really calcified by now! If he doesn't throw that thing soon, it could turn into limestone.
If this competition were held in the Southern Hemi, the counter-spin on that thing could kill him. It's called the
JS: Waill, I can see the big Dootchman's starting to float 'is barge down the Moselle now. Thar's soome dripping an' a bit
o' brown starting to show. That's gatta hart, doesn't it, Eke?
EG: Maybe not, Jackie, the Brundt family is well known for their assholes. During the war, many Jews, Gypsies and
homosexuals took refuge up Brundt assholes to escape Nazi persecution.
CE: Eke, Eke, look, he's making a political statement today, too. Brundt's fashioned this turd into a reasonable likeness
of Eleanor Roosevelt. There's her shoulder. Wow. Do you think he's in a lot of pain, Eke?
EG: I'm thinking he's liking it, Chris.....
JS - What's THEES happenin' here, Chrees? It loooks like a upstagin' ' sorts by a laite entry frum a man they call just
'RAG'. Hees a local ya know, an has more beef in hees diet than the ruules allow.
EK - just look at the size of this mans assh--
JS - Chrees, Chrees, loook! It's a sidewinder hees fashioned an turnin up the heat in this competition. It's a bloody
drooler..I've noot seen the likes of a turd like thisn' since the Fieldlsy brothers ganged up on the proud brother Snoid in
a contest at the '97 Crabbage fair...
EK - Well, ya old gis freak, this'll set you free! Look at the momentus effort being put out right now by the Blundt man
himself! His corn's been in there so long that most it has popped - giving his entry an unusual texture and color.. a bit
like carmel covered corn bars...an tha way he thrusts his cheeks to the side with every growl is definitely a crowd pleaser
JS - Awe, shut yur trap ol' man an loook at thees thing the ol' man RAG 'as poot together. EET's amazin I tell ya! Hees
cheeks 'er all butt lax now an steell there's a mushroom head a cummin from who knows where - he's not human I tell ya!
CE - A suddeen quiet has befallen the crowd. Something grotesque and oddly foul is making it's way onto the platform here at
the cliffs. Not to be outdone, a great master himself has made an unusaul pilgrimage to these sacred cliffs to make one last
statement. This man needs no introduction - the great one - has arrived. The Shark has been on the sidelines, obviously
waiting for some competition worthy of his efforts. But, he is moving stiffly...
JS - Aye, what woon't yu too if yur clam bake had ended the way hees did last night. He doesn't even need to pinch 'imself
all up like the others - waitin four foul weeks bafur takin a sheeet. He dooes it regulalary I'd say. With 'es great beeg
appetite for all that cabbage and oother rabit like food, I don't know if thar's eenough meeat in es diet to cover the
EK - Blundt has cum to a complete stoppage. If he gasps at the sight of another entry he'll be finished. And, to think he
came this far - the least he could do is touch himself...this cometition is intense for all the competitors now. RAG has
made a lot of progress, but at the expense of some serious blood loss. The ruffage was more than he expected obviously. It's
painful to watch, Chris.
CE - No kidding, just look at the strain on his face. The damned thing started a sidewinder and now he risks
disqualification if it actually touches him again. It's fully doubled back....he's no way out! Look man, it's a 20 pounder
if it's a lick, and he has to lean heavily to counterbalance or he risks falling to the sea....
JS - That's joost eet, Chrees. These men arrre professionals. They've seeen worse things in thar day. I personnaly theenk
that Blundt is enjoyin' himself 'as he hasn't started to teear up yet. Aye, the bloody thing is, ya can't count out a one
o' them yet. Boott, my mooney's on the masterrr. EEF Shark can whail out another full chummer as e's managed befur, thar'll
not be another man standing on that cliff...
CE - Well, there youhave it - a mexican stand-off in the perfect setting as sunset falls on the pacific - the cliffs hail to
yet another day in the greatest and oldest sport in the world. This is Chris Economaki says so long for now from the cliffs
of Dover --- that's Acapulco, actually.
And now a word from our sponsor Nalley's
Well Mr. Shark, that's a might nice growler sittin' in that bowl. How do you do it?
Oh, young fella, some credit past sexual practices with enlarging my rectum. That may be true at first -but I find to keep
my pipes at their "fullest" I can always count on Nalley's. You see nothing is better at keeping log jams at bay, than gas
Wow, Mr. Shark, how does it work?
Well, each bean goes to work recruitng Methane molecules that love the open air. Then, each bean skin attaches itself to
that pesky semen and prevents it from gumming up the works. It's that simple.
Wow...you're the best.
What was that?
I said you're the besooowwrrlllllllglmmmphhhhhhh!
Yeah, that's what I thought.
And now a word from the Rectal Institute
Hello. You may know me as Bambi, Benhard, or maybe that guy that looks for slack jaws at 3am at the tournament. Well, today
I'm here to talk to you about something serious...rectal polyps. Did you know that an alarming number of rectal polyps can
be safely removed by a safe, homopathic method? Yes, I'm talking about...fisting. Why, I've been polyp free since my days at
Sigma Pi at Berkeley...and so can you! So remember: "Found a cyst? Pound a fist!" Thank you.
Quiet, Folks, this is Stoive Orjkwin, the Craw'Cunter oiv Astrailia. Oi'm snaikin' op on a beautiful spaciman of the rare
and traicherous Mexican Hairy Guano Crab, or as the locals call 'em, La Pincera Pindejo de Pubicon.
Ya cun't jus grab one of these gals and toss 'er inta a boilin' pat. This one heah, fah instance, is at least a hundred and
sixty soome odd pounds. The big ones, like this gal, ah all female. Ta give ya an ideah of what we're dealing with heah,
when the Guano Crabs mate, the big female fucks the shit out of the hapless male Guano in a frenzy of boisterous coitus. At
the climax, she squahzes a coupla dallaps of sperm outah him, rubs is all over herself, then rips 'is head off, and rams the
fartalized eggs down the neck hole of 'is twitchin' body. Then, she pisses on 'im and kicks 'im back into the water.
This gal's just sunnin' herself on the rocks below the cliffs heah. I think it'll be fun to sidle up on the old gal real
quiet like and stick my dick inta her slack mathpahrts while she's sleepin'. Wow, look at the snappers on 'er! Ah'll just
get my zippah snake ready fah battle hear....
whackita whackita whackita whackita
Theah, that's bettah. Now, let's see what happens......
creep creep.... creep creep......lunge....
spuckspuckspuck...clickitaclackitaclickclick...spuckspuckspuck...clickitacli ckita...oh, ah'm at mah zenith
What the hell? Criky, folks, look up theah! Looks like a torpedo-shaped boulder is fallin' end for end down from the top
of the cliffs heah, arching right down onta yours truly. Ah gotta get outah heah, quick-like. Hey, let go a me, ya crusty
ald gummah! Wait, that's no boulder, that's a bonzer-size piece of human sh.....
Hello, I'm Rex Navigol for Timex.
You've heard about our famous Timex watches that 'take a licking keep on ticking'. Well, now there is another triumph in the
world 'O watches. It's the Miracle Watch. Yes, that's right, Timex has invented a new watch worthy of its legacy. Simply
put, it's the best watch ever made by Timex.
Here's how it works. We put the mechanisms for the snacthery in a honed out core laced with tiny elements of used pubis.
This minute hair-like folicles are able to withstand even the most punishing environments - and, our testing proves it! We
were able to put a Miracle Watch inside some of the most horrofying places imaginable.
Several thousand subjects were checked for appropriateness to the demanding endurance and strength needed to give our
watches the test of a lifetime. After much research, several applicants were chosen for their unusual adaptability to
various clientellia and pubiscus. Of these, only one name stood out with the qualifications.
Navigator Rag was subject to a string of forty watches all cleanly tucked just past the fringes of his numerous heemoroids.
After several washings, Crabbage rounds, 20oz steaks with multitudeness beers, and unusual acts with sheepish gentlemen
from the loft, we were able to extract all forty watches without a single second lost between them. That's right, and soon
after Navigator Rag came back to his senses he was asking for several more to wear as living proof, to stand as testiment,
to the Miracle Watch. (Although, he could barely stand at that point).
Isn't it time you got a Timex?
Until next time, this is Rex Navigol, saying good bye from Timex.........
CM: Welcome back to the Spyglass Open. If you've just joined us, we're at the 17th green with a slight breeze at our backs.
This year's favorite to win has just teed off and here comes Mr. Thibley behind him for his second shot.
JB: Weell, I wouldn't be puttin' that one past 'im. If he pushes thees one too far left 'ell be up the crick so's ta speak
an' playin' the backside all over again. I tell ya, 'ell be in trouble Chris.
CM: Apparently, he likes it there because he's just pulled that one, too.
JB: I knew it! He had to be a flamer!! Loook at hees beeeg fat mud...
CM: Quiet, now.. the trap has him in a bind, but we've seen him make this shot a thousand times before.
JB: Aye..butt with 'ees 4 iron??
CM: We all know how much the Shark trusts his irons, Jackie. In fact, he hasn't had wood for some years now...
JB: Thaat's what I've beeen tryin' ta teell ya! Hees got a bloody canker on hees left hand an' e can't make that shot
without some divine help 'er somethin.
CM: Well, apparently, that's just what he's getting now. His caddy, Nav Rag, has called in the judges for a ruling on the
suave he wants to administer before the shot..
JB: Thaat's no bloody sauve! Hee's got a whole cup full 'o seamen I tell's ya. What a bloody cheater!!
CM: Not exactly, Jackie, this is merely an extension of the rules for perhaps one of the best players in the game
JB: My ass, damnit!! HEees bloody going ta rub that stuff all over hees hands and ball to make it glide like a rudder in a
squawl. ..Good God, Chrees, loook, hees drinkin that sheeet...
CM: We break now for a word from our sponser, but, we'll return for the last hole after this word from "Cabin
Bambi: Lt. Bambi Benhard, sir! What's that in your hands, sir. A loin 'o pork?
Blundt: No, you idiot, it's a pork loin! Here, let me show ya how ta work these lines..
Bambi: OOhh, no, you don't get that thing away from me! It smells like an old whore!
Blundt: Yea,, you wood, too, if ya had to keep takin' all the seamen's fur a ride...
Bambi: I get it! Like something the snatchers would want to do after playin' a hard 9 holes? Butt, I thought it was
Blundt: In your dreams. Hey, nooo.. don't pull that thing out! Ahh, damn, that's ugly!!!
Bambi: Yea, butt you'll grow ta loves it like yur own. It's growin on ya now, see!!
Blundt: Shut up, can't you see I'm busy....ummoph, splatt , ummph , arghh, awee
CM: We're back, now, in Spyglass, just up from the 18th where we can see the rest of the pack as they move up the leader
board. Our favorites are still playing hard for a dead heat finish.
JB: Yees, it tees a hoot one, too, Chrees. But, many 'o thees players have beeen here before, tooo. Jost loook at the
Field Marshall workin hees way up the line...Hees a pro I tell ya.
CM: The crowd has fallin silent as the third shot of Dusty Wanker's 5 iron has just bounced off the green and into the
JB: OOoo, that's a bad breeak for Dusty, Chrees. He was doin' soo good on the front nine, too...
CM: Just like a pro, though, he's putting a ball in play with a fabulos shot off the flag,, and it just dropped in!! What
JB: Yuu can say that again, Chrees. Hee's jost about beat the board, now...Say Chrees, what does hees emblem stand for, on
the back 'o hees shirt? It looks like some crusty ol crab!!
CM: Right you are, Jackie. That has been his crest of arms for some time now.. it grows on you I suppose...
JB: Maybee, it's jost a way 'o sayin' hee mississ 'hees cuntrymens....aayyyeee....