Laughter is like cancer: they both leave a lump in your throat and will kill
you unless you go to a doctor and get them to drop an A-bomb in your mouth
(or a Q-bomb if you're NHS. Biting political satire, cos y'see, standards in
the NHS aren't as high as they should be, so instead of atomic bombs they
have qtomic bombs, but then if you live your life according to the rules of
the keyboard, Q is above A, and W is above A too, but Q is more, so maybe
it's good and maybe it's not, but it's good in spirit anyway, even though
it's shit cos it doesn't have enough money because people think that they
shouldn't pay for services with tax, they should pay for services with
money, which makes a lot of sense if you're a complete fucking retard, and
even more sense if you're not a complete fucking retard but have the sense
of a complete fucking retard) and laughter is like cancer: they leave a lump
in your throat and require doctors with radiation, but they also sneak up on
you like a motherfucker - being male I'll never fuck a motherfucker; I might
fuck someone who once was or will be a motherfucker, but unless I grow
myself a uterus and give birth, I can never fuck a motherfucker; I don't
suppose (scuse two semi-colons, but you don't really care, do you?) I really
want to fuck a motherfucker, but it's just the fact that I can never fuck a
motherfucker that I find limiting, unlike cancer and laughter which can be
anything you want them to be, except a cancerous monkey laughing at the
cancerous face of another monkey who's laughing at the cancerous face of the
first monkey - there's ironic; good thing they aren't photographing each
other or the universe would implode (just once, juuuuuuust once, that's all
I'm asking for, I'd like the universe to explode. Sorry about the clauses.
It's all good.
I once knew someone who had cancer and laughed. Scientists, doctors,
medicine men, all kidnapped him and cut him open until they'd managed to cut
the cancer out of him. You'd think that they'd somehow cut the laughter out
of him too, wouldn't you? Wrong. You can't cut laughter out with a knife, a
scalpel, a chopper, a hacking blade, oh no nono. You (one) can (two) cut
(three) laughter (four) out (five) with (six) a (seven) sharpened (eight)
spoon (nine) but (no more fucking numbers, count yourself motherfuckers)
doctors won't use sharpened spoons (cf. New York Not The Times, front page,
Dec 82nd 19927 "Doctors Won't Use Sharpened cont. p.2" and New York Not The
Times, page 2, Dec 82nd 19927 "cont. from p.1 Spoons") because it's not
professional (cf. ibid. "It's not professional"). Laughter and cancer are
the same. Chop them up and lightly fry them in honey and spices - always
honey, always spices - then toss into some pasta with some honey, pasta,
spices, and a little cancer and laughter to garnish, then serve to your
guests screaming wildly "Eat that you motherfuckers, it's fucking laughter,
cancer, honey, spices and pasta," throwing in an exclamation mark if the
mood calls for it (no candles). Hit them with the handles of the knives,
gripping the blade firmly in your hand... well, as firmly as you can, but
this pathetic desire of man - man being man and woman - to not bleed and not
get hurt too much ensures that you don't beat your guests into a twitching
pulp, just gently imply that you'd like them to eat the laughter and cancer
you've served them and you're willing to hit them with the handle of a knife
to make sure they do. They'll ask for wine or water, just give them orange
juice.
Cancer patients (why do they call them patients? Is it because they are more
than one patient?) are known as the funnest people around. Bad comedians
will go to the local hospices and bribe the doctors to up the painkilling
dosage for one night only, then sell tickets to all the dead people and sit
them in the second row (front row for people who come from towns in the
Midwest called Cuntsville, or Motherfucker City, or once fucked a whore and
beat her to death rather than fuck her and pay her the $14) and laugh their
motherfucking lumps off. They die, people hear rave reviews from the
motherfuckers from Cuntsville and the cunts from Motherfucker City about all
the laughter that was going on - it wasn't to their taste, per se,
literally, but all the coughing people were laughing their motherfucking
lumps off, so it must have been funny, even though they didn't really
understand it per se - bad comedian becomes bad comedian with people
pretending they find it amusing, even though they don't get it, the
cancerous die and the laughing fuck off to fuck their mothers, motherfucker.