You are my arch nemisis. I see you wandering around as I go about my IT Computer Nerd business: Tall. Middle Eastern. Pot Belly. We catch each other’s eye every now and then and give each other a slight nod. I know you, I know what you do and I am on to your games.

I saw you this morning, we made eye contact. You nodded and took another bite of whatever Death-Ass producing garbage you fuel up on, that makes the bathroom smell like the inside of a dead monkey’s colon, and nodded at me. I got you this time, fucker.

I give you my icy grin and nod back, then hurried back to my office. It’s almost noon, and that’s the time you like to run to the toilet and preform your daily ASS JIHAD on all the people just trying to wash their hands. Maybe in your country there is no common sense that would tell you that lunch time = hand wash time. People want to get clean and eat, not be fumigated with the high octane liquid shit attack you subjigate them too.

But I got you this time. Yeah fucker I GOT SOMETHING COOKING UP FOR YOU! Two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy sausage patties. A couple glasses of Tang. Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed brocoli I had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald’s Quarterpounder with cheese.

I never eat this shit, it’s all greasy and fucking nasty, but today is the day I fight back. I go out for a quick mile jog and almost die. My stomach feels like there are two midgets fighting to the death inside there. I walk back to work, ass clenched tighter than a virgin’s thighs at Church.

Great. The hot chick from next door wants to chat. She assumes the sweat on my face and arms is from running. She doesn’t realize that it’s a cold sweat induced by my severe sphincter trauma. She finally shuts up and I stagger to the Death Ass Arena.

You are there already in your favorite stall: The one right next to the fucking sinks. You stupid, socially retarded fuck. Fine. You have yet to begin your daily purge of Middle Eastern Ass Stew. I enter the stall next to you and drop my pants in preperation of the upcomming battle.

Your opening slavo is fired: A sloppy wet fart with a solid-shot closer. I laugh and show you the power of Advanced American Foodstuffs.

The tuba fart I unleash echos off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and say "Back to YOU, Kajid!". You are silent, I assume you know who I am and that the time has come for us to battle. I know you are summoning your intestinal fortitude for full out war.

You do not dissapoint me.

With a hissing "SSSShhhhhzzzzzzzzz!" you squirt out a deadly spray of ass juice that pollutes the air and makes my head swim. The pisser at the urinal is no longer laughing, he quickly zips up and runs for the door. He did not stop to wash his hands, instead opting to head for the hills. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt and the black spots disappear from my vision. My head clears. I am ready.

"AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That’s short for "Big Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Butt Log".

Quick-fire farts stutter out of my ass, as I push the monster log from the Shit Dimension into our reality. The beefy, yeasty stench easily overpowers the Indian Ass Gutter odor of your previous attack. Mega Turd hits the water in the bowl with a mighty splash, the reek is that of a dead whale slowly ripening in the hot, tropical sun. I catch my breath and wipe my brow, and start to pat myself on the back. I should have known the battle was not over.

The only thing I can think of is that you must have completely unzipped your ass to your elbow. That’s the only way I could begin to explain the lumpy, creamy splashs falling out of your ass into the toilet. It sounds like you are pouring a gallon of strawberry shake with whole strawberries in it into the shitter. I see the hairs on my arms start to curl from the horrid stench wafting up from under your stall. I shudder and sway on my throne, unsure if I will survive.

I have no choice. I must employ the Deal Breaker. I hunker down and clench my hands together. My fingers twitch and entwine like a nest of snakes, almost like I am running through a series of ancient Ninja Hand Symbols. My feet lift up onto the toes and my legs start to shake.

"You want to play??" I growl. A low moaning comes from my stomach, like a dinosaur calling into a swampy, foggy night. "YOU GOT IT! AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Like Cloud summoning The Knights of the Round in Final Fantasy 7, I summon the Excalibur of Turd Demons to destroy my enemy. Hot magma-like shit rockets out of my ass, releasing a noxious, sticky cloud of deadly rectal perfume. I hear you gag and see your feet shuffle around, but you can’t get away, can you? No. You can’t.

Veins throb on my neck and temples as the turd monster tears itself from my bowels. My lips skin back from my now clenched teeth and I try not to scream. Your roll of toilet paper rolls into my stall. You must have torn it from the wall with numb fingers in an attempt to "Wipe and Scoot". Too late. MUCH too late!

Odors pound you with merciless fists: Rotten Fruitcake stuffed with boiled chicken assholes. Hammered shit-logs served on a bed of week old white rice. Rosie O’Donnel’s racid crotch farts. The smell of your mom’s dank, hairy Middle Eastern armpits.

Your stall door bangs open and you stagger out. You take three unsteady steps to the door and can barely open it wide enough to slip out. I laugh at you before you leave. "Yeah! RUN, Fucker!" I yell, and laugh again. You say nothing.

It’s all over except for the clean up. Fuck with me again, you shit filled Anal Terrorist. Me and my ass will be waiting.

Welcome to Winter.
Prepare the SUCK.

MARK TAYTI - Welland Tribune Staff

PORT COLBORNE — A landmark that has stood more than 130 years burned to the ground early Friday morning.

Firefighters arrived to the White Rd call at about 4:20 a.m. yesterday to find smoke billowing out of The Reeb House Tavern.

"The building is totally destroyed", Port Colborne fire Chief Tom Cartwright reported late friday morning after a backhoe was brought in to level the burned-out structure.

Cartwright said frigid weather and high winds hindered efforts to save the building. The chief said the historic building had seen several renovations and lacked any fire stops. He said flames travelled through the building quickly. Once the fire got outside, the wind fanned the flames. At that point, "We were done," Cartwright said.

During the call, Port Colborne Fire and Emergency Services called in water tankers from Fort Erie and Wainfleet. About 25 Port Colborne firefighters fought the blaze. Police closed a section of Hwy. 3 during the fire and it remained closed a good portion of the day. No one was injured and the owner was on the scene during the blaze.

The chief was still investigating the nature of the fire late Friday morning and had yet to make a decision with regard to calling in the Ontario Fire Marshal’s Office to conduct its own investigation. Cartwright was unable to determine a damage dollar figure.

"At this point, we’re not sure what was inside the building."

As for the weather, "Cold doesn’t mix well with water," Cartwright said. "It didn’t take long for things to ice up."

The municipality assisted by bringing in sand to spread around the area that firefighters were working.

Local historian Don Anger said the well-known tavern was at least 130 years old but was not a designated heritage site. "It is listed in the Page’s Historical Atlas of 1876," Anger said. "Another old, historical landmark is gone."

mtayti@wellandtribune.ca

Beer-drinking men may be reducing their chances of developing prostate cancer with every pint, tests by scientists have revealed.

Experiments have shown that xanthohumol, a compound derived from the hops in beer, blocks a chemical reaction that can lead to the development of cancer.

The disease is usually treated with drugs that act in a similar way.

Study leader Dr Clarissa Gerhausa, from the German Cancer Research Centre in Heidelberg, said: "We hope that one day we can demonstrate that xanthohumol prevents prostate cancer development, first in animal models and then in humans, but we are just at the beginning."

Xanthohumol is a powerful antioxidant, known to have anti-cancer properties. It is also found in fruits and spices.

It was previously suggested that the compound could reduce the chances of females getting breast cancer.

Scientists now believe a similar reaction could affect men.

Further research involving rats showed that xanthohumol reduced the effects of hormone signalling in prostate tissue.

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