I guess this would be the place to put this simply because it's pretty nasty by most standards.

It's Guts from the wonder that is Chuck Palahniuk.

Take in as much air as you can. This story should last about as long as you can hold your breath, and then just a little bit longer. So listen as fast as you can.





Then, this kid, his mom yells it's supper time. She says to come down, right now.


After dinner, he goes to find the carrot, and it's gone. All his dirty clothes, while he ate dinner, his mom grabbed them all to do laundry. No way could she not find the carrot, carefully shaped with a paring knife from her kitchen, still shiny with lube and stinky.

This friend of mine, he waits months under a black cloud, waiting for his folks to confront him. And they never do. Ever. Even now that he's grown up, that invisible carrot hangs over every Christmas dinner, every birthday party. Every Easter egg hunt with his kids, his parents' grandkids, that ghost carrot is hovering over all of them. That something too awful to name.

People in France have a phrase: "staircase wit." In French: esprit de l'escalier. It means that moment when you find the answer, but it's too late. Say you're at a party and someone insults you. You have to say something. So under pressure, with everybody watching, you say something lame. But the moment you leave the party....


That?s the spirit of the stairway.



Looking back, kid-psych experts, school counselors now say that most of the last peak in teen suicide was kids trying to choke while they beat off. Their folks would find them, a towel twisted around their kid's neck, the towel tied to the rod in their bedroom closet, the kid dead. Dead sperm everywhere. Of course the folks cleaned up. They put some pants on their kid. They made it look ... better. Intentional at least. The regular kind of sad teen suicide.






Even now, he says those Arab guys are pretty damn smart. They've totally reinvented jacking off. Flat on his back in bed, things are getting so good, this kid can't keep track of the wax. He's one good squeeze from shooting his wad when the wax isn't sticking out anymore.


From downstairs, his mom shouts it's supper time. She says to come down, right now. This wax kid and the carrot kid are different people, but we all live pretty much the same life.

It's after dinner when the kid's guts start to hurt. It's wax, so he figured it would just melt inside him and he'd pee it out. Now his back hurts. His kid?neys. He can't stand straight.


The X-rays show the truth, something long and thin, bent double inside his bladder. This long, thin V inside him, it's collecting all the minerals in his piss. It's getting bigger and rougher, coated with crystals of calci?um, it's bumping around, ripping up the soft lining of his bladder, blocking his piss from getting out. His kidneys are backed up. What little that leaks out his dick is red with blood.


On the phone, right now, he starts to cry.

They paid for the bladder operation with his college fund. One stupid mis?take, and now he'll never be a lawyer.

1st Half of the story





That used to be my worst fear in the world: my teenage virgin sister, thinking she's just getting fat, then giving birth to a two-headed, retard baby. Both heads looking just like me. Me, the father and the uncle. In the end, it's never what you worry about that gets you.


As the French would say, Who doesn't like getting their butt sucked? Still, one minute you're just a kid getting off, and the next minute you'll never be a lawyer.


One minute I've got enough air and my dick's in my hand. My folks are gone at their work and my sister's got ballet. Nobody's supposed to be home for hours.

My hand brings me right to getting off, and I stop. I swim up to catch an?other big breath. I dive down and settle on the bottom.

I do this again and again.


And then I let it happen. The big white gobs start spouting. The pearls. It's then I need some air. But when I go to kick off against the bottom, I can't. I can't get my feet under me. My ass is stuck.


People just don't talk about it. Not even French people talk about everything. Getting one knee up, getting one foot tucked under me, I get to half standing when I feel the tug against my butt. Getting my other foot under me, I kick off against the bottom. I'm kicking free, not touching the concrete, but not getting to the air, either.


The bright sparks of light crossing and crisscrossing my eyes, I turn and look back ... but it doesn't make sense. This thick rope, some kind of snake, blue-white and braided with veins, has come up out of the pool drain and it's holding on to my butt. Some of the veins are leaking blood, red blood that looks black underwater and drifts away from little rips in the pale skin of the snake. The blood trails away, disappearing in the water, and inside the snake's thin, blue-white skin you can see lumps of some half-digested meal.


Knotted inside the snake, you can see corn and peanuts. You can see a long bright-orange ball. It's the kind of horsepill vitamin my dad makes me take, to help put on weight. To get a football scholarship. With extra iron and omega-three fatty acids.

It's seeing that vitamin pill that saves my life.

It's not a snake. It's my large intestine, my colon pulled out of me. What doctors call prolapsed. It's my guts sucked into the drain.

Paramedics will tell you a swimming pool pump pulls 80 gallons of water every minute. That's about 400 pounds of pressure. The big problem is we're all connected together inside. Your ass is just the far end of your mouth. If I let go, the pump keeps working-unraveling my insides-until it's got my tongue. Imagine taking a 400-pound shit and you can see how this might turn you inside out.

What I can tell you is your guts don't feel much pain. Not the way your skin feels pain. The stuff you're digesting, doctors call it fecal matter. Higher up is chyme, pockets of a thin, runny mess studded with corn and peanuts and round green peas.

That's all this soup of blood and corn, shit and sperm and peanuts floating around me. Even with my guts unraveling out my ass, me holding on to what's left, even then my first want is to some?how get my swimsuit back on.

God forbid my folks see my dick.


You want to feel your intestines, go buy a pack of those lambskin condoms. Take one out and unroll it. Pack it with peanut butter. Smear it with petroleum jelly and hold it under water. Then try to tear it. Try to pull it in half. It's too tough and rubbery. It's so slimy you can't hold on.

A lambskin condom, that's just plain old intestine.

You can see what I'm up against.

You let go for a second and you're gutted.


You don't swim and you drown.




What even the French won't talk about.

That big brother in the Navy, he taught us one other good phrase. A Russian phrase. The way we say, "I need that like I need a hole in my head..., " Russian people say, "I need that like I need teeth in my asshole......


Hell ... even if you're Russian, someday you just might want those teeth.

Otherwise, what you have to do is you have to twist around. You hook one elbow behind your knee and pull that leg up into your face. You bite and snap at your own ass. You run out of air and you will chew through anything to get that next breath.

It's not something you want to tell a girl on the first date. Not if you expect a kiss good night. If I told you how it tasted, you would never, ever again eat calamari.

It's hard to say what my parents were more disgusted by: how I'd got in trouble or how I'd saved myself. After the hospital, my mom said, "You didn't know what you were doing, honey. You were in shock." And she learned how to cook poached eggs.

All those people grossed out or feeling sorry for me....

I need that like I need teeth in my asshole.



Another big problem was my folks paid a lot of good money for that swimming pool. In the end my dad just told the pool guy it was a dog. The family dog fell in and drowned. The dead body got pulled into the pump. Even when the pool guy cracked open the filter casing and fished out a rubbery tube, a watery hank of intestine with a big orange vitamin pill still inside, even then my dad just said, "That dog was fucking nuts."

Even from my upstairs bedroom window, you could hear my dad say, "We couldn't trust that dog alone for a second...."

Then my sister missed her period.

Even after they changed the pool water, after they sold the house and we moved to another state, after my sister's abortion, even then my folks never men?tioned it again.


That is our invisible carrot.

You. Now you can take a good, deep breath.

I still have not.
Second half
Edit: I had to take a bunch out to shorten it up.


Haha! Funny shit. I love that carrot story. I kept on waiting for it to end up that he had eaten it, but that would be too cliche.



um the part with the sister gettin pregnant its bullshit....chlorine kills sperm instantly......sick story though :thumbsup:


Yea I knew that but I felt like keeping the story at least close to how I first read it. :thumbsup:
Edit: BTW the second part of the story is the the good part just to make sure people don't think I juat doubled the same stuff.


WILD said:
ooo ok


One of a kind
That is just sick. Plus I think he would have drowned down there after like 2 minutes... Well anyways that's just sick. I would say that's sad "but he doesn't need teeth on his ass".


Strange Amoeboid Creature
Damned good story... terribly cliched, but a damned good rendition of it anyway. Excellent, you should have put it in Writer's Block.
That's by far the best post(s) I've read since I been here.

Usually I would have stopped half way through the first one, but I needed to finish. Each was funnier than the next. humor, humor,
humor :thumbsup:

Brain Spout

Wizard No More
wow... that is so sad, cause many of us have tried weird shit in our lives, and then some of us get killed or injured by it. emotionally, physically whatever. looking back i consider myself lucky at all the times i should be dead. just an inch away from it, just an inch away from serious, crippling injury. i thank my lucky stars. its just unfortunate that it has to happen to anyone.


Critical Update Notification Tool.
WILD said:
you have scarred me for life


2 Reply

Amoeba said:
I would of but I wouldn't put something by someone else in writer's block and it's probably too gross for there anyway

star99ers said:
Actually it takes a lot more than 2 minutes to drown, 2 minutes is how long you can hold your breath on average, you don't just pass out instantly when you stop holding it, you just slowly slip towards unconsciousness taking at least a few more minutes before you do so.


You just keep on typing..
I read that in a playboy over a year ago!

There isn't anything cliche' about Palahniuks writings. If you say there is, shut up. You don't sound smart, only pretentious. (Of course, thats what adolescence is in a nut shell.)


The Dude
You don't just go unconscious from lack of air when you drown, it's quite a bit worse. When you run out of air and your body starts to get all tingly and you start to panic because you need breath, your body involuntarily starts trying to suck air into the lungs, drawing water into them. I've heard that on average a person takes 6 or 7 breaths of water into their lungs before they drown and it feels like knives stabbing the inside of your lungs.
Can somebody tell me why Wizard Friendly gave me neg rep for posting on how funny those stories are. Are they not works of fiction? He called me a sick fuck for no reason.