Wrapped Up Like A Douche

IDIOMS ATE YOUR WHEATIES (Cont'd.)
A tale of Joy and Woe and Joy in Four Chapters.

By Me, with the assistance of the many intrepid seekers whose use of the following search terms (in boldface) has led them to this site over the past year. (Click here to read Chapter 1, in which your hero faces various challenges en route to Jon Cryer's birthday party.)

CHAPTER 2

After eluding the overweight singing volleyballer, I headed to the bus stop, where a couple of self-styled "Chinatown niggaz" and some bald assholes were waiting. “I can mash potatoes I can do the twist!” shouted one of the Chinese kids, and the balder of the two bald assholes replied, “Shaddup a you face!”

I tried to mind my own business, mentally distracting myself by thinking about pressing issues like Michelle Kwan’s ass or Jeanne Zelasko’s big rack or shirtless Korean stars, while the four bus patrons kept fighting like a bunch of snortin' fire ants. The bus finally arrived and one of the bald assholes stepped on portentously. Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called up coarsely: “Manny Ramirez is a big douche!”

“Listen, you fat ugly jew,” said one of the kids (and really, the ethnic slur was uncalled for, especially since the man was clearly no fan of shmaltz herring), “I don’t give a milking fuck if you’re Winston Marcellus or Ed Too Tall Jones boxing a Mexican--if you don’t shut up about Manny I’m going to give you a spanking OR whipping OR whip OR flog your ass until you’re flatter than toddler rat poop!”

Somebody shouted, “Crotch fight!”--and I’m no paranoiac figure, but I knew I had to get out of there pronto or it’d be shoes crushing cock, or maybe even electrified genitals, in no time. And I had no interest in hearing “He ain't pretty no more” behind my back all night as I hobnobbed with the rich and famous at Jon Cryer's party.

Sure enough, tempers rose and the crotches began to fly, and in the commotion that followed, I managed to escape the bus faster than a shirtless Joe Rogan and flag down a passing taxi. “My name is Ian and I am awesome,” I said to the driver as I slammed the door.

The magic continues in Chapter 3.