Most people will tell you Disney magic is something you only see in movies or after an unlicensed mushroom retreat. But to those cynics, I say, Disney magic is real! And I found it inside an Outback Steakhouse dumpster.
Several weeks ago, I had returned to my regular routine of dumpster diving after forming a fragile ceasefire with the local raccoons. I had come upon a garbage bag full of gently used bloomin’ onions when I came face to face with a common roof rat (rooficus ratticus).
I screamed at the rodent, threatening to “assfuck it in the mouth” if it didn’t turn tail and buzz off. But the rat, having no respect for mine and the raccoon’s truce, lunged at me, first working the face, before diving headlong into my already tattered pants.
Surely, this is the end for me, right? Or, at the very least, the rat would gnaw my dong until the head popped like a pimple. But wouldn’t you know it, the dang thing started getting cozy in my pubes like it was a Holiday Inn business suite. I couldn’t fathom the biology behind it. Perhaps my voluminous pubes and softened mound reminded the rat of its mother’s bosom. Or I had a special connection with the animal, like St. Francis, who tamed the wolf of Gubbio.
But the truly shocking moment was when the weird little freak started yanking on tufts of my pubes, causing my donger to start acting of its own accord. At first, the rat was tugging pubes seemingly at random, like an arcade patron trying to figure out a Mortal Kombat character’s moveset. But then it was deliberate, controlling my dong, trying to use it as a tool to aid in his rat endeavors.
Unfortunately, the ween’s lack of opposable digits makes it an ineffective grabber of food scraps, and its relatively fleshy and soft exterior makes it ineffective at cracking nuts or tupperware.
Still, it is obviously a marvel of animal-human symbiosis. No matter what those scientists who insist that the rat’s not controlling my dick and it’s just me getting an erection may say. And perhaps it’s not quite the same as running the kitchen of a Michelin star restaurant (I am working on a screenplay of my life story, by the way). But no matter what the pessimists and the doomers might say about Disney magic being some cockamamie fantasy, all you true believers can rest easy knowing that out there somewhere, there’s a guy in a dumpster getting his pubes tugged by a rat.