Jesus had been lifting weights for months to get
ready for the Chippendale’s calendar, but it was having no effect; he still
looked like a skinny little loser who’d been fasting in the desert for forty
days. So he called Helga, his personal
witch for turning people into poop, and tricking other people into eating the
poop, which is pretty fucked up when you think about it. He usually puts a thin layer of poop inside a
sandwich, and it’s not like they don’t even notice that it’s poop, I mean it’s
poop, and that’s a pretty specific taste, you’d imagine.
So Helga gave Jesus the name of a good plastic
surgeon who would insert bags of silicone where most guys have muscles. But when the surgeon saw how bad off Jesus
was, he had to come up with a whole new plan.
He left for bum town and found himself a bum. The bum was sleeping in an alley when the
surgeon snuck up and tazzzered the shit out of him, then tossed him in the back
of the truck.
Back at the lab, billionaire genius, Jesus, was
having his muscle pulled from his body, making way for new, bum muscles, and
even a new penis.
The surgery was a
success. The photo shoot went off smoothly, and the calendar
was released on time. Millions of girls
around the world masturbated to Jesus (Mr. July), thus damning themselves to
hell, and fulfilling Jesus’ master plan.
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