-
Notifications
You must be signed in to change notification settings - Fork 0
/
poop.html
executable file
·192 lines (122 loc) · 12 KB
/
poop.html
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
<html>
<head>
<title>JUICY!</title>
<!--<script type="text/javascript" src="http://ajax.googleapis.com/ajax/libs/jquery/1.4.3/jquery.min.js"></script>-->
<script>
$(window).scroll(function() {
if ($(this).scrollTop()>0)
{
$('#scroll').fadeOut();
}
else
{
$('#scroll').fadeIn();
}
});
</script>
</head>
<link rel="stylesheet" href="standard.css">
<body bgcolor="#CCFFFF" style="padding:10vh 20vw 10vh 20vw;line-height:2;" onload="checkCookie()"><script src="name.js"></script>
<?php
session_start();
if (!isset($_SESSION['user'])) {
header('Location: name.php');
}
?>
<div id="title" style="background-color:#80dfff;color:white;word-spacing:10;font-family:Garamond;margin:10vh 0 0 0vh;"><p>
<h2 style="padding-bottom:1vh;line-height:1;width:600px;">I Feel a Rumbler in My Tumbler:</h2>
<h2 style="line-height:1;padding:bottom:10vh;width:600px;">A Sexy Murder-Mystery Explosé</h2><br>
<h3 style="line-height:2;padding:bottom:10vh;width:600px;">Published by the Rolling Stone</h3>
</div>
<div id="scroll" style="width:50px;height:50px;opacity:.8;position:absolute;left:2vw;top:90vh;">
<img src="files/scroll.png" style="width:50px;height:50px;align:center;">
</div>
<p><h4><br>A Farticle by Ardisj Bartoli</h4></p>
<p>* All names have been changed to protect the innocent (and guilty [i.e. Kelly Hart]) </p>
<p> It was a grey Cocktober, Charlottesville kind of day. A big football game was that day, so naturally the entire IRC was at the library. The IRC-wide bully Helly Kart lying in bed (why she always lying? suspicious) when all of the sudden a scream echoed through the halls of Munford, which is where Helly Kart lives. What, a black woman can’t be named Helly Kart? But everyone assumed the scream was the laughter of Poojer, the local ban-ga-ra queen for the International Racist College. Pooj-er, you ask? I hardly know her. Later that day, on her way back from slutting around Rugby Road, Cam Little returned to her dorm in Gwathmey. Gwathmey, you ask? I hardly know me. </p>
<p>….</p>
<p>As she entered the mousetrap, she stumbled in whor-or to find the body of Michael Kettlekorn, a future star on the rise in the world of the WeRC, and a good dancer, in a pool of diarrhea. Also, it really smelled, like farts. An investigation was called, with Helly Kart presiding. Despite Michael’s ID and phone having been found to be thrown out the window in such a way as to trap him in there, Helly ruled that the death was a smelly accident, and then left his nubile, young cocoa body out for the squirrels. </p>
<p> Fear permeated the halls of the IRC. The worst case was in Roberta Gwathmey 420. Its resident, a middle-aged Argentinean named Bernie, had lost his spicy Latin life partner in Michael’s death. As all residents know, Helly Kart proposed to satisfy ‘President’ Obama’s mandatory gay marriage rule by randomly pairing the gay kids in the IRC with the foreign ones so everyone gets citizenship. Bernie was fartbroken as he had (eventually) come to appreciate his gay-marriage-buddy’s pretty good dancing.</p>
<p> Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was Helly Kart (the Asian Obama), the IRC-wide bully laying in bed at the door. </p>
<p> “Listen Bernie, I heard you aren’t getting gay married anymore. That means you have to leave the country, unless you marry me. Meet me downstairs in two days. This is mandatory,” she said.</p>
<p> Later that day, another scream was heard emanating like a fart from the mouse trap. Poojer, the only one aware that it wasn’t her laugh, went to investigate. On her way in, the door on the other side slammed shut and someone was running. Inside, she found a body in a pool of diarrhea. And it smelled. The phone and ID of Cam Little were found thrown out the window, and a gun on the ground. But not just any gun. A fart blaster. <br>
<br>
Suspicions began to arise faster than a fart reaches your nose. Hanukkah, the senior [fourth-year] resident, was the first target. As a German, many grew suspicious that she had brought sugar-free Haribo gummy bears, which are known to cause diarrhoea. However, the fart blaster proved one thing: whoever was doing this was more technicologically advanced than even the Germans.<br>
</p>
<p> “HahHAHAHHahAA HaHhHHAAHAAH HahHHHAaAHHA” </p>
<p>
It reverberated against the darkest corners of Jewis and was said to be heard as far away as Hoxton, whose location is still unknown to this day. There was little ambiguity towards the source of the sound: either someone was horrendously dying of diarrhea, their bowels being expelled violently from their beings, or it was Poojer.</p>
<p>It was both.</p>
<p>….</p>
<p>Michelle woke up in a wonderful mood for a Wednesday. The sun was setting and the dartying was about to begin. She was only a little bit hungover still, but she had slept through the shrieks of the day.</p>
<p>“Get up Poojer! It’s time to go ban-ga-ra!” </p>
<p>“Poojer?” <center><h6>(I hardly know her)</h6></center></p>
<p>….</p>
<p>Michelle felt the lights blur around her in Jewis and her own heart race as she ran, rather girlishly, into the next suite. Out of habit, she knocked anyway. No answer. Something must be wrong.</p>
<p>Michelle went inside. There she was, between the two panes of glass in the window, the empty space filled with fart gas and and a lil’ bit of diarrhea. Poojer was dead and it didn’t look like an accident. </p>
<p>On the ground was a rather carelessly thrown unopened can of bangrarita. Poojer would have never left one unopen but for a serious problem. Her Queen of Bangarra crown was gone! Until its discovery, a new queen could not exist.<br>
“Whoever did this to you is going to be sari!” screamed Michelle, the tears in her eyes clouding her vision of Poojer’s thin body squished between two plates of glass. </p>
<p> The investigation began. Despite no official crown for her Coronation, Michelle immediately assumed her title of Queen, because that’s what the Queen of Bangarang would do (see below).<br>
“I declare an official Banger investigation into these mysterious deaths open!” she cried rather girlishly.</p>
<p> Michelle spent every waking minute poring over the details, sleeping 4 minutes for every 20 hours. One late night, as she dusted for prints, Michelle dozed off. </p>
<p> She awoke to Poojer standing over her in a dusty room.</p>
<p>“Be not afraid” told Poojer, “we are but in room 113, the portal to another world where ghosts come out to play. </p>
<p>“Poojer, shut the fuck up why are you talking like you’re better than me?”</p>
<p>“Ha HAAHhaHHAHAA” screamed Boojer the Ghost. “Silence! The answers you seek are in the steam tunnels. Go now.”</p>
<p> The steam tunnels were dark and moist like poop. Michelle climbed on in. After walking for like a motherfucking millisecond, a shadow materialized in the dark. </p>
<p>“Ola Mitchew. I have moich connectiaos to ‘Elly Kartch. Take,” said the shadow, as it handed her a thick, leathery book. A glimmer highlighted its title: The Diarrhea Diaries.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” asked Michelle like a girl, since girls always ask stupid questions.</p>
<p>“I am Helly Kartch’s ‘enchmain Anjew. Notchice o meo hanchbacki,” he replied with a hunchback. </p>
<p>….</p>
<p> The Diarrhea Diairies at first proved worthless to Michelle as they only contained Helly’s evil, harebrained schemes. One particular scheme appeared on page 69, entitled Evil Plan:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dear Diary,</p>
<p> Today I made plans with OceanWorld to buy Seamus the famous performing whale. They agreed to sell him for only the entire IRC budget, so I happily agreed. What do I plan to do with Seamus, you ask? I’m going to fill the Fish Bowl and put him inside.</p>
<p>Love, <br>
Helly Kart</p>
<p> At first this had no leads. But then Michelle took out Michael Kettlekorn’s diary, Fifty Shades of Gay and read through until she found page 68:</p>
<p> Hey boo!<br>
Muah! So great to see you biotch! So anyhoos, today I totally saw Helly Kart make plans with OceanWorld to buy Seamus, the famous performing whale, using the entire IRC budget and create her own private aquarium. But irrelevant, whatever. Did you see Darty’s tranny wig? Oh em gee… Love, Machael</p>
<p> On page 69:<br>
<br>
Hey boo! <br>
Muah. Today I totally saw Helly Kart and I was like déjà vu ah putain and she was like hey and I was like hey bitch I know u’re secret (; I’m totally gonna expose that ho lol and she was like excuse me? What did you say? Gtg Im going to hang out in the Mouse Trap alone now. <br>
Love, Machael</p>
<p> That was the last page he ever wrote. Michelle, with the help of a man, pieced it together: Helly Kart was the murderer to protect her deal with OceanWorld.</p>
<p>….</p>
<p>“Helly Kart I’m here to arrest you!” shouted Michelle as she bangered into Helly’s secret lair whose location no one knows (Hoxton). However, Michelle did the handcuffs like a girl so Helly got out. </p>
<p>As she ran away, Michelle took her bindi off and threw it onto Helly so everyone would see what a big Red Dot she is.</p>
<p>
Finishing her diary for clues to Helly’s new whereabouts, she stumbled upon another diabolical page:</p>
<p> Dear Diary,<br>
Teehee, me again! I’m selling all the diarrhea my fart blaster creates to Newcomb so no one will ever know about my evil whale plans.<br>
Love, Helly Kart</p>
<p>
Of course! thought Michelle. That explains so much, how no one noticed the money is gone, the food at Newcomb tasting like diarrhea, everything! </p>
<p> Michelle went to her favorite hangout spot, the Fish Bowl. Whenever she had work to do, she would always go there to sleep on the chairs instead. Except today it seemed quiet, too quiet. But not the normal quiet since it is soundproof. Slightly louder, almost as if… someone were inside waiting. It was Helly! </p>
<p>Helly jumped up and fired her fart blaster. Large green clouds of farts blasted through the air. Michelle ran out and slammed the door and held it tight. After several minutes of the gas trapped inside dissipating, she looked in and there was the IRC-wide bully Helly Kart lying in bed on the floor in a pool of diarrhea. </p>
<p>“I guess she was unable to fulfill her doodies as Prime Minister” whispered Rahooligan passing by.</p>
<p>In Helly’s pocket was the Bungra crown. It was a warm, Cocktober, Charlottesville kind of day. It was the day of the football game, so naturally the entire IRC was present for the beautiful coronation of Michelle as Queen of Bergera.</p>
<p> Later in life, Michelle wrote her experiences and published them through the Stolling Rone as The Helly Kart Smelly Fart Story,Send this to12 people in 12 minutes or it will happenn to you too.
</p>
<p></p>
<p><h4>
Previous Titles:</h4></p>
<p>The Very Stinky Poop<br>
The Poop That Destroyed a City<br>
Helly Kart and Her Poopy Farts<br>
Kelly Hart’s Poopy Farts<br>
Helly Kart<br>
The Adventures of Detective Pooper Snooper: Nelly Shart’s Heart Loves her Poopy Farts</p>
<p><h4>
Acknowledgements:</h4></p>
<p>To Bernie - it gets better</p>
<p>Accent coordinator - ‘Big’ Joe Guerororrrila<br>
Co-writer - Cam Little<br>
Contriputors: <br>
Ilyer “I Hardly Know Her” Kardashian<br>
<br>
Lil’ bitch who got in the way - Anjew </p>
<div id="name" style="position:relative;color:red;"></div>
</body>
</html>