I was having a great time on the nude beach. That is, until I went to the bathroom to take a silky soaky poop. I sat down and almost immediately I heard a voice say, "We've lost visuals, Bob." My cheeks fluttered and vibrated to the sounds. Was there something in there? Had my bum been bugged?
It appeared so. The only thing I could figure was that it was Horman's Glass Eye Factory. They suits had been a little pissed when a bucket of product went missing on my last day of work. But I just couldn't help myself. I love lobsters. Everyone knows how self-conscious they are about their tiny little eyes. So I've always made a point to help them whenever I can, including gluing fake eyeballs on them so they blend in when they're doing their supermarket shopping.
I had been found out. I was sure of it. I felt like I only had one option: I hired a rat to dig its way up there and come out with the bug. Six wonderful hours later, it still hadn't found anything. When it finally made its exit, it was smiling. "And why are you so happy?" I said.
It giggled. "You had tamales for lunch."