What did the blind, deaf and mute kid get for Christmas?

_cancer.

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You are reading this, word by word, letter by letter; expecting to be told the usual banality of my everyday life.

Unfortunately, my life has become so heinously banal that the banality of it has reached a point that none ever have before. Recent events have turned my existence into one so banal, it's interesting. My life has become so wonderfully ordinary that it has come full circle into the circle of the extraordinary.

In vernacular speech, My banality has gone... bananas.

This is a revolution. No longer will I be shooed from parties, shied away from at festivals. Now, I will seize the stage; greeted with a standing ovation and the somewhat ghostly sound of every breath being held. Now, you will no longer put up with the many bromidic tales of my recent non-adventures, as in their stead will be the remarkably maze-like quality of being so amazingly unamazing.

Lo and behold, quasi-interesting children of the mire! Peer at and admire your superiorly-inferior peer!

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So, anyway.

Me, Brigette and a few other friends will be in Japan from Dec 18 - Jan 12.

I can hear your low, creeping moans of jealousy. I'm so very excited, my originally-white pants have turned a grotesque yellow.

That's not a joke, by the way. I am waist-deep in urine.

The entire city is heavily flooded with my pee. Be it in schools, shopping centers or in public playgrounds, the city of Brisbane is deeply entrenched in the golden flow of my pee.

What's worse is that my pee is evaporating into the atmosphere, having adverse, unprecedented effects on the weather here. Just last week, the rain was unmistakably heavy and yellow, pouring down into the horrified catheter that was Brisbane.

It hailed last night, frozen kidney stones the size of basketballs. That hailstorm caused more damage than you could ever imagine. Gargantuan kidney stones were storming through the city, crushing cars, breaking skulls and toppling buildings. The kind of kidney stones nightmares are made of.

The clouds themselves have mutated into scrotum-esque horrors. Scrunched up rolls of demented urine and kidney stones, booming thunder louder and more relentless than the pool of water in a toilet bowl underneath a man with severe, nigh-fatal diarrhea.

I heard that there are groups of survivors trying to reach higher ground; foolishly trying to stabilize their lives in this new world of gigantic raining scrotums; what everyone has known to be coming for years as the impending hopelessly chaotic apocalypse. Idiots, the lot of them.

Nothing escapes my pee.

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What kind of file do you need to turn a 15mm hole into a 40mm hole?

_{A pedophile.}