These two, shrunk down to the size of a pea, more or less, are even now thrashing and smashing their way through the tiny tubules of my left kidney trying to find their way out via the bladder and then, eventually, the urethra.
The assholes.
There is nothing that can be done, really. Just try to ignore them with pain meds, if I can get them.
Doctors are annoyingly difficult about this, even when you calmly explain to them about the Road Warrior themed professional wrestlers that were shrunk down and placed in your kidneys. Even when you demonstrate that you pee only blood.
You'd think that a person with angry shrunken wrestlers kitted out with spiked football pads fucking around in their internal organs could get a little help.
Besides. I'd be a piss poor drug addict if I only needed thirty percocets every ten months or so, right?
Eventually, the angry little cunts will escape from my urinary tract and I'll be free of them for a year or so.
While thrashing in slow motion and moaning into the bathroom floor tiles at four in the morning, this is little comfort.
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