Based on Real Events

On Sunday, Huss and Uppen were playing a lavishly sweat-soaked beer-handed game of kick, when Uppen landed a dumbass highball in the neighbor's tree liner.  He happily and chunk-heartedly accepted the imminent duty of hopping a fence in order to retrieve that damn red ball.  What he didn't plan on, however, was cutting the meatiest beef loin on his thumb and mitt connection.  He let out a girlish, "Oh shit!" before landing back on the right side of the world, his hand steer-crashing directly into a pile of dog wasters.  There was shit in his cut.

On Monday, Uppen realized he had some bruise rations on his arms, and payed no attention to them.  They had probably been knocked into him, carving style, by some random object or human of rudeness.  "Or else," he thought, "I'm just a dunce."  In actuality, he had given himself the bruises with his mind, as his was a powerful mind, capable of denting and smooshing the flimsiest of chest branches: the human arm.

On Tuesday while peddling his bike he was shit on by a rather small bird with an ironically large stomach, capable of holding worlds of tiny seeded purple clumps.  "Shit in a cut, and shit on a bruise," he thought to himself, laughing out loud and screaming the letters L, O, and L!

When he got home he ate a bowl of grains and told the world his story.