Today I’m at the Gaithersburg Book Festival and you need to come see me. Please? But until I get back, a rerun from many years ago after I found a miracle lawn boobie. It’s all pretty self-explanatory:
So this morning I went out to to check on the miraculous boobie mushroom and it was fucking gone.
And I was a little upset because I’m pretty sure my neighbor stole it to sell on ebay but I just said a little prayer (in the form of me flipping off my neighbor’s house) thanking God for letting me see the miracle boobie if only for a short time. It’s like it was a sign that life is fragile, or that I’m watering the lawn too much. Then the really weird shit happened.
Yesterday several of my readers pointed out that the miracle boobie was probably a sign from St. Agatha, who is best know for being the patron saint of breast cancer after she dedicated her life to God and then had her boobs cut off by some jerks for not whoring around and then God healed her. But then she died anyway. It’s complicated.
But then, like a foot away from where the miracle boobie had been, was this:
A double boobie mushroom.
I mean, technically it doesn’t have much of a nipple and the areola is kinda brown and not really breast-like at all, but still. The point is that the miracle boobie was cut down in it’s prime but then grew back, exactly like when those guys cut off the boobs of St. Agnes and they miraculously grew back. But I suspect they didn’t grow back very well because why else would she always be depicted carrying her old boobies on display in a cake dish? Probably because the new ones looked like these:
Even miracles have limitations, y’all. Plus, St. Peter was the dude who actually came down and re-made her boobies and I’m pretty sure Saints don’t have sex so he probably didn’t even know what they were supposed to look like. He was probably all “BANG! Pretty hot, right?” and Agatha was all “Um..huh. You know what? They’re fine. I’m not going to use them anyway.”
PS. I went just back and read the whole story and it turns out that God gave St. Agatha a miracle to make her boobs grow back but then left her in prison to die by being rolled over hot coals naked and shit. The hell? I mean, I don’t want to question miracles but maybe letting the guard forget to lock the door would have been a better one. Or maybe turning the hot coals turn into pudding. But no, God’s all “They cut off your boobs?! That shit is totally not kosher. I GRANT YOU NEW BOOBIES!” and she was probably all “Um…Thanks? But maybe I could also get out of prison?” Except probably she didn’t even say that because when God gives you a miracle you have to just smile like you love it even if it’s totally not what you wanted. And probably even when she was dying she was all “Okay, I’m gonna use the present face so I don’t hurt God’s feelings but seriously? My boobs are getting destroyed here in these hot coals too. What the hell, dude?” but probably she didn’t say it out loud because she’s a martyr and that’s what martyrs do. Except I’d totally say it out loud because “Ow.” And then maybe God would be all “OH! Crap, I’m so sorry! Brain fart. What would the point of me giving you new boobs and then letting you get tortured? What is wrong with me today?” and I’d be all “Dude. Don’t even worry about it. I’m totally having one of those days too. Also, thanks for the new boobs. Even though they kind of look like mushrooms” and he’d be all “What?” and I’d be like “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll let myself out.” Because God has more important things to worry about than my boobs. Like famine. And…locusts. And that’s why I think that maybe these mushrooms really are a sign from God. Or that they’re just mushrooms. The point is that I learned more about St. Whats-her-name and her boobs so either way, I’m spreading God’s word. They’re probably going to name a whole building for me in Heaven.
Comment of the day: Maybe God told Peter to give her saline implants. It would put out the fire, be deemed a miracle. Win/win. St. Peter. He’s always fucking things up. ~ Dingo