OK, this is the worst Assman ever. There will never be anything worse than this. Consider this category condemned, with extreme prejudice.
I wasn't really expecting this, but now that I've seen it I see that there was really no reason to ever expect anything less. Fuck, I should have known. Well, that's it for the Assmen, I guess.
It's all my fault. I broke the Ass machine. The Vegas Principle should have given me enough forewarning to deal with something as hideous as this thing. In Vegas, for example, there's a real chance every time you pull the handle on the slot machine that the handle will just fall off... or your arm... or you might just fall right off your stool, where you'll slump to the ground with a wet, sucking sound and puddle into a thin layer of boozy flesh, but they won't let you lay there for long. Oh no. Vegas has a very efficient method for dealing with human puddles of goo. Pretty soon you're vacuumed up by a big metal robot and sent off to the Soylent Green factory. You won't remember anything again. But don't let that, ah, unpleasantness disturb you. Just keep it weird enough to hold yourself together. Just keep pulling that handle. You might just win big. Vegas loves a risk-taker.
Like me. Behold the link. The Final Assman. There are no more.
