The Zit On My Back Could Be A Ski Hill For The Next Winter Olympics

I currently have a back boil that’s bubbling up like some natural spring on the side of a country road that hippies wait in line like three days for, just to fill a canteen made from a camel’s ballsack full of germ infested creek water that the same type of dipshit takes his monthly bathes in. Anyway, I have a zit on my back so large it could house a family of parrots, from the midwest. That mountainous. In fact, if my back zit was a ski hill, there’d be no safe enough place to put a bunny hill. Black diamonds only. This sucker is that steep. It’s as if there was a registrable amount of weight in upset ooze underneath the surface, pushing 24/7. Prodding. Pleading. Persuading the skin to set it free. Slowly but surely.

Actual photo of the pimple on my back

If my back bump was the type you see on residential roads to deter speeders, everyone would be driving slower than your grandma when she’s pulling out of a parking lot while simultaneously flipping down the sun shade, putting on her sunglasses and combing the thirteen strands of still pliable hair she has, all while letting the weight of nothing but her mangled foot and slipper shoe push down on the pedal.

If my back… you get the point.

It’s that big. Thanks for reading.