The adventures of Simon The Hemorrhoid.
1 - It was a long struggle. He could scarcely remember breathing, let alone being born. All he could remember was pushing, pushing, pushing - pushing against a vile wall of flesh and tissue that smelt disgusting, that smell, constantly punishing him, making him want to die, to push forward, always forward, through the confines that had kept him in situ for too long, he wanted to push, push, puuuushh...
2 - The next thing he remembered was breathing the free air. It was like nothing he had ever scented before. No more the closed in, salt-infused darkness, rank with the stench of feces (those vile, grinning little bastards that always teased him as they went past - "we're free, you not!" they would screech in their stupid voices as they pushed past every bit of him, leaving him to his imprisoned misery), no more the confines of some stupid human body. He could stand on his own two, albeit barely formed feet, staring about himself, looking around, finding the light coming from a window, tentatively toddling towards it to look out to find -
Bastards! There they were, all along. Of course they had been ganging up to wait for him. A huge pile of feces, all stinking in their self satisfaction, happily glowing in the sun, letting of streams of steam, suffocating everything around them, closing in the air, reminding Simon of his previous prison (who now lay dying, bleeding out of it's puckered arsehole), mocking him, daring him to take them on...
"We're free, not you!"
