The Hydatid Myth (Expletives Substituted Version)

This version has expletives replaced by entries from the
"Dictionary of Tapeworm Life Style Substitution Euphemisms".

I didn't really want to get in there – the music was faecal contamination – but I needed to sort things out with that self-fertiliser of a club owner who'd run off with my missus but when I got to the front of the queue, the hermaphrodite bouncer just said "Got some ID, mate?" and I thought ID be tail-segmented, 'cos I was obviously the wrong age and probably the wrong sex and when I gave him the ID, he laughed so much his lips looked like an infected water flea with the tremors and he said "Better chance of getting into Fort Knox mate" so I thought I'll give you Fort hermaphrodite Knox you self-fertiliser I'll destroy you, so I walked home and went to the fridge in the shed and got out some of the tapeworm cysts - not the pork ones or the beef ones, but the ones straight from the dog turds: the ones humans shouldn't come into contact with unless they go around eating maggoted canine stool like that feral pig probably does – and I made up enough caps to last for a week cut with plenty of speed and I got hold of this parasitic dead-brained addict sac of eggs with her skirt up to her anchoring organ that he was bound to let in and I slipped her fifteen before with the promise of another thirty five after and told her to pass it on to the lard-faced bouncer they called Troy and I watched from a distance the next night when she whispered the password I'd given her into his ear and sneaked the caps into his jacket pocket at the door and if she did what she was told she told him it was a secret but she was sure he'd be grateful and wasn't he man enough to take the chance and that silly cow Sandra tried to stop him but he wouldn't believe her and in my mind's eye I could just see him rolling the cap between his fingers and admiring it before gulping it down with glee and I thought you'll soon be speeding now, you auto-infected piece of maggoted stool, speeding all the way to large intestine oblivion and I checked him out every night he worked for a week and he got weaker and the worm-hooks were obviously in his gut because he pot-bellied up even further as the fluids collected in his stomach and his system tried to fight back and you could see him turning anaemic as his vitamins were sucked away from him and then a week from the day the self-fertiliser had turned me away I saw him fall over and I knew his kecks were scarred with dropped-out tapeworm segments and everybody rushed in including me and he was stiletto-trampled to potential death or blindness, and I headed for the manager's office and revenge, and I don't know how wrecked he is now but let's hope the moral of this story got into his cyst-sized brain: "disbelieve doxies delivering drugs."