Asses within asses

Yesterday I was in the cooler at work, freezing my ass off.  Not my fingers, although they would probably beg to differ, or my legs, or my hair or arms or lungs or my Islands of Langerhans.  No, it was my ass which was in immediate peril.  My balls came in a close second.  Ass and balls, the two body parts which are the first to abandon ship when things get a little uncomfortable.  Why is that?  It's one of lifes great unanswered questions, I suppose.  If only my ass could talk.  I'm sure my balls would be feeding lines to it; the two do spend a lot of time together.  On second thought, nevermind.  I have enough to deal with already, what with my eyes and brain in cahoots, always joking around, hiding my lighters and sunglasses.  Fuck them, I say. 

Anywho.  Like I said, in the cooler.  So I'm lifting this tripple decked case of something or another, and suddenly my back joins in!  Back, what have I ever done to you?  Oh, you mean besides putting 73 tons on me just now?  Yeah, besides that.  Well, you never had me waxed like you promised.  Oh...

So now here I am, lying in bed in excruciating pain, with my back making up for 25 years of empty promises.  My balls and eyes and brain and ass are all laughing their asses off.  Wait, there it is again.  Now I have asses within asses?  Ok I give up.  It's over.  Bye bye.