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Justice for Kevin Human!

by Luke Homans

Everyone has a hero. Some of those heroes are a little bit mustier than others. However the mustiest of them all, and coincidentally the hero-est, was local Ann Arbor legend and reformed Geneva convention violator Kevin “Gaping Asshole Man” Human. Kevin was an upstanding member of our little community, and, quite frankly, one of the vertebrae in its backbone.

One fateful night last week, Kevin was engaging in consensual marital sex with his wife, Dr. Rutherford B. Hayes (not to be confused with Rutherford B. Hayes, the nineteenth president of the United States). Upon commencement of said activities, Rutherford’s pager buzzed and she leapt up, hurriedly redressing and rushing out the door for a “pastry related immolation emergency.” Kevin continued to lay there, asshole agape, nude but unashamed as he was in his own home. While inconvenient the timing of his wife’s paging, he was unbothered as he understood the significance of his wife’s job and her dedication to the well-being and betterment of humanity.

However, this would be, tragically, the last time his wife would see him alive.

Kevin was a street performer by vocation, his performance one that inspired thousands across the metro-Detroit area every day. If you, the reader, have never had your eyes graced with this performance, a sight that can only be described as high-art in its purest, most unadulterated form, I pity you. There is very little left in this life worth seeing now that Kevin’s yawning sphincter has been so cruelly stripped from our mortal plain.

The afternoon prior to the aforementioned fateful night, Kevin was out on the street of Ann Arbor, specifically the corner of State and East William, peddling his wares. His wares, of course, was his awe inspiring performance; an act that involved him lying prone, face down upon the ground, as if drunk, fully clothed with the exception of his waistband, which would be positioned beneath his supple ass-cheeks, displaying the tepid crevasse that bestowed upon him his namesake.

Customarily, those passing by would, upon the realization of the depth and nuance of Kevin’s revolutionary statement about society, feel compelled to make a donation to fund his hard work. While most buskers may have an upturned hat or a guitar case, the only concave cavern capable of containing currency was, coincidentally, Kevin’s quivering chasm.

While it was only human instinct that fathered this practice, Kevin adopted it happily, something that would later prove to be his undoing. You see, inexplicably, at some point in his fruitful and philanthropic life, Kevin made an enemy. On the day of Kevin’s passing, the enemy suppositied him more than just his gratuity; inside the rolled up dollar bill was a poisonous capsule, the thing that would later take his life that night. Had his wife been around, she could have saved him with ease, as she was very familiar with his cavity.

We, Kevin’s family and friends, are writing this petition to gain more funding into the investigation surrounding his death. We believe that Kevin’s poisoning, combined with the fact that his wife was called away at the exact time when he would have needed saving, is more than a coincidence. We called the police, but upon arriving all they did was call me a slur and shoot the neighbor’s dog, so we are at our wits end. You are our last resort, internet.

And finally, to Kevin’s killer. If you are reading this, you have hurt this family more than you could ever comprehend. Every day we continuously lament, screaming at the sky, wishing that instead of the poison, you could have inserted just the tip.

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