I have never experienced a moodswing quite like the one on my return trip from the DMV, save for the time my bitch ma cooked me some sizzling, sweet-smelling bacon, then told me I couldn't have them until I said "thank you." I don't do manners, especially after getting teased out of a crispy treat. Needless to say, I slapped the bitch and ate what was rightfully mine. Anyway, I was super pissed off until I passed my favorite eatery: Chuckie Fuckin' Cheese. That moment brought me a fucking epiphany.
I stopped and parked in a handicap slot, kicked open the door to make sure those toddlers knew who was boss, and swaggered up to the hostess.
"Gimme five gallons of liquid cheese. And no pussyfooting, I'm in a hurry." Puzzled, and obviously in awe of my gorgeous aesthetics, she muttered, "Ummm...I'll see what I can do."
She returned with a plastic barrel the size of my boner that morning... 3ft. 5in. I relayed this to her, told a hot babe to call me in about fifteen years and walked out.
In the car I chugged. Chugged like that time in college when I downed four glasses of water-I did it really, really fast. When I felt a churning in my gut, I grabbed my extremely voluminous safebox and sharted until that thing was fully capacitated. Now, with ammo loaded, I threw on my Bin Laden disuise (sidenote: I fuggin' love Amurica and hate that sand-lovin' camel-humper so don't be alarmed) and drove back to the DMV. I snuck in and went to the vents with the safebox and just smeared 5 gallons of steamy, liquid shit around the fuckin place. Since I've became completely immune to my smell, I just watched as the line slowly dissapated. Chuckling at every horrified face staggering out.
Once everyone left, I patiently awaited for emergency services to investigate the stench. Sitting on the waiting bench, grinning ear-to-ear, I was unmoved at the arrival of two policemen and a firefighter. Startled, they jumped back and drew their guns.
"Get on the floor, NOW!" one of them yelled.
"Hello, Boys," I torted, "I've been expecting you." Their faces palled and their bodies began to shake. I moved towards them slowly.
"You can't kill me," I murmured, pointing at their weapons. "I'm a ghost. Leave right now or you'll all be toast." They disappeared faster than Lebron James' morals (But seriously, what is it with that guy? Don't athletes have any decency anymore? Makes me sick.) Anyway, with the authorities gone, I hopped over the desk, jumped on a computer and made myself a fuckng license.
This is how shit gets done. Kids, take notice.