Monday, July 25, 2011

The Bad News

You can imagine my surprise when, after commiting such a heinous deed, I  recieved a warm welcome home from my mother. She was frolicking around like a little fucking preschooler yelling, "I'm so pwoud of my wittle boy! He's going to COLLEGE!" Flabergasted, I was almost too speechless to tell her to shut the fuck up. But I did.

"What the fuck has made you so extra delusional today. The only way I could have gotten in was if his bombshell secretary offered him a blowjob on the condition that I be accepted." I said nervously, thinking that she may be uttering the truth. And, seemingly unable to hear or comprehend my worried state, she said, "I received the call just minutes before you walked through the door. I am in disbelief. You must have nailed it! He was so funny. He said that he could tell you 'don't take shit from anyone, only give it. A most admirable character trait.' How whimsical! And I thought, 'that's my boy!' Golly, I'm so proud of you!"

I examined her wide smile (something I hadn't seen in years) and ogling eyes in disgust. I stood there horrified, realizing that for the first time in my life my rearend had failed me. My confidence was shot and my incomrehensible anger was excacerbated by bitch ma's prancing around all happy and shit. So I slapped her and headed to my lair to down my sorrows in a tin of grizzly. Four years of livin' the dream down the toilet.

Friday, July 22, 2011

The Interview

Even though I'm the most intelligent human being on the planet, bitch ma is incessantly insisting I attend college. Though I'm able to cast off her first few requests with a despondent "fuck you" or a condescending "Ya I'll go to college! Right after I pork a pig on the moon", the mild annoyance turns into an itch between the shoulder blades; one that I am unable to scratch.

To exact revenge, I decide I have to get a bit more creative by entertaining her request to fill her heart with joy, then crushing it by tarnishing the family name. No means no, ho. Since my father is on the board at Columbia, the only requirement for me to get in would be to nail the interview with the dean. And believe me, this is one interview he would never forget.

On judgment day I am more excited than a little boy whose been offered candy by a stranger driving an off-white minivan complete with fully tinted windows. Scratch that, I'm more excited than the fucking driver. Anyway, I awoke to the sunlight beaming through my windows in a mood that was uncharacteristically chipper. Especially pre-dingleberry. And I headed to my wardrobe to pick out the most dashing ensemble I could assemble.

I arrived a bit early to my destination, heading to the nearest restroom to produce a creation that would make John Crapper turn in his porcelain coffin. I concealed it tightly in a brown paper bag to mask the aroma and proceed to the room.

I opened the door slowly, taking in my surroundings. Wood-paneled floors evoked the scent of rich mahogany and walls covered with degrees evoked the stench of smugness. Though, I pretended to marvel at these pieces of paper by contorting my face in a look of awe.

"Impressive, isn't it?" he mutters with the most smug of expressions. "It certainly is sir. I hope I can achieve merely a fraction of what you have by the time I'm your age." I respond most pussily. He chuckled, and I feigned a smile as he called me over. As he reached out his hand, I walked over and very casually brought the dump filled bag into plain sight. "A present? For me?" The sucker remarked while I quickly flashed a conniving grin. "Oh yes. I made something very special. Just for you." But before he had a chance to say anything more, I whipped the bag across his face causing him to  fall to the floor with a thud, unconscious. I moseyed over to examine his poo covered face and stood over him, feeling like Tyson after he had his way with Holyfield. And to make sure he knew how much of an asshole I really am, I leaned over and whispered, "hope your day doesn't get any shittier." Then showed myself the door.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

The War

I enlisted to fight Bin Laden and his Koreans in Iraq. Upon arrival, however, they tell me the war is over and they're just spreading democracy. Cocksuckers. The only reason I joined this shit was because I got sick of Call of Duty and wanted a fo'real war...not some pussy policy implementation. So I wandered.

After a couple of days baking in the sun, getting super tan for those Afghani chicks, I saw a billboard that said, "Welcome to Afghanistan! Home of the world's finest poppy." I was ecstatic! So ecstatic, infact, that I packed a celebratory chaw and skipped my way into God's kingdom.

I have to admit, I wasn't exactly sure of what poppy was but I always heard latinas bellowing it in pornos- so I knew it had to be awesome. As I made my way to the marketplace, however, it became clear that these Afghanis did not share my enthusiasm. I received glares of disgust from the local males and though I couldn't decipher the faces of the women due to their latest weirdo fashion, I could tell they wanted my cock.

Anyway, as I gaily moseyed through the town, the crowds slowly dissipated, telling me something was up. Not thinking much of it at the time, I kept on my way seeking that elusive poppy. My mood shifted as I sensed that my presence was not welcome and that I could be in grave danger. And so I tried seeking refuge in a hospitable-looking mansion. When I was greeted at the door, however, my smile vanished and was replaced by sheer terror (similar to bitch ma's expression when she found the going away present I left in her pillow). I became transfixed by the man staring me in the face: Osama fuggin' Bin Laden.

I was fucked. He was locked and loaded and I was, let's say, a little disadvantaged. My only weapon was my God-given talent of rippin' ass and shootin' shits at the drop of a hat. I had to buy some time.
"I understand that you are going to blow me into oblivion," I start, "but I wish to ask you if I could have one last meal." He nods in approval while lowering his gun slightly. I take out the celebratory tin and shove the remains into my mouth, noticing Bin Fuckhead grimacing in horror.

"Ughhh...that must taste worse than camelshit!" As he says this, I swung my body and pulled down my trousers in one swift motion. And before he could fire a shot, I fire some ammo of my own. I catch a glimpse of the flying nuggets soaring through the air at awe-inspiring speeds. And within moments, the sandqueen lay perished on the house's welcome mat. I ran over to check for signs of life. To my relief, there was nothing but smeared poo across his face and a throat filled with some raucous nugs. Asphyxiation by shit was the apparent cause of death.