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.

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