So I was going through some old stuff when I came across this doozy from earlier in the year.
It’s a classic. One of the best I’ve ever written.
My guts were boiling.
I climbed out of bed, dropped my pants, and evacuated my bowels. It was a good shit.
Afterwards, I shaved my balls. And ass. I climbed in the shower and measured my penis: 3.5 inches soft, 5in hard (5 1/4in from the taint).
I shoved some eggs and toast down my throat and grabbed a coffee. As I was walking out to the driveway, my neighbor confronted me.
“If you blast your radio at 2am again, I am calling the cops!” he said.
I pulled out my Glock. “Look buddy,” I replied, “you’re on my property. That means I have the right to unleash holy hell right into your skull. So don’t fuck with me!”
Then I got into my car and turned up the radio. I bounced up and down all the way to work to the sound of ‘Big Fat Funky Booty’ by the Spin Doctors on repeat.
When I arrived, I walked into the office. “Hey baby,” I said to the receptionist, “when are you gonna give me a shot at those titties?”
“I’ve already reported you to Human Resources,” she replied. “Please don’t speak to me.”
“You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart,” I said.
I went to my desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch. “A little early in the morning for that, isn’t it Bill?” my boss asked.
“You know I’m never sober before 8am, Dick,” I replied.
“Damn it Bill! I should fire you but you always do your best work drunk.”
“Thanks Dick. Say, when am I getting that raise?”
“Once when we get those lawsuits settled from all the faulty products you designed, you’ll get a 20% raise.”
“Fuckin snowflakes,” I said. “A little cancer never hurt anyone.”
“I think the judge will agree,” Dick replied. “He should. We paid him enough money.”
“Thanks Dick. You’re the best.”
Dick went back to his office and I pulled up porn on my work computer. It was a productive day.
So my Audi was doing 95 through a school zone when I went around a flashing red bus. An officer pulled me over.
“License and registration please.”
“Sorry Officer, I’m driving on a suspended license due to numerous DUI arrests,” I said. “Also, this vehicle is registered to my ex-wife. I stole it from her because she accused me of domestic abuse.”
“Well slow down,” he replied. And I was on my merry way.
When I pulled into the driveway, my neighbor was waiting on me. “Don’t ever pull a gun on my husband again!” she yelled.
“Bitch! This is America!” I replied. Then I fired an entire clip into the air.
Later that night, my girlfriend gave me oral. When she asked me to return the favor, I said, “Heh, no thanks. I gotta kiss my mother with this mouth.”
Then I went to sleep.
“You can’t use racial slurs in conference calls!” the Human Resource officer told me.
“Susan, stop,” I said, “you know how much you turn me on when you’re angry.”
“I’m afraid that you will be suspended without pay until the Board decides what to do with you,” she responded.
“I’m not racist!” I declared. “I was simply stating what the Papa John’s guy said in HIS racist phone call!”
“You are hereby suspended. Please vacate the premise.”
“Bitch,” I said as I stood up.
I was so upset that I got drunk and drove to a cockfight. As I was placing a bet, my friend Don noticed something was wrong.
“What’s on your mind Bill?” Don asked as we were sharing a crack pipe.
“I don’t know anymore Don,” I said. “I feel like I’m stalling. All I’m doing is filling my time with sex, drugs, and absurd behavior. It’s gotten me nowhere. I don’t ask for much. All I really want is a quiet life. Sounds simple enough but I can’t seem to get out of my own way. I’m lost and the walls are crumbling all around me. Is it possible Don? Is it possible that I am the problem?”
Don took a hit off the pipe and thought for a moment.
“Nah,” he finally said.
“You’re probably right.”
Then we picked up some hookers off skid row.
After returning home from my weekly STD checkup, there was a package on my doorstep. It was addressed to my neighbor, but I took inside and opened it anyway.
In the box was a stuffed teddy bear and a letter from someone named “grandma”. I thought that was a stupid name but continued reading anyway. The letter said:
Grandma and grandpa love you very much. We hope that you feel better soon.
Grandma and Grandpa
I put the contents back into the box and poured a drink. I was supposed to start taking medication for something called “syphilis” but I threw that shit into the trash.
“Maybe I should return the box,” I thought. But I wasn’t so sure. I lit up a cigarette, shot up heroin, took a bump of coke, played a round of Russian Roulette, then taped up the box.
As I was laying the box on their doorstep, my neighbor opened the door. “Get the fuck off my porch,” he said.
“This is YOUR package asshole!” I replied. “UPS wrongly dropped it off at my house.”
“Why should I believe you?” he asked after he pulled out his .38. “You’ve played your drums, lit off fireworks, and engaged in target practice with your shotgun at ungodly hours of the night. You’ve also ding dong ditched my ass, stole my WiFi, and played peeping Tom on my wife. Well guess what PAL! You’re now on MY property and am well within MY right to blast YOUR ass!”
I raised my hands. “Now calm down John,” I said. “We’re both sensible adults. We can talk this out.”
“No,” he replied. “I’M the sensible adult. You’re an asshole.”
John then fired his .38 into my gut and I laid there bleeding out in his front yard. He picked up the package and opened it.
“Well I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he said, “you finally did something right in your life.”
I lifted my head up while holding my guts in. “Please call an ambulance John,” I said.
“Sure, I’ll get right on that.” John then looked up into the sky and smiled. “It’s nice finally getting some peace and quiet around here,” he said.
He went back inside and shut the door.