between a raq and a hard place
“i’m not wearing this.”
“you have to. it’ll be fun.”
“i’m not. it’s hot and this thing is itchy, plus it smells funny. you put it on.”
“yeah, but they want you.”
“tell them you’ll do it.”
“hey man, i ain’t tellin’ them shit. you see them. you talk to them yet?”
“no, not really.”
“fuckin’ nuts, man. completely apeshit.”
“you think? well i’m crazy, too. and i ain’t…”
“SHHH!!! do you want them to hear you? they’ll come in here and they’ll…they’ll…they’ll…”
“they’ll what? what are they gonna do?”
“they’ll shit, man. they’ll fuckin’ shit. and then they’ll kill you, and then they’ll kill me.”
“they ain’t killin’…”
“AAAAAHHHHHRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!! NO!!! PLEASE, NO!!! I PRAY TO ALLAH…”
“what was that?”
“oh, man. see. SEE!!! i told you these guys are serious.”
“you’re right. that sounded really serious.”
“see, i told you. i told you. just now, i think a little bit of pee came out.”
“what if we tell them that i’ve got the runs?”
“they don’t give a shit.”
“it’s a good excuse, though. it’s a go-to.”
“why don’t you just put that fuckin’ beard on and read whatever they put in front of you, and then we can get out of here, ok?”
“how they gonna do that? i mean, can these guys even read?”
“yes. yes, they can fuckin’ read. and they can put your fuckin’ head in a vise and go at you with some hot pokers if they want.”
“you’ve gotta admit it’s a pretty good excuse, though. it’s always worked for me.”
“put this on.”
“no.”
“yes.”
“no. not until you admit that it’s a good excuse.”
“admit what’s a good excuse?”
“admit telling someone you’ve got diarrhea is a good excuse.”
“will you put the beard on?”
“i don’t know.”
“WILL YOU PUT THE FUCKIN’ BEARD ON?”
“maybe.”
“ok…it’s a good excuse. the fuckin’ best. fuckin’ trumpets blare outta your ass when you use it. happy?”
“yeah, well…i’m not puttin’ it on.”
“WHAT?!?”
“sike. calm down. look at you. i’ll do it. but only cuz i owe ya. alright? so what should i do? i mean, should i be like ‘Hi. Maybe you’ve seen me before,’ and then start reading the cards, or what? man, i hate talking in front of…”
“will you shut the fuck up, ok? just shut the fuck up and do what they tell you.”
“why do i gotta do it?”
“cuz those guys are fuckin’ crazy, ok. besides, look at you. you’re all tall and shit. ya goofy-lookin’ bastard. i told you we shouldn’t have taken a ride with them.”
“but they had a pick-up.”
“yeah…loaded with crazies and rocket launchers.”
“there were goats, too.”
“and no bitches.”
“no bitches.”
“you ready?”
“i’m totally gettin’ into so much trouble for this.”
[this translation was sponsored by Massivefill Douche, Maybee Maxi-pads, and Super Eight-Inch Tampons Plus courtesy of your momma]
3 Comments:
you are a maniac. and i mean that in the nicest way possible.
alright you fuckhole. that was cute. now: there was a realife situation that needs a writin up. i say you pull your "joystick" from out of your ass and get to writin bout it.
and it should be called "your boy".
fuck it. i'm well on my way to butcherin it now.
as well as starting a new column.
Dok.
It should be up and running in about 19 months.
Dok
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