My Bench, Bitch
Hello Billians,
I'm typing this from a pay-as-you-go internet thing in a nerdy computer bar somewhere in Texas. I'm not sure how much time I've got left since I spent most of it looking for pictures of big giant boobs to keep me sane first.
Not much luck. I've seen pictures of chicks with giant, hairy aerolas or nip tips that could poke a motherfucker's eye out. Terrible, terrible tits.
In case you haven't been keeping up, I'm on the run from the cops back in Jersey. I kind of went too far when I quit/got fired and well, now I'm a fugitive. At least for a little while.
I'm heading to California to meet up with Murray, his main pump Heather and some Mary broad that I guess is anxious to meet me. I hope I'll get a chance to take a shower and wash off my piss stick first. I smell like a sack of trash with on legs with a head up top.
Hitchhiking is for the fucking birds. I don't recommend it. More on that later.
I also got in another fight with a hobo. Ever since I've gotten fired/quit, the money has been a little thin. That being said, I'm sleeping where I can on park benches and the like.
Well, some old, crusty, toothless no-job son of a bitch tried to roust me from a semi-decent slumber. Who knew these smelly pricks could be so picky about their 'space?' Needless to say, I broke his liquor-filled nose and pushed him into an empty fountain. He was bleeding pretty good, but I don't think he'll do much. When he tried to talk, I couldn't understand him anyway. Not sure he'll go to the cops and give me up.
I'm guessing his tough-guy days are over. He can't back his shit up as well as he thought. Yeah, that's right Stinky Joe, I'm talking about you.
Shit. A warning is telling me that my time is almost up. To those wondering about the t-shirt contest, I've picked a winner, but I gotta wait until I get back home to announce it and send it off. I think I made the right choice.
Keep your ass clean,
Bill Tabernacle
I'm typing this from a pay-as-you-go internet thing in a nerdy computer bar somewhere in Texas. I'm not sure how much time I've got left since I spent most of it looking for pictures of big giant boobs to keep me sane first.
Not much luck. I've seen pictures of chicks with giant, hairy aerolas or nip tips that could poke a motherfucker's eye out. Terrible, terrible tits.
In case you haven't been keeping up, I'm on the run from the cops back in Jersey. I kind of went too far when I quit/got fired and well, now I'm a fugitive. At least for a little while.
I'm heading to California to meet up with Murray, his main pump Heather and some Mary broad that I guess is anxious to meet me. I hope I'll get a chance to take a shower and wash off my piss stick first. I smell like a sack of trash with on legs with a head up top.
Hitchhiking is for the fucking birds. I don't recommend it. More on that later.
I also got in another fight with a hobo. Ever since I've gotten fired/quit, the money has been a little thin. That being said, I'm sleeping where I can on park benches and the like.
Well, some old, crusty, toothless no-job son of a bitch tried to roust me from a semi-decent slumber. Who knew these smelly pricks could be so picky about their 'space?' Needless to say, I broke his liquor-filled nose and pushed him into an empty fountain. He was bleeding pretty good, but I don't think he'll do much. When he tried to talk, I couldn't understand him anyway. Not sure he'll go to the cops and give me up.
I'm guessing his tough-guy days are over. He can't back his shit up as well as he thought. Yeah, that's right Stinky Joe, I'm talking about you.
Shit. A warning is telling me that my time is almost up. To those wondering about the t-shirt contest, I've picked a winner, but I gotta wait until I get back home to announce it and send it off. I think I made the right choice.
Keep your ass clean,
Bill Tabernacle