Peter Acted Like A Shithead Back in February
A/N: Rewrite of Peter Acts Like A Shithead
The Main Thing Peter and Politicians Had In Common: They Acted Like Shitheads
Peter was once again sitting at his computer, but this time he was typing like a normal human being. Holy Shit! Peter knew how to type!
"Holy Shit, Peter! You can type?" I asked as I walked over to him. "I thought you were legitimately retarded."
"Fuck you, Xara," Peter said as he continued typing yet another novel called Artie Wonderbloom and the Orange Orangutan. "You're as obnoxious as Donald Trump. The bastard obstructed justice yet again. I'm writing about his masturbatory self-congratulation and trying to figure out how to convince him to stop being President. Artie Wonderbloom somehow calls all other leaders of the United Nations to convince them to try to assassinate Donald Trump." No one hated Donald Trump more than Peter did... except my friend, Roberta.
Roberta was a witness who testified against Donald Trump in the impeachment trial. She provided evidence that he actually was in cohoots with the Russians and Ukranians for rigging the election. She provided testimony that Hilary Clinton did indeed win the popular vote and argued that the electoral college cockblocked the Democrats from winning yet another election. It was very moving to watch her testify alongside Adam Schiff.
"That sounds like a kickass novel," I said as I kicked his shin. "But seriously, the impeachment trial was just a distraction from us knowing that the Hunger Games are actually starting as we speak."
"Uhhhh yeah! Duh. Pfft. As if I didn't know. How retarded do you think I am?!" Peter said as he saved his document and looked at me square in the face.
"I think you're a fucking idiot to tell the truth," I said with a silly grin.
"Well, I think you're an invasive fucking bitch to tell the truth," he said as he widened his eyes.
"I thought we were friends, Peter," I said.
"Please! If we were friends, then I wouldn't find you so goddamn invasive. See how that works?!" Peter responded with a goofy smile.
"Holy Shit, you're logical? Who would have thought?!" I asked.
"Piss off," Peter said.
"I do have to pee," I said as I was walking to the bathroom. I mimicked his constant whistling.
"Oh Gawddddd!!" Peter said as he rolled his green eyes and just snarled at the computer screen. He shook his fist and grimaced.
I was away from him for a moment and then went to the bathroom.
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A giraffe bleated during the intermission.
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I walked back and then continued to egg him on. "You should add me as a character of your novel. I would be an improvement," I said with a giggle and a huge grin.
"Um. No. You would NOT. To be honest, you're impossible. You're as impossible as the Hunger Games, Donald Trump, and the fucking IceCapades!" He was making dramatic hand gestures.
"You're impossible, too! How the fuck am I invasive when your DUMBASS invited me over?!" I asked as I stuck my tongue at him. "Your logic SUCKS!"
"Because you're like totally up in my private shit all the time because you're not a Boomer like I am. Duh. Like, how do you not know Boomer customs and lingos by now. Fucking slow learner," he said.
"Oh PISS THE FUCK OFF, Peter! Your Boomer customs and lack of thought process make no logical sense to anyone with an IQ above 100!" I yelled.
"Cool! You have 120 IQ. You're so smart! Go use your "intelligence" for something more useful than reminding me every other day how "idiotic" I am because my IQ is 99. I know I'm an underachiever despite my PROLIFIC writing, artistic, and MODELING career. Not to mention how much FUCKING DRYWALL I HAVE FUCKING PUT UP WITH BOB THE GODDAMN BUILDER! But I'm an idiot. Okay. Welcome to Inverse Logic Land with Xara Nahara Campinelli! Fuck offffff!!!" Peter went on a tirade.
"Fuck you, Peter, you self-centered curly-haired Boomer idiotic Mama's Boy ape jerk turd-for-brains dickhead!!! I yelled.
"Well, FUCK YOU, Xara, you self-indulgent straight-haired MILLENNIAL???? Whatever the FUCK you are, you selfish self-centered self bitch cunt wench witch bitch... Invader Bitch!!!" he yelled as he pushed himself away from the computer and stood up to stare at me.
"Maybe we should get into a fist fight," I said as I looked up at him.
"Good idea, but first, I am going to use the bathroom. My bowels are about to explode," he said as he walked away and whistled while giving me the middle finger.
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A giraffe bleated in the intermission for a straight two minutes.
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We were in the front yard getting ready to fight backwoods Georgia style.
"Sorry, Lady, I had to empty out half of my large intestine! That would be too much shit even for you. It was bad enough when we were trapped in the sewer," Peter said as he was ready to fight me.
"Yeah, when we were actually friends," I said as I took a swing at the tall jerk.
"Yeah, those were the days. And then you became Invader Xara somehow. And somehow we became like this," he said as he took my hand and blocked my punch. He then kicked me.
I looked over to him before I kicked him. "Can't say I know how," I said as I grunted. "You're a bastard."
"Who knows? We hate each other," he said.
We started punching each other and grunting.
"You know, I used to like you, but then you became a real bitch. What the fuck?!" Peter screamed.
I tackled him. "And maybe I have always liked you, too," I said. "Maybe I still do, even if you are being an idiot asshole to me lately."
"Strange. You never were so offended before when I have been my typical idiot asshole self," Peter said as he pushed me off of him gently. "What changed?"
"Angelina, my sister-in-law, passed away, so I am jumpy. No one cares except King Joebearcow and a few friends," I said as I looked up to him. Pauno was the friend that cared the most. He would mediate well if he were here.
"Oh yeah, that's right. No wonder the Secret American Society of Sexually-Frustrated Goats meetings stopped for a few months," Peter said. "That explains why your stories are even worse than usual. All you write about lately is death and the world being on fucking fire," he said.
"Yeah, it sucks! THE WORLD IS ON FUCKING FIRE!!!" I said loudly.
"But at least it's warm," Peter said with a shrug.
"Fuck you. Who cares if it's warm? The world is still burning and is on fucking fire. A spade is a spade, old man. It isn't a fucking club with points! It's a goddamn spade! There is no reframing this bullshit situation. Reframing is a new trend in psychology. It's all the rage now! It's great and wonderful, really, but I'm not jumping on some psycho band wagon. Good God gramps! I worked hard all my life! I don't need to give into society now!" I ranted.
"Oh God. Gloom and Doom! The Apocalypse! The Revelation! The End Is Near! Yes, yes, yes! What the actual fuck do you want me to do about it?!" Peter asked as he threw his arms up.
"Ummm... Spread the word! Quit giving me a hard time about *everything* I fucking do!" I said.
"Yeah, okay. I'll work on a serenade about Angelina's life and times, to start healing the world," Peter said as he rolled his eyes.
"Oh fuck you. I'm being serious!" I screamed.
"SUUUUREEE!!! If you will shut the fuck up about gloom and Doom, the Revelation, the world being on fucking fire, the IceCapades, and the Goddamn Hunger Game Series by Suzanne Collins, I'll sing the mother-fucking songs!" Peter yelled before he took a deep breath and yelled again. 'I KNOW THE WORLD IS GLOOM AND DOOM AND MISERY AND CLIMATE CHANGE! I PLAY THE VIDEO by BILL NYE THE ASSHOLE EVERY FUCKING HOUR ON THE HOUR! MY DAAAAAAAD IS ON THE VERGE OF IMPENDING DEATH AND MY MAAAHHHHMM IS ANGRY ALL THE TIME AT MILLENNIUM PEOPLE AND DOCTORS! MY PARENTS ARE OLD AND HAVE ALMOST SLIPPED ON ANOTHER PLANE OF REALITY! But nobody cares about THAT!!!"
I stared at him with an expression of "..." before I said, "I do..., dude. But, what the actual fuck do you want me to do?!"
"Ugh. Tone it down on the "world is on fucking fire" bullshit. And... Try not to look at my parents if possible. Their looks can kill," he started to say.
I laughed my ass off and hugged him.
"I'm serious! I died a few times myself with the look they gave me when I told them I ate all the mayonnaise. Holy Shit! Don't eat mayonnaise in my house!" Peter went on a tirade.
I cracked up laughing.
"And don't show emotion, either. That's offensive! I don't even fucking care about that side of the house right now!" Peter said. "Fuck 'em!"
"Yeah, tell me about it," I said as I shook my head and brushed myself off.
"Hmmm. Yeah, we better get back to work before something else happens," he said as he headed back toward his side of the house.
"Yeah. All this arguing and ranting is making me tired," I said. It was true. Peter wore me out when he and I would argue.
"You're so weird. This is weird. I never had a woman who aggravated me as much as you do... And I have interacted with women A LOT!" Peter said as he opened the door and looked at me. "But for *some* reason, I like you. You're the only woman who has stimulated my mind this much. I daresay that if you weren't already married, I would have already fallen in love with you."
I walked in the door and went to sip on my coffee I had on his desk. "And I have to admit, I enjoy arguing with you as much as it wears me out. You're a challenge, but one I look forward to when I wake up," I said as I looked up at him and smirked.
"I love the way your mind works," he said as he stood next to me as he leaned on his desk with his left arm. He looked directly at me with a grin.
"Thank you," I said as I sipped on my coffee. "I love the way your mind works, too, even if sometimes it doesn't."
Peter giggled and shook his head. "Fuck you," he said with a smile.
"That's my husband's job," I said as I winked at him.
"Apparently. Teehee," he said as he stared at me with a grin and intense green eyes as he placed his palms on either side of me on the desk.
"So do you still go to therapy?" I asked as I squeezed his hand.
"No way. That relationship fizzled out after the insurance ran out. Turns out she just wanted my money," he said with a grin.
I laughed. "Oh Peter. I knew you were fucking your therapist," I said as I finished my coffee and started to dust mop the floor.
"Not even, to Tell the Truth," he said as he sat at his computer to continue to write.
"But, she must also think you're hot, too, considering SHE GAVE YOU A CAR!!!! Are you sure it wasn't YOU who wanted HER money?" I asked.
"Fuck you," he said as he rolled his eyes.
"Oh Boo Hoo. You can get any girl you want any time." I said as I ran a finger along his arm. "Talk about first world problems."
"Yes. I talk to her about my first world problems because at least she gets paid to hear about them...enough," Peter said as his eyes were constantly rolling.
"I doubt that," I said as I stared at him with a chuckle.
He snorted and continued typing furiously.
I stared at him as I continued to dust mop his floor.
He blinked and paused. "King Joebearcow is very lucky to have you as his servant queen," he said as he looked at me.
"He agrees," I said. "And I am lucky to have him as my King Bear."
"At least he gets laid on a regular basis," Peter said before he continued to type.
"Not as much as you'd think. Time travel and balancing the universe takes up our energy," I said before I paused. Then I spoke again, "I love having a bear for a husband. Animals are great for mental support. He is also smarter than you and me combined..."
"Unfortunately true, although your true IQ score doesn't add much," he said with a giggle.
"Uhhhgggggghhhh... you're so good at being such an asshole," I said as I left to get a mop.
"Haha. I would hope so. I've been an asshole for 58 years," Peter called.
"You are truly ridiculous," I said as I "mopped" his god-forsaken laminate floor.
"Yeah, I know," he said with a huge smile.
I was growling as I tried to mop the laminate floor. You can't use hardly any water on laminate floors. The plastic of the stupidass laminate starts to separate from the ground. So I was using a solution with a damp mop. There were streaks everywhere on the floor that pissed me off.
I screamed, "I HATE THIS FLOOR!!!"
"What do you want me to do about it?" Peter asked as he snarled. He, too, hated that floor.
"I want you to rip it up, replace it with actual hardwood, and then burn the remnants of the laminate," I said as I continued with that stupid mop. This part of the job was fucking stupid.
"I would if I could, trust me. This floor caused more stress and agony than I care to admit," he said with laugh.
As we were laughing and hating this floor, Godiva burst through the door. "You're not going to believe this! Glenn just passed away!" She yelled as her eyes were wide with shock.
(Glenn was Geoffrey's father. Geoffrey is my ex-boyfriend from Middle School who became Elon Musk's right hand man.)
The Main Thing Peter and Politicians Had In Common: They Acted Like Shitheads
Peter was once again sitting at his computer, but this time he was typing like a normal human being. Holy Shit! Peter knew how to type!
"Holy Shit, Peter! You can type?" I asked as I walked over to him. "I thought you were legitimately retarded."
"Fuck you, Xara," Peter said as he continued typing yet another novel called Artie Wonderbloom and the Orange Orangutan. "You're as obnoxious as Donald Trump. The bastard obstructed justice yet again. I'm writing about his masturbatory self-congratulation and trying to figure out how to convince him to stop being President. Artie Wonderbloom somehow calls all other leaders of the United Nations to convince them to try to assassinate Donald Trump." No one hated Donald Trump more than Peter did... except my friend, Roberta.
Roberta was a witness who testified against Donald Trump in the impeachment trial. She provided evidence that he actually was in cohoots with the Russians and Ukranians for rigging the election. She provided testimony that Hilary Clinton did indeed win the popular vote and argued that the electoral college cockblocked the Democrats from winning yet another election. It was very moving to watch her testify alongside Adam Schiff.
"That sounds like a kickass novel," I said as I kicked his shin. "But seriously, the impeachment trial was just a distraction from us knowing that the Hunger Games are actually starting as we speak."
"Uhhhh yeah! Duh. Pfft. As if I didn't know. How retarded do you think I am?!" Peter said as he saved his document and looked at me square in the face.
"I think you're a fucking idiot to tell the truth," I said with a silly grin.
"Well, I think you're an invasive fucking bitch to tell the truth," he said as he widened his eyes.
"I thought we were friends, Peter," I said.
"Please! If we were friends, then I wouldn't find you so goddamn invasive. See how that works?!" Peter responded with a goofy smile.
"Holy Shit, you're logical? Who would have thought?!" I asked.
"Piss off," Peter said.
"I do have to pee," I said as I was walking to the bathroom. I mimicked his constant whistling.
"Oh Gawddddd!!" Peter said as he rolled his green eyes and just snarled at the computer screen. He shook his fist and grimaced.
I was away from him for a moment and then went to the bathroom.
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A giraffe bleated during the intermission.
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I walked back and then continued to egg him on. "You should add me as a character of your novel. I would be an improvement," I said with a giggle and a huge grin.
"Um. No. You would NOT. To be honest, you're impossible. You're as impossible as the Hunger Games, Donald Trump, and the fucking IceCapades!" He was making dramatic hand gestures.
"You're impossible, too! How the fuck am I invasive when your DUMBASS invited me over?!" I asked as I stuck my tongue at him. "Your logic SUCKS!"
"Because you're like totally up in my private shit all the time because you're not a Boomer like I am. Duh. Like, how do you not know Boomer customs and lingos by now. Fucking slow learner," he said.
"Oh PISS THE FUCK OFF, Peter! Your Boomer customs and lack of thought process make no logical sense to anyone with an IQ above 100!" I yelled.
"Cool! You have 120 IQ. You're so smart! Go use your "intelligence" for something more useful than reminding me every other day how "idiotic" I am because my IQ is 99. I know I'm an underachiever despite my PROLIFIC writing, artistic, and MODELING career. Not to mention how much FUCKING DRYWALL I HAVE FUCKING PUT UP WITH BOB THE GODDAMN BUILDER! But I'm an idiot. Okay. Welcome to Inverse Logic Land with Xara Nahara Campinelli! Fuck offffff!!!" Peter went on a tirade.
"Fuck you, Peter, you self-centered curly-haired Boomer idiotic Mama's Boy ape jerk turd-for-brains dickhead!!! I yelled.
"Well, FUCK YOU, Xara, you self-indulgent straight-haired MILLENNIAL???? Whatever the FUCK you are, you selfish self-centered self bitch cunt wench witch bitch... Invader Bitch!!!" he yelled as he pushed himself away from the computer and stood up to stare at me.
"Maybe we should get into a fist fight," I said as I looked up at him.
"Good idea, but first, I am going to use the bathroom. My bowels are about to explode," he said as he walked away and whistled while giving me the middle finger.
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A giraffe bleated in the intermission for a straight two minutes.
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We were in the front yard getting ready to fight backwoods Georgia style.
"Sorry, Lady, I had to empty out half of my large intestine! That would be too much shit even for you. It was bad enough when we were trapped in the sewer," Peter said as he was ready to fight me.
"Yeah, when we were actually friends," I said as I took a swing at the tall jerk.
"Yeah, those were the days. And then you became Invader Xara somehow. And somehow we became like this," he said as he took my hand and blocked my punch. He then kicked me.
I looked over to him before I kicked him. "Can't say I know how," I said as I grunted. "You're a bastard."
"Who knows? We hate each other," he said.
We started punching each other and grunting.
"You know, I used to like you, but then you became a real bitch. What the fuck?!" Peter screamed.
I tackled him. "And maybe I have always liked you, too," I said. "Maybe I still do, even if you are being an idiot asshole to me lately."
"Strange. You never were so offended before when I have been my typical idiot asshole self," Peter said as he pushed me off of him gently. "What changed?"
"Angelina, my sister-in-law, passed away, so I am jumpy. No one cares except King Joebearcow and a few friends," I said as I looked up to him. Pauno was the friend that cared the most. He would mediate well if he were here.
"Oh yeah, that's right. No wonder the Secret American Society of Sexually-Frustrated Goats meetings stopped for a few months," Peter said. "That explains why your stories are even worse than usual. All you write about lately is death and the world being on fucking fire," he said.
"Yeah, it sucks! THE WORLD IS ON FUCKING FIRE!!!" I said loudly.
"But at least it's warm," Peter said with a shrug.
"Fuck you. Who cares if it's warm? The world is still burning and is on fucking fire. A spade is a spade, old man. It isn't a fucking club with points! It's a goddamn spade! There is no reframing this bullshit situation. Reframing is a new trend in psychology. It's all the rage now! It's great and wonderful, really, but I'm not jumping on some psycho band wagon. Good God gramps! I worked hard all my life! I don't need to give into society now!" I ranted.
"Oh God. Gloom and Doom! The Apocalypse! The Revelation! The End Is Near! Yes, yes, yes! What the actual fuck do you want me to do about it?!" Peter asked as he threw his arms up.
"Ummm... Spread the word! Quit giving me a hard time about *everything* I fucking do!" I said.
"Yeah, okay. I'll work on a serenade about Angelina's life and times, to start healing the world," Peter said as he rolled his eyes.
"Oh fuck you. I'm being serious!" I screamed.
"SUUUUREEE!!! If you will shut the fuck up about gloom and Doom, the Revelation, the world being on fucking fire, the IceCapades, and the Goddamn Hunger Game Series by Suzanne Collins, I'll sing the mother-fucking songs!" Peter yelled before he took a deep breath and yelled again. 'I KNOW THE WORLD IS GLOOM AND DOOM AND MISERY AND CLIMATE CHANGE! I PLAY THE VIDEO by BILL NYE THE ASSHOLE EVERY FUCKING HOUR ON THE HOUR! MY DAAAAAAAD IS ON THE VERGE OF IMPENDING DEATH AND MY MAAAHHHHMM IS ANGRY ALL THE TIME AT MILLENNIUM PEOPLE AND DOCTORS! MY PARENTS ARE OLD AND HAVE ALMOST SLIPPED ON ANOTHER PLANE OF REALITY! But nobody cares about THAT!!!"
I stared at him with an expression of "..." before I said, "I do..., dude. But, what the actual fuck do you want me to do?!"
"Ugh. Tone it down on the "world is on fucking fire" bullshit. And... Try not to look at my parents if possible. Their looks can kill," he started to say.
I laughed my ass off and hugged him.
"I'm serious! I died a few times myself with the look they gave me when I told them I ate all the mayonnaise. Holy Shit! Don't eat mayonnaise in my house!" Peter went on a tirade.
I cracked up laughing.
"And don't show emotion, either. That's offensive! I don't even fucking care about that side of the house right now!" Peter said. "Fuck 'em!"
"Yeah, tell me about it," I said as I shook my head and brushed myself off.
"Hmmm. Yeah, we better get back to work before something else happens," he said as he headed back toward his side of the house.
"Yeah. All this arguing and ranting is making me tired," I said. It was true. Peter wore me out when he and I would argue.
"You're so weird. This is weird. I never had a woman who aggravated me as much as you do... And I have interacted with women A LOT!" Peter said as he opened the door and looked at me. "But for *some* reason, I like you. You're the only woman who has stimulated my mind this much. I daresay that if you weren't already married, I would have already fallen in love with you."
I walked in the door and went to sip on my coffee I had on his desk. "And I have to admit, I enjoy arguing with you as much as it wears me out. You're a challenge, but one I look forward to when I wake up," I said as I looked up at him and smirked.
"I love the way your mind works," he said as he stood next to me as he leaned on his desk with his left arm. He looked directly at me with a grin.
"Thank you," I said as I sipped on my coffee. "I love the way your mind works, too, even if sometimes it doesn't."
Peter giggled and shook his head. "Fuck you," he said with a smile.
"That's my husband's job," I said as I winked at him.
"Apparently. Teehee," he said as he stared at me with a grin and intense green eyes as he placed his palms on either side of me on the desk.
"So do you still go to therapy?" I asked as I squeezed his hand.
"No way. That relationship fizzled out after the insurance ran out. Turns out she just wanted my money," he said with a grin.
I laughed. "Oh Peter. I knew you were fucking your therapist," I said as I finished my coffee and started to dust mop the floor.
"Not even, to Tell the Truth," he said as he sat at his computer to continue to write.
"But, she must also think you're hot, too, considering SHE GAVE YOU A CAR!!!! Are you sure it wasn't YOU who wanted HER money?" I asked.
"Fuck you," he said as he rolled his eyes.
"Oh Boo Hoo. You can get any girl you want any time." I said as I ran a finger along his arm. "Talk about first world problems."
"Yes. I talk to her about my first world problems because at least she gets paid to hear about them...enough," Peter said as his eyes were constantly rolling.
"I doubt that," I said as I stared at him with a chuckle.
He snorted and continued typing furiously.
I stared at him as I continued to dust mop his floor.
He blinked and paused. "King Joebearcow is very lucky to have you as his servant queen," he said as he looked at me.
"He agrees," I said. "And I am lucky to have him as my King Bear."
"At least he gets laid on a regular basis," Peter said before he continued to type.
"Not as much as you'd think. Time travel and balancing the universe takes up our energy," I said before I paused. Then I spoke again, "I love having a bear for a husband. Animals are great for mental support. He is also smarter than you and me combined..."
"Unfortunately true, although your true IQ score doesn't add much," he said with a giggle.
"Uhhhgggggghhhh... you're so good at being such an asshole," I said as I left to get a mop.
"Haha. I would hope so. I've been an asshole for 58 years," Peter called.
"You are truly ridiculous," I said as I "mopped" his god-forsaken laminate floor.
"Yeah, I know," he said with a huge smile.
I was growling as I tried to mop the laminate floor. You can't use hardly any water on laminate floors. The plastic of the stupidass laminate starts to separate from the ground. So I was using a solution with a damp mop. There were streaks everywhere on the floor that pissed me off.
I screamed, "I HATE THIS FLOOR!!!"
"What do you want me to do about it?" Peter asked as he snarled. He, too, hated that floor.
"I want you to rip it up, replace it with actual hardwood, and then burn the remnants of the laminate," I said as I continued with that stupid mop. This part of the job was fucking stupid.
"I would if I could, trust me. This floor caused more stress and agony than I care to admit," he said with laugh.
As we were laughing and hating this floor, Godiva burst through the door. "You're not going to believe this! Glenn just passed away!" She yelled as her eyes were wide with shock.
(Glenn was Geoffrey's father. Geoffrey is my ex-boyfriend from Middle School who became Elon Musk's right hand man.)