(no subject)
As I run through the dark streets of Ypsilanti I can't but help and wonder, where the fuck are my pants? I am wearing my shoes and socks, my shirt is on and my right hand clutches my wallet while my keys are locked into the fingers of my left hand. I sprint furiously, like the hounds of hell are at my heels... well they shure as shit might be, but there is no way I am going to take a look over my shoulder. I sprint faster and faster, my energy in not waining, but I still can't remember why the fuck I am running with no pants. I know why I started running, those fucking squirrels were seeking revenge; let me ask how teh fuck do the squirrles in Ypsi, which is 60 miles from Rochester know that I stomped one of their own. How in the hell does a message like that travel in the squirrell world? Well it doesn't really matter how the message got this far, because I am booking with the knowledge that there are about 300 ravenous rat fucks behind me that can climb trees and jump out at any given notice. Still, where the fuck did my pants go? I'm not drunk am I? Well hell it is a possibility, I am running north on Hamilton away from downtown and the bar scene, but I am not stumbling. Was I at a party? What time is it What day is it? Too many questions to be asking right now, because I can out of the corner of my eye the black shadow of 300 + squirrells closing in on me and my half naked ass. I am trying to keep my seed up, but I have been going full tilt for about four blocks now, I am so doomed, by fucking squirrells none the less. Well at least my junk looks good flopping around, damn its a good day; too bad I will not get to use it on a lady tonight since I am pretty sure the little furry fuckers behind me are going to chew it off once they catch up, which seems like it will be happening pretty soon here. Fuck I am getting a side cramp, thats gonna slow me down. Goddamnit I wish I knew what time it was, if it was still early enough I could duck into one of the buildings and hopefully avoid the little ravenous bastards. Shit my left calf is cramping up, fuck I am stumbling... and I am down. Well here it comes, a shit-ton of furry little bodies, all pissed and hungry for my dick (not in the good way). It all goes black and all I can feel is fur and teeth; where the fuck are my pants?
I just saw dave chappell on the fist episode of season four of def comedy jam. It was the funniest shit ever considering the first poem he read was called "Fuck Ashton Kutcher." God I hope he keeps doing comedy and stops thinking he needs to get off pot.
I just saw dave chappell on the fist episode of season four of def comedy jam. It was the funniest shit ever considering the first poem he read was called "Fuck Ashton Kutcher." God I hope he keeps doing comedy and stops thinking he needs to get off pot.