my brain just threw up a little…

October 31, 2009


Filed under: Uncategorized — Sol @ 8:39 pm

knock knock – who is there – we are here for free candy – fuck you in your fat face, get lost!

Dog goes nuts, there are people at the door. I open the door. There is a group of three-foot tall chubsters dressed the part for halloween, all chaperoned by their pudgy greasy fuckfaced parental unit. One Pudgy breeder per bundle of gluttonous underage freeloaders. Discombobulated chorus of little voices groans “trick or treat…” One of them hiccuped, the rest stuck their bags and pumpkins out. Moment stretches forever… Casting frown and reaching behind my back as if about to grab something I growl “Trick.” Parental unit nearly has a stroke and begins to usher vampiric blobs of lard off of my porch while obviously biting it’s tongue. After leaving my porch, parental unit flips me off and lips “asshole!” while moving to the neighbors house. I smile. I nod. I follow unseen. Inside the door of my house I already have a backpack that has freshly mixed two cans of Chunky, smarties, assorted hard candy, some ground up Crunch, and a can of flat cola, all mixed into a triple stacked condom. For those without experience in this matter – condoms are not just for sex. They can be used for storage. Put a condom inside a condom, inside a condom and…. it will hold over a gallon of water without breaking. Condom-stack with liquid is placed inside a rubber bucket. Bucket is inside the backpack along with ductape, twine, spare lighter, and a paperclip. So, follow the parental unit at a good distance. Note the house in which he/she lives. Come back at about 4AM with your backpack. Leave your car’s window cracked open just a little. I put the end of the twine through the opening in my car’s window leaving the spool inside the car. It unwound as I approached the porch with the rubber bucket.  I plant the payload at the top of their porch’s steps leaving the end of the twine with the paperclip on the twine resting under the blob. Back to the car, yanked twine rips the rubbers, and I drive off. Flip me off next year… that’s if you live long enough without dropping with a fucking heart-attack, you pudgy fuck. If I could donate a stairmaster I would give one to your kids, just to make sure they do not end up like you. (although they are well on their fucking way)

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