Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘funny’

“Hello?” It was a deep gravely voice.

“Dad?” David recognized the voice.

“Hey boy. How are you doing?” It was his father.

David was accustomed to talking to his parents when he was high, but, at the moment, he was sober, which was going to make things difficult. “Fine. What’s up?”

“Oh I just wanted to check up on you and see how you were.” The bedroom door swung open, momentarily filling the room with the din of about a thousand girls screaming at the top of their lungs. It closed just as quickly as it had opened, and Kari waved giddily at David. David was doing his best to push out the image of the last time he had seen her, where she had a wad of cum pooled up in her hand after blowing some guy in the parking lot. She held his wad in her palm as she came up the stairs, knocked on the door, and threatened the entire party with it before finally washing it off in the kitchen sink. David always wanted to ask her why she didn’t just spit it out or wipe it off in the parking lot, but it’s a difficult question topic to transition to. “How’s the weather? Oh, by the way, why didn’t you leave the baby batter in the bushes?” David tried to imagine what would’ve prompted her to carry a palm full of man goo from the parking lot into the apartment. He couldn’t imagine it, though. He never found himself in that situation. At least not with someone else’s spunk.

“Hi,” she squeaked.

“Son, where are you?” David almost forgot his dad was on the phone.

“I’m at Mike’s house.” This was his common excuse for everything. Mike was possibly the trustworthiest person in the world. He was universally trusted by everyone from drug dealers to overprotective parents. Not that David’s parents were overprotective; they were rather laid back. If they were overprotective, he couldn’t have gotten away with half of the shit that he did.

“Oh, I thought I heard some girls.”

“Just the TV.”

“I just wanted to remind you that your grandma’s birthday is coming up and I thought…” David lost track of what he was saying because of what Kari was all of a sudden doing on the bed. She had completely removed her jeans and her panties and left them on the floor. She was sitting near the edge of the bed, bottomless, with her legs spread wide like she was posing for Hustler. Squinting at him through excess skin and wrinkles was Kari’s carefully shaven pussy. With no hair to hide behind, David was almost blinded by her hairless lips. Shining snatch. Gleaming gape. Vivid vulva. Cocking her head to side while she shared her pussy’s gaze, Kari smiled at David as she rolled something metallic between her thumb and forefinger. David’s curiosity of what she was playing with was only amplified by how erect he was. Although he didn’t know why, he resisted the urge to rip off his pants and wildly jump on top of her.

Her attention moved to what she was playing with in her hands. David hoped for some exotic sexual device, the egg, or a mini-dildo.  Her hand opened up and revealed a shiny metal thingy. Shiny metal thingy? She pulled it apart in the middle and brought it down to her lips between her legs. Pinching her clit, she inserted one end of this shiny metal thingy in one side and capped it off on the other. Where did she get her clit pierced?

“…I hope you bought her something nice.” My dad’s voice suddenly came back into my head.

“Huh?” was all David could muster in response while he was still slack jawed, watching as Kari pulled her panties up, buttoned her jeans, and cheerfully waved goodbye as she left the room.

“Your grandmother.”

“Who? Oh, yeah. Never mind. I gotta go.” David’s father mumbled something inaudible before David hung up the phone.

For hours after the clitoris incident, David’s brain was pushing the words clit-ring around his head along with the image of Kari, spread eagle, bedazzeling her crotch in front of him. His brain was occupied with trying to disassociate the words and images with the circumstances that they had recently been experienced. It was busy finding a nice place to nest the image of Kari’s bare vagina that had nothing to do with David’s father. While his brain was working it through, David fell into a conversation with someone that he didn’t recognize at the moment.

“So, who were you talking to?” David knew it was a girl that asked him the question.

“Dunno. Three years maybe?” David shrugged confused.

“What are you talking about? I asked you who you were talking to on the phone.” She sounded slightly agitated.

David’s brain caught “who” and “talking” out of the air and pieced the rest of it together. “My dad. He wanted to make sure I remembered my Grandma’s birthday.”

“Really what did you get her?”

“A clit-ring.”

Read Full Post »

It didn’t take long for James to come along and nudge him with his fat stump of an arm. As large as a mountain and twice as silent, James didn’t say anything when David staggered up and glared at him sharply. Indifferent to his glare of protest, James turned his attention to the rest of the cafeteria, scanning for any more stragglers.

Although James was barely 5’8” and exceeded 375 pounds, he was possibly the fastest thing on two legs. The gazelle can reach speeds of 50 mph, and, as anybody knows, the Cheetah beats this by at least 20 mph. In times of conflict, James could easily double this. There were many times when David witnessed a fight break out halfway across the ground floor of the school, and, in a breath, James was there strangling one guy with his left while holding another to the ground with his right. Watching James mediate conflicts was like watching a large beast overcome its prey on the Discovery Channel. It had the same magnificence and the same gore ridden climax that satisfied the savage bloodlust that all of men share.

One morning, David was unfortunate enough to feel his wrath. Walking past and courteously waving to James, which was returned with a smile, David passed him at a leisurely pace with a grin on his face from a more than satisfactory wake and bake session with true kine buds. Suddenly, he had something that could only be described as a giant orangutan on steroids on his back breathing hot breath into his ear molesting his ass. All the breath was pushed out of David and the substantial weight that was on his body wouldn’t allow any to come back in. Two hands scrambled around David’s ass, and his eyes went wide with the realization that the orangutan was trying to ass rape him. Afraid that if he screamed, it would only excite the beast more and entice it to donkey punch him in the back of the head while it vigorously pounded his ass. David tried to scream anyway, but all that came out was a whining whimper that sounded like it came out of twelve year old girl that had scraped her knee on the playground. The orangutan pulled something out of his pocket, and, before his cherry was popped, the weight lifted. At that moment, he knew how sailors who had been drowning must’ve felt when they finally found which way was up and found the surface. Taking in that first breath of cool air almost tears the lungs, but you’re not able to restrain yourself and you do so as if you may never be able to breath again. It was the breath of freedom without an ass rape.

James observed the black comb that was torn out of the young man’s back pocket with only a glimmer of regret. “Sorry, I thought it was a gun.” He held out the comb, handing it back to David in an unspoken gesture of peace, which David found unusual considering that James’ gesture was returning stolen property that had been obtained through fear and brute force.

David reached for the comb and took it without a word, gently nodding as he put it back into his pocket. There were no words for him to utter anyway. Some may say that he should’ve raised some voice of protest, stand on a soapbox and proclaim his tactics as abuses and demand reconciliation. David would submit that he was just happy to walk away with his cherry intact. Besides, David couldn’t help but respect such an animal in his natural environment, and when the animal nudges, you move.

Read Full Post »

Vasovaga Syncope is a fainting episode mediated by the Vagus Nerve. Tabor’s Medical Dictionary describes this as a “feeling of impending death.” David compared it to already being dead. No dreams, no ability to tell if any time has passed, one moment you’re sitting on a couch with a girl drooling on your crotch, the next, you come to sick, quivering, and covered in sweat with a beam of light burning through your retina. In spite of his knowledge of the subject, this had happened to him only once before.

David was shaking and sweating in an apartment bathroom where some asshole had already passed out on the floor in a pool of his own piss and puke. Sitting on the sink with his feet on the asshole’s back, David kept himself from getting the contents of someone’s stomach on his Converse. As he waited for his head to stop spinning, he gazed at a half-digested pepperoncini that surfed on a sea of bile with other formless masses of undigested whatever. David wasn’t sure, but he thought the poor bastard had also shit himself, which was deduced from what seemed to be a brown warshak forming on the back of his pants. If this asshole had managed to cut himself and ejaculate before he passed out, the floor would’ve been the ultimate mélange of bodily fluids. David’s feet rose with every labored breath that the asshole took, which didn’t help with the nausea. Combined with the aroma of half-digested Papa John’s and Vodka, the breathing motions swelling under his feet were only making David feel worse. He hoped that the asshole would just stop breathing, but, considering a liter of Smirnoff didn’t get the job done, David suspected that his hopes and wishes wouldn’t be able to kill him either. “Fresh air,” David swallowed. Using him as a floor mat, David balanced on the asshole’s lower back, opened the door, and leapt over the river of puke that separated him from the hallway. Throwing on his coat, David almost got out of the door before some other asshole asked where he was going.

 

“Hey, where you going?”

David wasn’t sure. “Get some food,” is what he assumed he answered with, and he was correct in his assumption.

“Where?”

“I said I was going to get food.” David misunderstood the question.

“Where are you going to get food?” he clarified.

If the guy wasn’t so damn blurry, David might’ve punched him for asking stupid questions in a time of great distress. “White Asshole,” roared out of David’s mouth, but he wasn’t sure that he responded at all. He was too occupied watching the rest of the room filled with people dissolving into a hazy mass of drunken blurs.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” One of the other drunken blurs called out.

Wasn’t it obvious? David didn’t say anything.

“Hey! Are you all right?”

David knew that ‘Hey! Are you all right?’ is a phrase that he would never want to hear while partaking in massive amounts of drug and alcohol abuse. ‘Hey! Are you all right?’ is a universally redundant question. If it’s asked of someone, the person is already pretty fucking far from all right, and the person you are asking is already well aware that he or she is about to die. By the time the question hit his ears, David was already on his way down to the floor. Even though he didn’t feel anything, he knew he hit the floor hard by the unanimous roar of “Holy Shit!” called out by every drunken blur in the living room.

David couldn’t see anything and couldn’t move, but he was able to hear, which was even more terrifying. No bright light, and he didn’t notice any relatives at the other end of a tunnel. Probably better off anyway. I’m sure that if any of my relatives were aware of how often I masturbated and snorted coke, they would just shake their heads and wag their fingers. Although David didn’t see any signs of an afterlife, he did hear a single voice calling out to him out of the black.

“Dude, Don’t be dead.”

After the poorly timed Bill and Ted quotation, David’s next memory was of him sitting on the couch, breathing heavily, where the drunken blurs were just a minute before. He guessed that he was still alive, but he wasn’t relieved.

 

Read Full Post »

I know it’s hard to believe, but sometimes my sunny demeanour slips into a dark arid wasteland where my usually vibrant enthusiastic self settles into a depression from which very few dare to venture.

Then I smile as I recall Calvin and Hobbes. I’m brought back to those innocent days where a kid races down a snowhill with his tiger towards certain doom and only laughs in the face of it. Snowmen lay eviscerated and decapitated in the winter wonderland of a family’s front lawn. An old teacher will find new spring in her step as she has to restrain a little boy whose delusions of space travel and alien fighting bring him to an outburst in the middle of a history lesson.

Then I see this…

As the adrenaline pumps into my blood that sprays from a blood vessel in my head I grip the steering wheel so hard that my fingers start to crack. You see, this purloined image was never signed off on by the magnificent Bill Watterson. In fact, whenever the topic is brought up with him, it is an obvious source of disappointment. And, in his brilliance, Mr. Watterson has every right to be upset. I don’t use the word brilliant easily, but Bill Watterson IS brilliant. He stood firm against the merchandising of his characters specifically because he knew that it would cheapen them, and viola, you have it where one of his characters is smiling as he maliciously whips his dick out and pisses all over the place with his ass hanging out.

The ever gracious Mr. Watterson would never say any of this, but I will. Any sister-fucker who has this sticker anywhere on their hillbilly ride or anywhere else for that matter should wrap their lips around that diesel tail pipe while one of his dick dipping chew chawing backyard yokals heavy foots the gas pedal until his lungs are so filled with exhaust that they combust right out of his ass.

I wouldn’t even look favorably on anyone who looks at this image with anything other than pure disgust. Calvin was mischievous but NEVER malicious. His innocence was part of what made him so endearing. Had he just been a prick, everybody would’ve been hoping that Hobbes would’ve eaten him viciously. For those of us who read Calvin and Hobbes religiously, and understood it, this picture is an aberration on the same level as this…

So, you hillrodcockslurpingmotherfuckers, how did that feel to see your lord and savior as banging himself? Not very good did it. I’m sure I’ll get some hate mail for this, but it’s worth it to make it clear that it’s not funny or clever to have a pic of Calvin pissing on anything. In fact, you would be hard pressed to find anything dumber.

 

Read Full Post »

Oh good cheeseburger crumbly meatiness you you what kind of expectations of cheesiness misbegot political compulsions conduct! I sink my tooth buns to you savor tangy condiments fragrant savor that I only you are in the service of further said. You Mayo agrarian! Oh juiciness to bring it to you I my chin eaves and soak my shirt God if you onion! I said to you but I really like me you with my bias.

Read Full Post »