Tuesday, May 21, 2019

TAKE EVERY LAST DROP OF IT YOU IGNORANT, UNEDUCATED REDNECK!


TAKE EVERY LAST DROP OF IT YOU IGNORANT, UNEDUCATED REDNECK!


             

TAKE EVERY LAST DROP OF IT YOU IGNORANT, UNEDUCATED REDNECK!


                I arrived at the welfare office early.   I was fourth or fifth in line.  If I could control myself - if I could not tap my foot or start listening to Rage Against the Machine in my headphones loudly, then maybe I wouldn’t piss off some overweight bureaucrat who forgot his coffee.

The plan was to get out of there, cash my check and tell the boss to fuck off.   I would be able to sneak into and out of Courtney’s house before her boyfriend – that walking dildo – got back from work.  I would let her come to me and obviously ejaculate in less than five minutes.  Keep her coming back for more.  Then I’d take my welfare money, get a half pint of Bulleit and drink it straight on the walk home.  I’d ditch the bottle beneath the overpass so my roommate wouldn’t find out about my drinking.  Dude was a great guy and I couldn’t bear for him to see my empty bottles in his recycling.

The black dude in line nodded and smiled, the Mexican guy ignored me and the obviously Zionist white chick gave me a disgusted face because I was wearing my “End All Aid to Israel” sweatshirt.

Some poor white veteran had hung up an American flag outside over a narrow tree branch a couple weeks or so ago.  None of the bureaucrats had taken it down.  He had used clothespins to secure it.  Poor cocksucker couldn’t even afford a dryer at home.  It got me pissed me off the more that I thought about it.

At first the flag had been a symbol of hope for me, mainly due to the fact that the man who had hung it there had had good intent.  He was trying to brighten people’s spirits.  There is definitely something heartwarming about an old veteran, fucked over by the system, still believing in the country he served, even if the service he performed was more like a blowjob and taking a load all over his face while people lied to him and told him that his performance was some sort of heroic act.  But the more I saw his dirty laundry hanging there, the less I could stand the sight of it.  It started to whisper cruel things to me inside my brain while I stood in line.

Yeah baby, it would say as it fluttered in the cool morning breeze. Stick a finger or two in my asshole while you suck it.

I watched the white chick scowl, her unibrow becoming more pronounced.  The flag moved and swayed and started whispering again.

Use both hands.

The woman put her right hand on her hip and tapped her foot as we waited.

Now let me titty fuck your manboobs, old vet, the flag whispered.  Stupid, white fuck.  How many brown-skinned people have to die so I can explode in your mouth?

She kept tapping.  Now both hands were on her hips.

USE TWO FINGERS ON MY FORESKIN WITH YOUR FAR HAND WHILE YOU SUCK ME! YEAH! NOW PUNCH ME IN THE BALLS.  HARDER! FASTER! I’M GONNA FUCKIN’ CUM YOU RACIST MURDERER!

               “Someone should take down that flag,” I said.  The black guy nodded with glee.  The Mexican guy didn’t say anything.

               Her hands were gripping her muffin top.  The black guy pointed at her.

               TAKE EVERY LAST DROP OF IT YOU IGNORANT, UNEDUCATED REDNECK!

               She was stewing with hatred.  She looked back at us and the black guy stopped pointing.  His mouth was open even wider now.  The Mexican guy stood, completely stoic.  I looked back and forth among the three of them and then back to the flag hanging sadly.

               NOW LICK THE DICK CHEESE OFF MY FORESKIN, OLD MAN!

               I couldn’t take it anymore and I walked over to the tree branch and took the flag down.  I folded it respectfully before I walked across the parking lot to the dumpster.  I gently dropped it in with the rest of the trash, used condoms and empty plastic bottles of Taaka.


2. "That's My Wife"


2. "That's My Wife"
It wasn’t long before Courtney’s man intervened and ruined our fun.  He sent me some long rant in a DM (direct message) which I skimmed.  I did notice that his several paragraphs included the words, “That’s my wife.”

I quoted those three words in my response.  I said, “Way to objectify your wife you misogynistic prick.  What you meant to say was, ‘She’s my wife.’”

He sent me another message which I didn’t read.  Then I wrote back, “If I was to make love to your wife, it would be in the standing missionary position.  Because I care about her very deeply and I wouldn’t want to hurt her.  Also, it has become obvious to me that you go down on her pretty regularly, and that’s not my thing.  So I wouldn’t worry about it.  Me and Courtney – it’s just probably not gonna happen.”
           I thought about including something about how he shouldn’t be threatened by my magic fingers (since I play guitar) but I started to unravel when I remembered that’s how Trump hooks chicks.  It gave me a sad feeling and I left that part out.  Then I remembered Mike Gravel’s cane and it made me smile.

1. DON'T LET THE IMPERIAL WIZARDS TAKE YOUR RIGHTS AWAY - THEN GO TO PLANNED PARENTHOOD, GET AN IED AND LET ME NUT IN YOUR CANAL!


1. DON'T LET THE IMPERIAL WIZARDS TAKE YOUR RIGHTS AWAY - THEN GO TO PLANNED PARENTHOOD, GET AN IED AND LET ME NUT IN YOUR CANAL!
             
I was feeling good, real good.  I was healthy.  My balls were hanging low and my nut sack was swinging like a pendulum in a long arc as I bopped around downtown listening to “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind.  I mocked the singer’s lisp and made the female yuppies giggle.  Even their bearded “husbands” thought it was cool.  It’s kind of hard to think a guy with a lisp is going to fuck your wife if you’re a dipshit hipster with a crew cut.
               Courtney kept texting me and I ignored her.  She kept calling me a “bitch” which I didn’t understand, but whatever.

               Finally the vodka hit me and I remembered back when we were thirteen years old and how she kept begging me to put my three inch cock in her mouth.  We just held hands sometimes.
               “Remember when we kissed?” she texted.
               I caved and texted back: “No, but my cock is at least four inches now so I think we should pick up where we left off.”

               She kept referring to her husband – or boyfriend – or fiancĂ©, Joel.  I ignored her some more.

               “Remember when we held hands?” she texted.
               “Remember when you went on and on about abortion for three years on Facebook and never let me nut inside your canal?” I replied.

               I could feel how wet that made her from miles away.  She started screaming at me through text message in all caps.

               “PAUL! ABSOLUTELY NOT!  IT’S NO WONDER YOU NEVER GET LAID!  YOU’RE A MISOGYNIST, YOU’RE VULGAR, YOU’RE-“
               I just stopped reading and turned “Semi-Charmed Life” up louder.
               “The sky was gold, it was rose, I was taking sips of it through my nose…”
              
I knew what her problem was.  Why she kept going on and on about women’s rights on social media.  I knew what she needed and where she needed it.

               “AND IF WE WERE TO HAVE SEX YOU SHOULD AT LEAST HAVE THE COURTESY TO USE A CONDOM!”

I texted back: “Let’s be real, Courtney.  If we were to have sex there would ABSOLUTELY be no condom.  I care about you too much.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she texted back.
She was almost done.

I texted: “What with all the imperial wizards trying to take your rights away it’s amazing that you don’t use them while you still can.  Just walk your cute thing down to Planned Parenthood and get the IED.  IUD?  I can’t remember.  Or whatever, I’ll just pull out or something.  I have manners.”

“PAUL!” she screamed.
            “Do ever what you wanna do, comin’ over you, keep on smilin’ with what we go through…”