It's currently 5:00 a.m. on Christmas morning and Santa hasn't been here yet, maybe it is because I haven't slept yet. Many people take their childhood for granted and sometimes I do this too, but I had the entire Santa thing taken away from me early on. I was 5 and my cousin Andrew not only told me that Santa wasn't real, but he told me where my mom hid the presents. It's like when I was in 2nd grade and the Harris family, an interracial/interreligion family moved in and introduced me to such things as Porn and rap music. I didn't really take very well to the rap music, but god damn did I love learning about sex.
THat being said, I now have the complete collection of South Park, seasons 1-10...except I think I let Hoppes borrow two of the disks...I need to get those back.
So I lied, my surgery is actually this thursday and not friday. So that is one less day. I'm kind of excited for this surgery because it will give me the only true chance to fix my life. After doing a lot of research I discovered that a great way properly fix your sarcadium rythum (or however it is spelled, it's fucking 5:00 in the morning, fuck you whoever cares about spelling) is to work on it after having surgery because of the blood loss and fact that your entire schedule is going to be messed up anyway. My shoulder has really kept me away from doing the things that I love, swimming and playing sports. It really does hurt when I even just run sometimes, which makes me feel like a pussy, but it's the truth. I watch a lot of espn because I can't do physical activities and I miss it, at least I think that's part of it.
So the gameplan is, surgery, fix sleep, start exercising more, eat better, masturbate more frequently, drink less frequently, smoke SIGNIFICANTLY less (horray for roomies hookah!), and find my happiness again. Which means that a girl will likely be in the cards, because who can be happy without someone to hold? (Actually I just want back massages, sex scares me, again).
So, as Batman and a few others have requested, I will post my entire Epic An American Tall Tale: Matthew Goes Southwest at some point, but it isn't finished. Part 1 is finished and part 1a is finished, part 2 is done as far as the fact that I'm happy with it though it may need some polish here and there, and part 2a is really stupid. Part 3 is nowhere near finished and it is about 30 pages so far. The entire thing is like...at least 100 pages and it isn't finished. Before I even post it I need to talk to some people about it because I am really mean to a few characters, but there is nothing to it other then I needed an antagonist so I turned a few characters that should be put into possitive light into meanies or something. I had to cut a lot of people out and mix together a lot of people. The girls of the wedding I know nothing about, including monica to be honest, so they are nothing like how I actually think of them, and I kind of used them to portray how certain someones treated me during that time.
But I dunno, I feel like an immature asshole if I post it without talking to a few of these people...because like everything I write, it is VERY personal, so I will eventually post it, but it will take a while, because I will likely post it externally because this doesn't recognize font changes and the 1st part is in 2 different fonts, and YES, it is important because it is the only way to really distinguish the dialog vs the narration. So...instead of me posting that story, on my extended entry, if you guys would like, I will post the very *first* story I ever wrote for my creative writing class. It is probably my favorite. Read on if you would like. But it is 16 pages...which is the 2nd shortest story I have ever written (6).
Then again...I am an immature asshole, just ask my parents.
Love, Rob
Who wants Honey
-{“It is very great to meet you sir, but I wish that the circumstances were a little different. I’m rotting here in this hell hole and there isn’t anything I can do about it. I wish this could only be a nightmare. How did I get here? Oh man, that’s a loaded question. It’s obvious that I did something to get here. I guess we’ve got a lot of time, I could tell you about how I got here if you’d like.”} Narrator said as he began his story.
--{Stop right there! Desist vile fiend!
--Never Mr. Rogers. This woman and I will be going for a long car ride. Hoss, Big, please take care of Mr. Rogers for me. I have important, sexual matters to take care of. Forcefully, which is the best way. MWAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
--Please save me Roger!
--You will never get away with this Captain Redrum!
--Oh I think I already have Roger Rogers…Kill him!
--With pleasure Captain…
--Yeah we’ll take care of him…
-*Man I am surrounded…hey, there is a metal pipe lying on the ground, maybe I can use that to my advantage.* You guys will never catch me!
--Hey Big, he’s tryin to get away, lets get him and tie him down. Maybe I can sodomize him after he dies.
--Not if I get there first, Hoss, you get sloppy seconds!
--*Crud! They are gaining on me!* If I…could only reach…this pipe…-“YEAH!!!!!! YEAH!!!!! EVERYONE ON THE DANCE FLOOR GETTING A RUFIE, YEAH!!!! YEAH!!! EVERYONE ON DAT FLOO GETTIN STUCK GOOFIE, YEAH!!! YEAH!!!! BEAT THOSE GIRLS, BEAT THEM SILLY, I AINT KIDDY, SMACK’EM WITCH YO WILLIE!!!!!”
-“What the fuck?! You asshole I was watching that!”
-“Oh you have watched every single episode of that, besides this is my pad bruh, this is my new song’is video anyway, much better then your ‘Pussy Ass Soap Opera’ or whateve you was just watching, son.”
-“You are the most shitty ass host I’ve ever fuckin been around dude. Fuck this shit, I’ve got a game in a few hours. It is my ritual that I watch Pussy Ass Soap Opera every game day baby! Shit goes down when I don’t get my fixes, bruh. Come on now, you know your gay ass rap shit is just going to fuck me over, shit man, fuck it. I gotta go get high again. Because of you I’m going to waste another 8th of Caribbean Kind Bud!”
This was a typical day around my buddy Rick “Roof of Troof” Sofaking’s $5,323,981 mansion in Dependence, California. Rick “Roof of Troof” Sofaking was a multi-millionaire rap artist. He has twelve platinum albums and 39 #1 hits.
Rick Sofaking, rapper extraordinaire, came from a very very poor family. So poor I need to type very twice without a comma. Like I’m not even going to change it. Anyway, Rick wasn’t always a rapper. At a young age, he was constantly surrounded by people of different cultures than his. Growing up, Rick lived in Bumblefuck, Tennessee. He didn’t hang with anyone from his neighborhood. Rick had to go into the ghettacious projects, a.k.a. Complete Trashville, Tennessee, a small town almost 4 miles out, to find friends. Many times when Rick arrived in CT, he saw people doing some of the realest shit ever. There were all of these underground rap concerts and contests with some free styling types he had never seen before.
-“Man, what is going on here, the only thing I hear about up in Bumblefuck are songs about having sex with my sister while she is on her period. And that’s only when the donkeys aren’t all taken up! Hicks…!”
It was in CT that he met his best friend, Eddie Illegal Alien. Jealous of laid back culture of CT, Rick was on the rap game lingo faster than a Jew on a quarter.
-“Ey Ese. ¿Qué arriba?”
-“Hey man, what’s up Eduardo. I is reawl good. How's you keeping it homey”
-“Bueno, pero es verdadero chungo lo que sucedió a Plutón”
-“Yeaii, I feews yo. I know what you mean. I think it is shitty that Pluto is no longer a plan it toous.”
-“Yo no puedo creer que Plutón fue volado realmente por Venus”
-“Totally. That war was brutal; I can’t believe Venus blew it up. They bombed the pork out of it. Crazy how that happened just after it got reinstated back into the union. I can’t believe the entire state of Norway was going to secede from us if that law wasn’t over turned. We have our armies stationed there. That would be bad.”
-“ Estoy que Canadá contento se quedó afuera a hombre de ello, los piratas y ninjas necesitan atascar apenas a asuntos de mundo. Y entonces algo acerca de la música al fondo y lo que pasa”
-“Yeah, this shit is real tight bruha, I like this free style beat boxin shit mahn, I mean it’s the real shiz.”
-“¡SI!, hehaha. ¡YEAH!”
-“Hahahaha. YEAH!!! YEAHH!!! YEAAAH! YEAH!!!!”
The two best friends hung out nearly every day, and would bike to each others towns. Complete Trashville did dominate the playing time, as they just found it easier to find fun things to do there. In Bumblefuck, Rick felt secluded and was constantly being dumped on. He couldn’t play basketball without feeling inferior to the others because of all the staring eyes and jokes. People laughed at him during Spanish class because he had a weird accent and he picked up the language fast. Rick couldn’t even go potty in the schools without another kid squatting over him and pooing all over his shoes. Those kinds of things didn’t happen to him when he was with Eddie. Eddie and Rick were constantly together in Compete Trashville.
That is until one day when Eddie was deported because he is a “Silly Mexican”. Arnold Govenator, the President of Canada passed the “Silly Mexican” bill where all Mexicans, both legal and illegal were hunted down, and taken out of the country (Yes, President of Canada. In World War 3, the United States went to war with Ghana because they had “weapons of mass destruction”. Canada backed Ghana right away. I believe the technical term is “annexed”. But hey! Free health care!). We have a moat between us and Mexico. So it worked out.
I’d like to explain how things work in these times a little better. If you are the President of Canada, any law you want passed goes unopposed unless an opposing force can convince a state to secede. This is called the “Screw you, we’re quitting” law. Norway is usually the one to threaten. No one really messes with Norway, because all of the Ninjas and Pirates live there. Who is going to fuck with Ninjas and Pirates?
Life was completely different for the two best friends from this point on. Rick ended up dropping out of high school. Not because he couldn’t take it, Rick was a brilliant student who was just a little distracted by rap. Rick loved rap music. Rick was the first person to discover how rap music works. After doing a research project for school, he made a startling revelation. It doesn’t matter what your lyrics are, so long as the beat is tight and there is serious repetition. Girls will be shaking their hips and bouncing their titties to the music; while the boys will be boner-struck and attempt to dance with the ladies while making a face like they have an enema up their asses. That’s how Rick got his fortune. He was signed by P-Did as a junior in high school and took over for him when P-Did went psycho and committed suicide.
Eddie was not as lucky to commit suicide. He worked outside all day long in the plantations of Mexico. He never learned to speak English in Canada. It is not required in Canada for immigrants to learn English in schools. Eddie understood what people said in the spoken word, but could not write or speak in English. When it came time for him to get a promotion to head picker, he couldn’t get it. Eddie was passed over by an overweight noodle stripper.
A few years later, to the delight of Eddie, Arnold Govenator passed the “Slaves and Maids Act of 2076”. Canadians were able to pay Mexicans for cheap labor. Mexico shipped the Mexicans back into Canada. The only stipulation was they had to either become slaves or maids. Eddie volunteered right away. The chance to be back in the country he loved had arrived. Plus he liked to clean. As fate would have it, one of Rick’s friends picked Eddie up at the auction block. Eddie looked good enough in his French maid uniform.
-“¡Engáncheme arriba hombre!”
-“Yeaah man, that’s straight, you can grab a beer before you drive him to the game man, don’t even ask next time Yo.”
-“You can’t fucking drive my ass when you drink, because, uh, fuckin…wait? What? Oh yeah, drugs inhibit your abilities to drive! Fuck off Rick, don’t give him any ideas!”
-“Seriously, brudah, don’t be such a wambiepambie. You are a professional athlete, act like it.”
Rick’s new friend and Eddie “Illegal” Alien’s master, Buck Mother Fucking McCoy, is the starting middle linebacker for the California Govenators. In high school he was a 6’ 2” track all star. Buck’s doctor, Dr. West, discovered that if he took steroids it not only made him stronger, but faster too. Steroids did have a few negative effects, such as shrinking balls, and a few other “minor things”. Dr. West assured Buck the good outweighed the bad and it was safe.
Buck then attended college at WTU (White Trash University) where he triple majored in smoking weed, talking trash and beating women. Only athletes with a professional future can register for those classes, so that major isn’t very common for the normal folk.
Buck graduated with a 4.0, which is the same as his 40 yard dash time. He was drafted first overall by the California Govenators 4 years ago. He is the fastest player in the entire International Football Conspiracy. Except for the cheetah that the Ethiopian Hunger have, but HE IS a Perennial All Pro Quarterback. Have you ever seen a cheetah throw a football? It is the most amazing thing ever, dude.
Buck Mother Fucking McCoy is a real hardass. One may think that as such an avid weed toker his attitude would be toned down. Oh no. Not Buck Mother Fucking McCoy, which is his legal name by the way. That shit fires him up.
Isn’t it illegal for professional athletes to smoke pot? Not if you are rich and can pay off refs and government officials. This is another reason that the California Govenators haven’t lost a game in the last 2 years. In Canada, you can buy anything, even 2 perfect seasons and World Championships. The Govenators have won ever since the defending champions, the German Warcrimers “accidentally” killed the Govenators starting quarterback Jeremiah Gloginsteinberg. This was a big mistake, as their back up, Ron Greatarm, became the only player to ever throw for 3000 yards. All in one game, but to be fair, that game was against the China Rice-pickers. Their tallest secondary player was 5 foot 8.
Buck Mother Fucking McCoy is the first linebacker to ever have a 20/20/20/20 season, which is 20 sacks, 20 interceptions, 20 forced fumbles and 20 concussions. He only had 3 fumble recoveries, but you have to remember, football is a team game. To reward him, he was given a 5 year, 65 million dollar contract extension, and 13 movies deals. Buck Mother Fucking McCoy is a cultural icon, not just in Canada, but the world.
The problem was that the concussions he had received through out the years had made it so that every other word he speaks was practically a cuss word. He just can’t formulate a proper sentence without using one.
-“Shit Nugs, bitch, I’m your best player, you pay me to play football, maybe I should just hold out on your ass.”
-“Yeaah? and I’ll hire goons to kill yo ass if you do dat. Remember, I write your pay-checks bitch, I cah Hold out as long as I wan.”
Rick “Roof of Troof” Sofaking does essentially own Buck Mother Fucking McCoy as the owner of the Govenators. However, neither of them gives a hoot about that. Friendship is about more than someone paying you to play football. It’s about kinship, the times you have together and keeping it real.
-“Mahan, don’t be frontin, ass clown. There are more people that want me dead than you’ll ever know rapper boy, they is comin to get me.”
-“Haha, shut your face, bruh, you don’t know shii”
-“Shut Yo Ass Bitch, It's game TIME! GAME TIME MOTHER FUCKAS! Shit nugs, I gottsta be all up in this biatch, your coming to the game, right? You best be!”
-“Dude, I’ll be there, chill out, I do own the team man, Ass & Titties Enterprises baby! You know I’ll be at Ass & Titties Stadium.”
-“Of course we are going to be there my little Snookums! I would never ever miss your game, that would stop me from feeling extra super.”
Oh, Lance “Glassjaw Rocket” McKillin. Everyone’s favorite jokester. Glassjaw Rocket was a boxer who held a record of 3-39. Ok, so he wasn’t very good at boxing, but he worked hard and did his best. He was a part-time stand up comedian. He did family entertainment, similar to Bob Saggot. In high school Lance played basketball (he was the center), baseball (he was the catcher), and football (He was the wide receiver, but later switched to tight end).
Lance and Buck met on the football field, in the classic match up of The Artemis State Lemonrammers vs. The White Trash Herpes. They were the top 2 teams in the nation met, and they met prime-freaking-time in front of a live national television audience. Lance played for the Lemonrammers. Lance was a red-shirt junior 2nd team All-Canada tight end. Lance was Bucks assignment. Buck was an up and coming freshman, starting for the Herpes. On the first offensive play of the game, Lance was tackled by Buck. They looked at each other awkwardly.
On the next play, Lance pancaked Buck. This was the first time that Buck had ever been pancaked in his entire football career. Buck Mother Fucking McCoy did not take failure well, but kind of enjoyed getting pancaked. It fired him up. He wanted to get Lance back. So on the next passing play, Buck hit Lance so hard he gave him a concussion. The Herpes were awarded an extra 2 points.
Something weird happened. Buck felt a feeling he had never known before. It was remorse. He didn’t know what to do, so he ran to the sidelines, sat down on the cold bench and just thought. His teammates congratulated him, but he just didn’t care. He made up his mind and decided to talk to Lance. After the game, he went hunting for Lance. He was not in the trainer’s office anymore; Lance had been cleared medically to go take a shower. Buck walked for 10 minutes pacing up and down the hallway. He stood in front of the sign, shaking his head and questioning his beliefs. It was another 15 minutes before he entered the closed visiting team door. The moment that Buck saw Lance, he looked him in the eye.
-“Lance, I’m sorry. I just overreacted, that wasn’t a fair play on my part. You are the first person who has ever pancaked me before. I didn’t know how to handle it…and I, I’m just so, so sorry.”
Lance just stood up and grabbed Bucks face, and kissed him. Buck returned the kiss and slipped him the tongue. Buck now knew that his secret that he had been keeping was out. He was gay. Needless to say, there was some serious love making taking place.
Something I didn’t tell you is that Lance was in the Gay Bathroom. Arnold Govenator had the “Get those queers out of my bathrooms so they don’t look at my dick” Act of 2065 where gays were given their own bathrooms, completely segregated from guys who don’t like to look at each others penises. As a homosexual and someone who looked at other people’s penises, Lance was segregated often. Even as a college athlete, he was discriminated against. Buck comforted him and their relationship blossomed from there.
Lance and Buck were soon married. Thank Rah that President Govenator was pro-gay; he passed the “So long as those queers don’t use my church or look at/touch my dick, they can do what they want” bill of rights. That one is pretty self-explanatory. His opponent, Tom Gibson, was in favor of the “Kill those fags” amendment that congress was trying to pass. That one is also self-explanatory. Marriage is not a very hard process for gays. They just had to register, reregister as gays, cross register as homosexual, and re-cross register as “Non-hot Lesbian” gays.
Lance was born with an erect penis. He knows that when he came out of his mother, he actually had his erect penis touch her vaginal walls, so he essentially had sex with her. Wouldn’t that turn you kind of off to women? Lance was soon diagnosed with an inverse Oedipus complex. Lance didn’t ever try to kill his mother. He DID kill her.
He was successful in killing her without even trying; it was an accident that could happen to anyone around the house. It involved a shotgun and the lid of his sippy-cup. He never talked about the incident so I can’t elaborate. Too much emotional baggage I would say.
Lance would wake up early in the morning to check out his father’s package before and after he would take a shower to see if there were any significant changes in its shape, size or texture. He was always pissed that his father never molested him. Because Lance’s father worked, he had many babysitters. Lance couldn’t keep a babysitter. It wasn’t because he was bad; it was because he just kept molesting them.
The babysitters did not ever touch Lance, “The Mike Jackson Act of 2072” made it illegal for anyone to have sexually promiscuous actions with a minor, without a license. If you are caught molesting a child, and it is not molesting you, you will be put to the most painful death ever. Death by tickling. The government could tell the molester from the molested. Technology sure is great now.
Lance got into boxing because he is a complete S&M fiend. He constantly got a thrill out of getting the shit beaten out of him by sexy boxers. He wasn’t a submissive always though, as he would always try to dish out some pleasure. The only fights that Lance had ever won were in college when he competed in a few foxy boxing competitions while completely loaded on drugs. Yes, Lance was one wacko mother fucker. Literally.
-“Oh baby, you will be fine. That soap opera is just atrocious anyway. Jezux.”
-“Man, fuckin’AYE Woman. I think I is ready to be all up in and out of this biatch. Yo, Eddie lets get fucking going, finish that beer and I’ll be getting jacked up in the car man. Hey, Rick, do you gots a new beats you can let me listen to on the way to A&T?”
-“No man, I ain’t gots shitttt. I’ve been working on that video you saw today for a long while…Hey I do got these new lyrics. Wanna hear dis?”
-“¡Joda sí!”
-“Aight, Aight settle down…hustlas.”
-“Oh Doll, just tell us your lyrics, quit your procrastination.”
-“Haha, tight, tight brugha. The name of the song is ‘I like girls with big boobs’. I got the beat figured out, and the hook. I freestyle this shit tho, donit wanna getma mixrs out.
-“¡Nosotros no tenemos para siempre!”
-“Aite, Aite, this is it. ‘I got my lady shavin my pubes with her Venus, and while she’s down there, she’s gonna be suckin ma P…’”
-“Ok, stop, that is mostly inner-prop, mkay. I don’t want to be subjected to such garbage. You are gonna get me on all fired up!”
-“Bitch’s shut you asses, I’m gonna throw both yous out this window if you don’t keep it real for a while. Eddie, lets go!...wait, uh…oh yeah, you gots my weed?”
-“El hombre bueno, yo estoy listo, he obtenido su hierba enrolló.
While driving, Buck Mother Fucking McCoy noticed that gas prices were going down. The last time that gas prices went down Canada went into World War 4. We all know what happened before and after World War 4, so I don’t need to talk about it, it will just bring us down. Inspired, Buck called Lance.
-“Honey, we need to build our fucking mustard gas compatible bomb shelter. Have our two little shits do that tomorrow after school?”
-“Oh hunny, I think the kids would love to work on that. You are such a great father.”
-Did you see that the fucking Gas Prices went down? You know that shit is going to go down, we are, fuckin like, uh…what was I saying? Oh yeah, uh, fucking like Canada are gonna get into a huge spat with some fuckheads. Then the Canadian government is just going to give us a blind eye so we miss what is really the fucks going on. The Govenator has been known to do this shit. And the gas prices are down…war is coming!
-“Oh baby cakes, you and your fun stories! I miss you already, I’ll come give you a hummer during half-time, love ya, I gotta get ready for the game! Keep your theories to yourself, you know that the media would love to hear that conspiracy theory. It is just unintelligent and unprofessional for you to speak that way in public. Just focus on your game and your movie scripts.”
-“Shittin, yeah, youisright. Bye love, bitchass Hoe.”
-“¡Usted es tal trabajo! ¡HAHA!”
Problem is that there was something going down with the government. See, Lance thought Buck was just blowing smoke up his tight ass. But “They” have been following Buck and his righteous free thinking.
Today’s game was against the Japanese Kamikazes, who had only one loss, and that was to the Brazilian Waxes, whose mascot is a wet, shaven beaver. The Japanese Kamikazes weren’t planning on playing nicely however, they had a plan. And connections.
The Japanese Mafia has a chapter in California. The Japanese Mafia owns every single Taco Bell in the entire nation. No one outside of President Govenators cabinet and members of the Japanese Mafia knew there was anything even going on. The only person that they figured knew about it was the ever perceptive Buck Mother Fucking McCoy. But he was in too deep before he even knew it. And a little too high.
Some time had passed; Buck was getting jacked up for his game. Some ugly fat triplets were chosen to perform the national anthem on that day. The national anthem has changed a bit. Instead of singing, there were simply screams of murder coming from sacrificing the performers. So for the price of 1 ticket you not only got football, but a live sacrifice. Now that is family entertainment! After roasting the fat muffets, they cleaned off their tuffets, while I prepared the field and got ready for pre-game introductions.
Buck Mother Fucking McCoy was elected team captain this year, so he was the last defensive player to go out. This left Buck enough time to sit and gather his thoughts, while striking up a joint. He always kissed a picture of his children and his idol, Louie Anderson, before the game. That was his other pre-game superstition, just like watching Pussy Ass Soap Opera. Problem was that his picture of Louie Anderson was not there.
Instead there was a small little note in its place that said “For your eyes only”. It wasn’t his note, and he didn’t want to jinx himself and read it. That’s just bad karma. Knowing that the refs were bribed eased his mind into submission, and Buck went back to being a performer. Buck Mother Fucking McCoy went through the tunnel and gave his all every single time he went out there. That’s why he was who he was. He never stopped, especially when someone says no.
As Buck got his name called by the trainer, he got up, and then noticed he left the note on the ground. He placed the note and his extra weed bottle back into his locker. Buck took off in a straight line, running like a mad man, yelling and screaming, raising the roof and pride pounding. As the crowd got up on its feet cheering and high-fiving each other as their captain came onto the field, a loud boom went off from the rafters.
Buck Mother Fucking McCoy had been assassinated. A public murder of one of Canada’s most revered people. Everyone in the stands stood and gasped. Rick and Lance rushed the field as soon as they realized what was going on. Lance came to his husband one last time. I guess it really didn’t count since he was dead and his brains were splattered all over the cheerleaders G-Strings, but Lance didn’t care. Rick assisted Lance to the best of his abilities and thought about Lance and Bucks children.
Problem was that the Japanese Mafia were also thinking about Lance and Buck’s children. They went into Bucks home and raided it, searching for any evidence that he may have found. The only thing they could find were Bucks 5-year-old girl and 8-year-old son. The two siblings were decapitated in less than 12 seconds upon sight.
The Japanese Mafia and President Govenator realized that they may have made a mistake. Buck Mother Fucking McCoy didn’t know shit.
-“Oh my poor baby. Why did this have to happen! Why, WHY WHY! I swear, I will find out what happened. I will starve myself and fight the good fight from now on. OH MY RAH I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.”
-“Holy Shit.”
-“ Joda…”
Lance soon left Canada and went into isolation in Antarctica. He got suckered in by those timeshares. For only 100,000 dollars a month he got his own place in Antarctica. Lance, by that time, had seen his husband die only to come home to see his children dead on the floor. He had nothing to live for other then transcendence. No one ever spoke to Lance again.
As for Rick and Eddie? Typically as an owner, Rick would just have a worker bee like me clean out his locker, because people die all the time playing football. I mean, a kill does count as 10 points, 13 points for a cool kill. But no one wants to see someone die like that. Buck was a friend, so he decided to do it himself out of respect for his fallen friend. He needed to rest before he could do it. He wasn’t 100% business all the time.
The next morning, Rick and Eddie came down to the locker room to clean out Buck’s locker. After breaking the padlock, Rick took out Buck’s practice jerseys, extra nut cups, steroids and weed juice. Eddie noticed a letter was right underneath the weed bottle. It said “For your eyes only.”
-“Oye la mirada, hay una carta, quizá nosotros lo debemos leer. ¡Pienso que debemos porque quizá seremos una llave por qué él es muerto!”
-“Nah, we can’t. That is HIZ personal information bra. I don’t think I can. A dead mans final request is for us to not read his shii. You and I both went through life bein disrespected. From start to finish, we’ve had a lot of things wez hadz to put up with, and even though weiz able to do it, we shouldn’t. Juss cause we gots the power doesn’t mean we gots to use it. I say we respect him. I think we should go to lunch and think about what we want to do with this note. I leave it har, but I is goina shred it up.”
Strolling to Rick’s limo, the winds were biting in the cool breeze, the two best friends talked to each other as they did in their childhood, without the bonds of society. Then they sat down and looked each other in the eyes. A huff of cold air flew out from the lungs of the surviving friends. Reality struck. Reality is a mother fucker.
-“Weeh, sheittt…uhm, man so what should we do? We better take care of his things, his funeral is goi to be world changing.”
-“ Está como el hombre del éxtasis, todos son feelin hacia abajo. Tengo dos tacos.”
-“I want a fucking taco.”
Stupid owners. Don’t they know that they need to know EVERYTHING about the players they sign? This letter was the answer to everything that has been going on since there have been governments. As they left I broke into the office and read the note:
Dear Buck Mother Fucking McCoy,
This is Dr. West. I am contacting you from the future. You are the world’s only hope. Please know this information is for your eyes only.
My latest study has concluded that Marijuana is actually produced by the government for use of controlling people. Marijuana makes your mind weak, and if taken in higher doses makes you become a hippie. Hippies are just the government’s way to make you do nothing. You don’t learn anything. They may think they know things, but they do not. The government sends brainwaves into their minds that are counterproductive to real knowledge through the mutated THC. It is kind of like that thing from Batman and Robin where the TV attachment sends brainwaves to your mind and steals all of your thoughts.
I know that you are addicted to the weed. Those steroids I sent back should help you stay strong until I can figure out how to get back to our real time, space and realm. The roids use omega blockers to reroute the signals away from your mind. I can get construction paper with colored pencils to travel through time, just not humans yet. That and the roids. I should be able to travel through time within a few nano-minutes. When I finish I will come to your time and help you take down the government. Act like nothing is wrong, keep smoking so they don’t suspect anything. So long as you are taking the steroids you will be safe. Soon the drugs will be out of your system and you will be able to think for yourself again.
God Speed, Dr. West
Dr. West’s machine worked alright, but he was killed before he could travel to save Buck and the rest of the world. The dragons had used his machine to get to our world. The dragons of all colors and creeds came out of another dimension and killed everyone. The blue dragons used their icy breaths to freeze people, and the grand dragons used their club like tails to smash the frozen flesh. The Dragons did all of the necessary recon work to discover a way to exploit our defenses. Venus did not help us with this war. The world’s army of ninjas and pirates put up a good fight, but shit, Dragons are tough to prepare for when they aren’t even real!
Unfortunately, I had AIDS and died the morning before the dragons came. I wish I used condoms more. But it feels so much better without them! Can you blame me for never using them? I made a few mistakes in my life, and I had a horrible disease I had to hide forever. If I had known the world was going to be ended by dragons I would have donated more money to the AIDS foundation. I am so bitter I never saw those dragons. I loved dragons growing up. Oh man, I can’t believe the irony. I could have been killed by a dragon; instead I was killed by my own ignorance.
Anyway, that’s how I got to hell, what about you dude?”} Narrator said, beginning an eternity of hell fire and pushing a rock up a giant hill.
-{“I pissed on a girl and videotaped it”} R-Kelly said as Satan urinated on his face for all eternity.
The End.
Shoulder Surgery-December 28th...
I spent the last 2 days doing poetry research, composing and critquing. I never really cared about poetry or about forms or meter or any of that shit. Now I can't get that shit out of my head. When people are talking I count syllables and see if we as people really do speak in Iambic Pentameter typically. Fitting the typical theme of this summer, I had to do an essay over Rafael Campo. He fits into so many weird niches, such as Latino/Homosexual/Harvard Doctor/Award winning Poet. I liked reading his stuff and his thesis's, but he said something I could never disagree with more.
Campo believes that empathy is “a suspect thing, an entirely made up idea…an irrational search for life’s meaning”. I don’t agree with that at all, but I think the fact that he has been an outsider for so long has changed his own perceived reality on how other people view him. I can relate with his thoughts about people not being able to relate, even I at some point was a gay bashing 6th grader, but I have grown up and moved on, and I hope that other people have to. I think campo is wrong about people not being able to have an emotional attachment with another human despite not actually knowing exactly what they are going though. I feel I can empathize with anything, even a shattered lawn gnome.
My buddy Paul let me borrow this book of video game poetry called "Blue Wizard is about to Die". I never ever read anything ever ever. I finished it in about 3 hours. Phenominal. I wanted to write that essay I wrote about Campo on Seth Flynn Fingers, but my teacher wouldn't allow it because I had to find reserach journal articles on it. ANd Wikipedia and Jimbob's personal website could NOT be resources. I understand Jimbob, but dude, Wikipedia is pretty damn informative.
That all being said, here are the "final" versions of my 6 poems. Jayme Fow Fow this is supposed to be your wet dream.
At least I’m inside a hot demon (Double rhyme scheme 10/8/6/10)
By Rob Moore
Insomnia like an infection,
fleets can never win without rest.
Feats mean nothing in loss.
Suffocating without celebration.
Azrael physically powerful.
Demon imps unearth and infest,
top lungs, sadistic scream.
Schnell, pillage, slash. Resistance. Futile.
Excruciating unforgiving sin,
today’s army will never rest.
Delay agony, blessed
Breaths take forever, once and again,
for full alveoli capacity.
Lustful, hedonism, her chest.
Hades caldron handle.
Gore along the floor, a monster belly.
Who will be the first rat to forgo their
eternal sentence? Empty nest?
Internal grumbling
bulimic hunger pangs, escape is rare.
Puppet Master of Affection (litany without repition)
By Rob Moore
To know me is to know God.
How does God exist in this realm?
What is your paradise?
I desire more then a simple conventional heaven.
I think we should chat.
I think we should date.
Secrets aren’t meant for your big mouth.
I exposed deliverance.
I will let my muse out when I am ready.
Sing. I want to hold your hand.
We should take the next step, slowly.
You mean leap? Don’t you trust me?
Can’t let go, it’s my salvation.
I’ve already Berlin-walled your inhibitions.
You swear you aren’t lying?
No, I love you.
Did it break?
I’d notice that.
Positive?!
Whoops!
I hoped eternal damnation skipped my generation like the twin gene. Recessive my ass!
I figured marijuana left me sterile like those commercials say.
How could this happen?
Well…I was slightly inebriated on an existential level of transcendence; I was above and beyond anything thing that could ever be explained through words, just shared through emotions and feelings. My Id consumes me.
I can’t believe I’m covering up sins with more sins. Two wrongs make no right.
Relax, even if God exists, Jesus died for our right to have operations when he was risen.
Have I become everything I hate?
This isn’t my first clinic.
Why did I fall for an asshole?
Why am I so honest?
At least he’s sincere. Let’s get married.
At least she’s rich. Let’s get divorced.
Diagnosis? Heartbreak Psychosis (high jews)
By Rob Moore
In the depths of despair
Thin, fine line. Razor
edges shine, thrilling twinkle.
Crimson dragon roars.
A front, a disguise
Hopeless exploiter
eats kids with ranch then rapes them.
So just kidding! (sigh)
Manifestation of errors
Justifications:
Gaudy Oldsmobile
no money
Bugs Bunny hoodie.
Fuck you brainless bitch
A worthless fuck box.
Unprotected adultery.
I hope you get AIDS.
99 cents per text and additional charges and rates may apply
“Desired frolic?!”
“Overdue libido abuse?”
“Masturbate to me ;-)”
Ultra desperation move
Emotions fleeting.
Reciprocal yearning bling.
Colossal wedding.
7 Clichés
Nice: Make love to me.
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Naughty: Fuck me hard.
Fables of Destiny OR Titles for you, Poem for me.
By Rob Moore
You could say anything is from some video game for the epigraph and he’d believe you
-Anonymous
Seven Estoiles
collect Moon
mystic variegation
eternal sapphire
riot ocean
azure delusion.
Drauga Den
Leviathan Warrior
supernatural knight
radiate Earth.
Bahamut Loch
sinister savior
Diablo ultima
breathe inferno
dragon valor.
Mêlée Olympus
aurous Sun
mazes providence
terrain stalker
surreptitious Mana.
Silhouette Tower
Goddess Minerva
chrono spark
equinox rhapsody.
First reality
spend sphere.
Continue, Hero?
A KKKRISTMAS (Terza Rima 11/10/11)
By Rob Moore
Reindeer joyride hauls drunken clansmen in tunics.
Westward chants, southern star spangle banners,
to sling and cleave, dangle. Wily xenophobes.
All American undercover planners.
Guiding principle is seeded. Corrupt
in every forum. Forgetful of murders.
Brother, over here brother. Knock out head butt;
Ku clan crowds. Full-size bucket of chicken,
skinless, shared while brothers’ bullet booms the gut.
Absolute perfection, immense air, stricken.
Gather around crosses. Sign of peace. Love!
Drafting more eggnog lets terrorism thicken.
Torches to distribute. Oil, emptied above,
disperses. Souls dance like tremors. Flames.
Ceremonially relinquish pallid doves.
Dancing to sounds of screams, lighthearted games;
glare into eyes of dire peril. Fearful
tempests of misfortune without any shame.
Cork popping clanks. This is Christmas. This is cheer.
Sing Jingle Bells under a carnage flare;
vast peak, indulging on more communal beers.
Victims formed ash, vanish, evaporate.
Warped Rubik’s cube of apathy infests cynics.
No known names. No official says one word.
Too radiant. Turn a blind eye for heretics.
Slayer Imprisoned (FUCKING USE IMAGES YOU STUPID FUCKS! HOW COULD I MAKE IT ANY MORE OBVIOUS THAT WE, AS A CLASS, NEED MORE IMAGES IN OUR POEMS SO THAT WE GET DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS IN OUR MINDS. FOR FUCKS SAKE, SERIOUSLY! IMAGES IMAGES IMAGES IMAGES.)
By Rob Moore
Dig fingers
in sockets.
Oozing occipital fluids.
Squish.
Hikers thumb
pierces mouth.
Palm bonds in
mauled structures.
I throw
a bowling ball.
Strike.
Skull slammed
against door.
Sickening thud.
Adrenaline fueled
vomit.
Deformed face
like Mr. Potato Head
without accessories.
Gasping.
No death
for you,
I want suffering.
I lick fingers.
Tastes like revenge.
Tangy.
I wrote what could be considered the rough-non-real-draft of a college creative writing thesis and I'm almost finished with my attempt. It's like 80 pages or something. Also, Super Smash Brothers Brawl apparently comes out Feb. 10th, which is a month after my birthday, so I am "Donezo" until Feb. 10th when I will celebrate my birthday and get SSBB for the Wii I never got...hfldafjhakl, not Jayme's SN. (Also for surgery and anesthesia sakes, I'm addicted). More on all of this at a later date, but...it's like 6:45 and I'm kind of actually tired. I haven't slept hardly at all lately, averaging about 10 hours over 4 days the past 2 to 3 weeks. It sucks, but the sleep deprivation aura is intense somethings and it is quite relaxing to be so far out, meditating in that state of mind rocks. WooT.
I miss you all a lot,
Love, Rob
More? Read on?
Love Rob
The Fruit Is Hung Like Vicks Dogs or Benoits Family, Whatever Is More Offensive.
By Rob Moore
Based on: Still Life Paestum
By Charles Rain
But mostly by Rob Moore
Fruit hung
Among columns.
Golems protect the bait. Traps
Off maps include dreaded pits o’doom.
No room
For fault.
Assault the beast
My niece, The Dark Wizard.
Blizzard! Cast it! That was close, dear.
No Fear
Allowed.
We vowed, in a bind
To find the cure, we loot
The fruit. No time, we cast haste and hurry.
Fuck Scurvy.
AWESOME PARTY AT DAN’S FRIDAY…ask for directions! Do not park in the rear.
By Rob Moore
I really enjoy Christmas
Especially the eve of
It replaces boring class
And expressions of peace and love.
This family gathering
With snow falling above
Wholesome discussions bring
Reminiscing of past years.
Joy of politics, clever zings
And a few drunken beers
Allows the whole clan
To be involved in the cheer.
A white elephant game plan
And candles to ignite
Brings a euphoria Dan
Couldn’t begin to fight.
It is tradition to please us
On this Holiest of Night
Won’t you rise again, Jesus?
And truly test your might?
A scene from an Untitled piece stuck in my brain: The Three Sisters meet Reno
An “aspiring musical movement” by Rob Moore
Yes, we are the three sisters, and we really like to play.
Let us in, let’s drink and dance and maybe you’ll get laid.
Ohh yeah, give me that! Ooh yeah, let us have our way!
We Curse and smoke and even toke!
And did someone mention a 4-way poke?
Only 3 inches, come on now, is that a joke?
Whew, thank god it was! Sky the Nympho said
She was sucking Bill off in front of Ned
She tongued until her face was red
I really want to make him cum
Because I really think it’s yum
The texture is great. Oh and um…
Who the hell put that in my bum?
Ok, hurry up so Ned gets some
I really think I need more rum
And I have to pee, oh hey Hun!
Fix your mascara so it don’t run
We invite ourselves in, consume all your alcohol
We’ll use all the toilet paper and upset y’all
We’ll make you drive us to the mall
Did you hear about those sales for this fall?
I dresses to make the competition gasp in appall
And I rape unwilling clerks in their bathroom stall
We can start it in the bedroom!
We can do it on Mushrooms!
Or the helium from Balloons!
Cock makes me go Vroom Vroom
I’ve never met a man, not even a groom
Who can resist me, not even Bor Eroom
Especially when I talk about the Technodrome
Ha-ha-ha, damn that was a really good one
Ooh, yeah, we love to kid around, just listen son
When we are together we often get on a run
Ooh, yeah, we love to kid around, just listen son
We don’t need drugs, it just adds to the fun
Ooh, yeah, we love to kid around, just listen son
Oh, how I love my sister sky
She really knows how to please a guy
That is nowhere near a lie
I’d kill for her if she ever cried
I wouldn’t quit until I cut off a thigh
People come up and ask us why
We are who we are and how we get by
We tell them to shut up and to get high!
Vices are like Mice’s, don’t be shy
Get out and get whatever you want, aye
Fern the Pyro could even be worse
She often becomes quite perverse
Her fire fetish has lead many to a hearse
And she keeps matches in her purse
It’s Ferns thing, it’s not a curse
Please quit it, come on, that tickles
OWW!! Ha! I just smashed his testicles
Oh Snap! That’s my song by Mystical!
Hey! Best listen to me Hue Finster
Turn that shit up, or I will become gangster
And set this place afire, I’m evil and sinister
So if you would get off of my little sister
She won’t go home with you, mister
Unless you learn how to administer
The drug for pleasure, front and center
Is this loud enough, boo?
Please, do not kill Hue
He’s just one measly Jew
It’s just murder; I should even off a few…
Wait; is that a weed pipe on you?
We should smoke a bowl or two.
And put a log in the fireplace too?
And maybe get some better brew?
Awe, what a cute pussy cat, mew!
I have this game, it’s brand new!
Smash Bros!?!? Yay! I’m good as Mewtwo.
Wow, the fire flames look like Gishnew.
We are complete as a unit, but we can split up
We know what’s what and can even answer “sup?”
We aren’t fools, like those pesky kids and that pup
My sisters are simple, they are the runts
Fern pulls no punches, she gets what she wants
I’m even worse; I’m kind of a cunt
The one that even you would like to punt
I love sky, she loves to fuck and grunt
She inspired me to hide things in my cunt
For I am the Clepto, easy going is just a front
I will steal from you more than a sign of bunt
Ewe, gross, their room smells like cunt
I guess that it is time for me to begin the hunt
Ha, I’ll start with that half smoked blunt
Score one for the eldest sister, Micki Quunt
This guy is a fucking loser, he reads Kant
I think this ring would be a great gift for my Aunt
For she was the one who taught me to be such a filthy…
Oh there you are. No ones in the know
Where you were or amount of stolen dough
You must admit, this Quunt is thorough
She gets what she wants, even though
She looks like the 5 guys named Mo
Do duo dooo dada dot Doe!
Oh wow, oh my goodness?
Why, just who could do this?
That hot boy, he broke our thesis…
His eyes make our hearts melt into pieces
Hey! You! We aren’t joking about
A 4 way, it would be like a sexual title bout
Please come over and just whip it out
We’ll beg and even scream and shout!
But one question, what’s your name, scout?
Hi the names Reno, I’m single and really rock
My hair is almost longer then my cock
I heard you were in need of a sexual hawk
Let’s go upstairs, hang up a sock
Don’t worry about receiving the cock of block
I punched the last one who came to knock
When there was a damn sock on that Lock
Hey Fern, I heard you like the temperate hot
How about I light a candle, or maybe a lot
Pour the wax on your belly, caress your knot
Light your hair on fire while you lay on my cot
To put it out I’ll hock up some snot
Don’t worry about damages, my dad owns a yacht
I can pay for new extensions, you fucking fembot
You mean you aren’t even the dirty skank?
That title must belong to Micki, your pussy is rank
Oh my, this vagina is like a vault in a bank?
A ring inside your snatch, how dare you yank
My roommates ring, best enjoy your spank
If you do me right, I’ll forgive your jank
Get down on your knees and give me thanks
So I take it that you are the true dirty little whore
Told your mom throat surgery was so you don’t snore
A deep throat specialist, oh Sky, how I adore
A girl like this is from the penthouse Lore
One two Three Four, get your ass on the floor
I’m going to abuse you like a little Boar
Ahh, sexual release, now get the fuck out my door.
I can’t believe the way we were treated
The way it felt when my pussy was eatted
I can’t believe it, I’m getting heated
Could it be that three sisters were defeated?
Hey girls, come downstairs, please be seated
Oh thank god! More boys to be skeeted!
Repulsively, I don’t sleep: By Rob Moore
Reward for victory over my insomnias
a victory no less stiff against navy fleets.
Sleepings among the most difficult of feats.
Too bad this dream was no cause for mitzvahs.
Demon woman ascends. ‘I am Azrael.’
Beautiful lady, she said she was from the depths of hell.
Satan desires my life-force. ‘Azrael Schnell!
Another human soul’ erotic banshee yell.
Gorgeous anti-deity is the Angel of Death.
The time of purification is on hand.
Silver scythe dark like evil Raiders'f Oakland.
Looking her up and down a sigh of breath.
‘Hello mortal with a pension for lust’.
Going to die; I'll rub my penis, make it cumbust.
Azrael laughs, 'Your sin is fun, in me you tryst.'
She left a scroll and away she went with a gust.
The memo was clear and written in cursive.
A big gigantic laugh as I translate
‘You have to be the ugliest I've made masturbate.’
Even in my dreams women find me repulsive.
Heartbroken Haikus are like the blues
When we break our hearts
We always seem to think about
How tragic life is.
But what about when
the roles are reversed and
You shatter a heart?
Justification
For dumping a former lover
Can be more stupider
Than I sounded on
Line nine. Bad car, ugly shirt,
Superficial, trite.
Holding ourselves
To the same standards, inspite of
How we are programmed
Allows evolution
To take it’s course in life. Treat
Me like you treat you
This does not mean that
Just because I want to fuck you
You should sex me up
Consensual, mutual
Love is what I want to bring--
And a wedding ring.
Japanese Arm Cannon.
Fuck You Stupid Bitch.
I hope you get aids and die
From the fucking aids.
Dragoon Pharaoh Shot
I’m sorry…………………………………………it happens. ……………………………..
Two men isn’t my thing…………………………………………………………………...I
Mostly think of……………………………..you………?!!……………………………???
Bass and Treble Shock!
“In a poem should I talk appropriately about sex or grossly about sex?”
“Only if we can be mature about it but be slightly vulgar with the fucking sucking!”
“No it’s too offensive, but go on ahead and bust a nut twice on she.”
really love Rob if you actually read all of this