Now, I am a husband and father, which is incredibly better times, much safer times, times with no fear of waking up half drunk and stoned on a barren wintry roadside with a mouthful of broken teeth and chlamydia.
Chlamydia sounds like a hell of a good name for a Siberian ninja. His heart is as cold as the Siberian wasteland, but his cock is all oozy and dangerous and burning like he just terror raped Satan. Probably a bad description on my part as I imagine all rape is rife with all manner of terror. There has never been a gentle rapist to my knowledge. It is not possible to make sweet, sweet rape to someone. If you do happen to be smooth enough to be a gentle rapist, odds are you could probably get a woman to go with you willingly to the boudoir.
You can't go all Billy Dee Williams at raping.
The more I think about it, Chlamydia doesn't sound like a silent ninja killer. Syphilis sounds like a silent ninja killer. It just has that sneaky sexy sound, must be those S sounds on the front and back. I guess it's settled, Syphilis is the undisputed king ninja of veneral disease. Chlamydia can still be on the super Siberian ninja squad, but has been demoted to using only throwing stars and dribbling pus out its junkhole as far as I am concerned. Syphilis gets the sai. Herpes gets the katana. Logistically speaking, Crabs would get the grappling hook. Those Siberian Mustache Crabs are the scourge of the hinterlands.
If I had an Aunt Phyllis, I would be tempted to call her Aunt Syphilis, but I would probably just end up calling her a giant goat anus because people named Phyllis are usually uptight clits who would never understand anything about the poor raping skills of Billy Dee Williams. Aunt Phyllis just wouldn't understand why Lando gets tons of intergalactic tang on the regular.
No one is raping my Aunt Phyllis. Who would want to with that narrow minded attitude.
Yes, its pretty much going to be like this. There is someone else behind this wheel. I guess I just need to be able to say shit like this and not have to see the mortified look on your face.
Let me just go on the record as saying I am anti-rape and pro Billy Dee Williams. Billy Dee Williams is the goddamn shit. And the only way rapists should be able to travel the earth is by dragging their grubby ballbags and assholes along the ground like a dog with worms and those worms have aids, and everywhere they drug their mangled undercarriage the ground would be covered with gravel backed alligators and crazed crack addled snapping turtles swimming in a river of lava and boiling hot sauce. And no dicks. They get no dicks. Balls are left for the populace to pummel mercilessly at their leisure.
As I was saying, I was once an emotionally crippled self destructive narcissistic asshole who hates you. Now I am not. Externally anyway. I love being a Dad, a husband, working a mundane job that drills me daily into submission. Like a child, I need structure to keep me in line. If history has taught me anything it is that left to my own devices I will surely destroy myself. But not in a depressing way. In a fun way. A guy you would laugh at when they described how moronically I died on the evening news. I would be the lamest cautionary tale, because you should already know fucking better.
So now, I smile politely at random people and help frail old ladies at the supermarket who need the hemorrhoid cream off of the top shelf. I don't want to, but I do it. The pressue of society makes me do it. I don't feel better about myself for doing things like that. Letting people pull out in front of me in traffic, cut in line at the store if they have fewer items, holding the goddamn door open. Did they have a lot of doors in Jesus' day, I imagine there were a lot more flaps than doors. It would be much more annoying to hold open a dirty flap, just ask anyone who had to hold open my Aunt Phyllis' raggedy cuntflaps.
I am not sure if that counts for anything at all. Is it beneficial to my immortal soul to do something nice just because it would be inappropriate to tell a short old lady with a sore asshole to fuck right off?
I don't think it counts for much. I am a reluctant samaritan with even the slightest of kind gestures. I think most people are like that, they don't want to be bothered but will pretend they are so happy to help. Maybe I should just grab the item off the shelf, hand it to the old bag and tell her to shove it up her dusty dirthole.
Of course, if it does happen to be anal ointment, that will avail me nothing. Telling her that would just be sound advice.
Hellwagon.
Ninja's are friendly, they say hi-ya!!!
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