Mime

My mom was a mime, and yet somehow my dad would still tell her to shut the fuck up 20 times a day.

"But she's completely silent," I would protest.

"She's thinkin' ain't she? I can hear her fuckin' thinkin' and her fucking thinkin' ain't makin' me dinner."

"But it's 8:30 in the morning."

"What are you Captain Clock?"

Mom would just stay in character, silently being trapped in her invisible box. I would smile and Dad would grimace and spit, satisfied that his sputum always made it through her invisible walls.

"Why don't you mime your way into a wood box six feet underground you bitch."

I always thought that was a stupid thing to say since when she did speak mama always made her wish to be cremated very clear.

"I don't think you understand mime at all dad."

Hoosegow

I had some strange dreams the other night. I dreamt I was actually awake and throwing acid into the face of the priest who molested me, even though who could blame him really...did you see how adorable I looked in my cassock? Like a lovable little pope!

So after I dreamt I threw acid in his face and then urinated on him in order to "put the fire in his eyes out", I felt the policeman handcuff me. I asked him to pinch me cause I thought I was dreaming, and then added he could pinch me anywhere he wanted cause I could tell by his bulge pressing into my back that he liked me. Did I mention I was adorable?

Turns out that wasn't really his bulge though, but his nightstick, which he promptly clobbered me with.

Turns out I wasn't really dreaming one of those sleep dreams either, but it was more of a drug induced haze dream. The acid was real though. As were the assault with a deadly weapon charges.

But I've always been an optimist. When I was being raped as a lad I always said, "one day, if I dream it hard enough, I'll be able to throw acid in this fairy's face."

That dream came true, and I know my dream of having a really awesome cell mate will come true too. So now I have prison to look forward to, and from what I've read it's got a gym and a library and lots of interesting people with similar interests. It's kind of like a resort except you can't steal the towels and rape is prevalent.

But I don't have to worry about that cause I was already raped once, and I've heard rape is like lightning, you can't get struck twice.

Human Pretzel

Back in her circus days my Grandma was known as the "Human Pretzel". She didn't actually perform but was notorious for fucking multiple clowns at the same time on off days. They red nosed bastards got a big kick out of how the prim and proper circus accountant could contort her body, and urged her to develop an act for under the big tent. She insisted her first love was math however, and refused to use her flexibility for anything other than private pleasure, for her and her big dicked buffoons.

Grandma would come home from weeks on the road, back aching and giant shoe prints embedded in her ass. She was happy though. She said she was following her dream. Accounting paid the bills but being around performers who brought joy to children filled her soul with song, and those clowns knew how to fuck.

Needless to say Grandpa was none too pleased with the relationship. He was the circus Ringmaster and it really boiled his whip to see the glee in which those clowns would pile into their car after the big top emptied out and scoot over to Grandma's trailer. It was only a matter of time before he drugged the lion tamer just long enough to lead the lion over to the stuffed clown car after one show in Memphis.

I can still hear his cry of "Revenge!" echo through my head whenever I go to kid's parties even now.

"Revenge!" No matter how loud the wail of the police siren gets or how piercingly the children scream, and man those kids sure can scream, I can still hear my Grandpa's cry echo through my head again and again as I just keep running across that yard, wearing only a clown nose and carrying a whip, naked and free.

Bowling is Fun

A good way to get kicked out of a bowling alley is to throw a severed head down the lane instead of the ball. Sure you'll get a good laugh but unless the attendant is asleep or really into cleaning the shoes you're sure to get tossed. That's why it's best to do it on the tenth frame after you've already gotten your money's worth.

If you're really committed to staying you can try to make a case for yourself by pointing out that you're wearing regulation shoes and didn't step over the line. Those bowling alley people are real sticklers for that sort of thing and that might help calm then down a little.

Still when they look down that lane and see that severed head in the gutter staring back at them, (and it will be in the gutter mind you, throwing a strike with a severed head is darn near impossible!), they are more than likely going to be pretty strict and insist on your expulsion, even when you ask to see the bowling by laws that prevent heads from being tossed down lanes.

As a last ditch effort as your being manhandled towards the door try screaming out that the head belonged to a bad person, who didn't consider bowling a real sport. If the attendant is a true bowling lover with low self esteem he may grant you a reprieve.

Nervous Wedding Day

Did you ever wake up so full of vigor that you felt you could accomplish anything you ever wanted? Did you ever get so high that you shit in your shower and tried to take a shower in your toilet? Well I sure as shit didn't do that on the morning of my wedding, despite what some jealous and vindictive slut of a bride's maid might say.

In an unrelated note, don't you think that if you love someone, and are ready to spend your whole life with them, and keep the really expensive ring they gave you, that you wouldn't flip out just cause you rudely come into the bathroom without knocking and see a little feces on the tiles and your fiance naked with his ass in the air and head in the toilet, trying to get rid of his dandruff with Clorox?

At least I can say I had a fantastic bachelor's party.

Papa Tells Me Stories

My grandpa used to read me bedtime stories, but because he was both dyslexic and a drunk it turns out that he would just hold a book in front of his face and make shit up in a whiskey fueled haze til I fell asleep or he passed out, whichever came first. Thus I was 25 before I found out that Tinkerbell did not, in fact, live in Peter Pan's asshole and that he got his magical flying powers from the way her feathery wings would tickle his anus.

Seeing Hook was a real eye opener I can tell you that. I have a lot to be thankful to Julia Roberts for. Life has been grand since I've been disabused of the myth that Peter Pan had a fairy in his rectum, and that whores are generally mean and disease ridden. Some whores are pretty women, who wear pretty brown dresses and don't take any crap from that little fat dude from Seinfeld.

Carpe Diem

Amazing what you can accomplish with a gun and a hard on. Seize the day. Those Latin fucks knew what they were talking about way back when. When I woke up this morning I didn't think I would be having my first threesome before noon, but it just goes to show that if you put your mind to something, and you have a loaded revolver, you can really do a lot.

It's after lunch now and I'm having second thoughts. Should I really be bragging about a three way? Is it truly a menage a trois if it was rape? I knew making a bucket list before breakfast was a mistake. I just can't think straight on an empty stomach, but my cock can sure get hard! Why is that? I guess I'll leave that question up to the scientists and go pay a visit to my attorney.