Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Some other slaps to the face my mommy has made famous

Here are just a few of the other slap to the face moves my mommy has made famous over the years:

The High-Low. She approaches you with her arms outstretched, as if she's coming in for a hug. Then she slaps you in the face with both hands simultaneously, one hand striking high - around the temple - and the other striking low - around the jaw, causing your head to rotate violently on its vertical axis, like a ferris wheel (opposed to its horizontal axis, which would be more like a helicopter).

The Rednecker. She approaches you with her hand in a slap-ready position, but right before she launches it, she kicks you in the shins. When you reach down to soothe the pain, she uses all of her weight to slap down on the back of your neck, leaving a deep, deep welt that makes you look like an Alabama farmer in the middle of August. Also, if she catches you just right, your hair will probably fall out on impact.

The Deuce. This one involves my mommy sneaking up on you and slapping you flush in the mouth in such a way that a large air pocket is forced down into your intestines, leaving you with a strange, but very real, sensation that you need to make a bowel movement.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Who would win in a fight between my mommy and Paddie McLongjohn's freak-show fat mother?

I've been thinking about this for a while: Who would win in a fight between my mommy and Paddie McLongjohn's freak-show fat mother? Paddie McLongjohn's freak-show fat mother is, obviously, a lot bigger than my mommy and tends to favor the bear hug, which, in her case, is a virtual life ender. My mommy, however, is much quicker and is incredibly skilled at slapping people in the face. She's like a Mexican boxer. You can try to protect yourself any way you want, but she'll find a way to slap your face over and over again. She has this one move where she makes as if she going to uppercut slap your face with her right, but when you move your hands to deflect the blow, she comes over the top with her left and slaps your face so hard that you lose the ability to reason and, sometimes, to see. Other times, she'll fake a roundhouse slap to the face with her right, pretend like she's coming in with the left, and then finish off the previously aborted roundhouse with a thunderous slap to your face. I couldn't hear for a week after she first nailed me with that one.

After careful thought, I think my mommy would probably take down Paddie McLongjohn's freak-show fat mother, but it would be an epic battle.

Friday, July 14, 2006

My cellmate hates that I was showing off so much skin in public

As I said before, I'm a master improviser. I was able to fix the nudity issue by fashioning a diaper out of a discarded newspaper. The lack of money, however, was a problem I couldn't overcome, so I simply stole the cigarettes and sped out of the convenience store. Unfortunately, a half-naked man wearing nothing but a newspaper diaper and riding an adult trike is quite conspicuous, so I was quickly apprehended by the police. When my cellmate saw what I was wearing, he became rather testy.
"You didn't go out in public like that, did you?" he asked.
"It's no business of yours what I wear," I responded.
"It certainly is when you're living in my cell," he said.
"Your cell?" I was incredulous. "This cell belongs to both of us!" His expression changed.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I just don't like the idea of all those dirty men out there undressing your newspaper diaper with their eyes," he said. "Look at us; we just had our first fight."
"I guess so," I responded, "if you don't count the time you repeatedly slammed my head against the wall while you sodomized me last week."
"Well, by fight, I meant argument, silly," he said pulling me closer. "Now, let's get a fresh newspaper diaper on you. I don't want you to chafe."

Thursday, July 13, 2006

I woke up this morning sitting on top of a bicycle

You'll never believe where I found myself this morning when I woke up. That's right, sitting atop my mommy's bicycle in the garage with both hands on the handlebars. It's actually more of a tricycle, the kind made for really old people who no longer have the faculties to balance on two wheels. I awoke because my mommy was screaming at me from the other room. "Hey, skin-head fur-face, I need cigarettes, now!" It's not the way anyone wants to be woken up in the morning, but seeing that I was already mounted on a mode of transportation, my trip to the store to get my mommy her Newports was conveniently made quicker and easier. I hit the automatic garage door opener and off I rolled. I'll deal with my complete nakedness and lack of money later, I thought as I pedaled down the driveway. I'm an improviser.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Joey Coconut thinks he's all that

I saw Joey Coconut coming up my walkway this morning and met him at my front door. "Why you coming to my crib and trying to get all up in my grille?" I asked him all tough like. "I'm not trying to start anything, William, I just wanted to let you know that I've dropped the charges against you and plan to cover the cost of the repairs to the house myself." I didn't back down. "Oh, Massah, thankee. Thankee, Massah." He looked at me funny. "Is that supposed to be an Irish accent?" he asked. "No, it's a slave accent, on account of the fact that you're trying to make me feel like one." He replied: "I'm doing no such thing, you stupid turd, I'm trying to give you a break so that you can make something of your pathetic life." He turned and walked away.

Who'll be the stupid turd when I steal his identity and run him into the poor farm? I thought to myself. You, Joey Coconut. You will be the stupid turd! I laughed and turned back inside.
"Hey, Fatty Beardo," screamed a voice from inside the house, "close the door, you pathetic hippo, before you let all the warm air out!"
"Yes, mommy," I replied. "Sorry about that, mommy."

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

I think I might throw up

I'm not feeling particularly well today. I think I might throw up. Wait a minute, wait a minute ... No, false alarm. I thought I was just about to throw up, but I didn't. Uh-oh, here it comes again; it's coming this time, it's coming, here it comes ... Nope, another close call. Phew, I was sure I was ... Hold on! Hold on! This is the real deal. This is the real deal ... Huh. Nothing again. I thought for sure I was ... Nobody move! Nobody move! This is not a test! ... Well, there was a bit of a dry heave there, but not much else. Honestly, I'm starting to feel a little better. Maybe I won't ... Red alert! Red alert! Grab your underpants, everybody, the floodgates are about to open! Stand back ... Well, ain't that the darndest? Nothing again, although I have a sneaking suspicion I may have just shit my pants.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Things are a bit awkward between me and my cellmate

Apparently, it's against the law to leave the scene of an accident, so, since I was out on probation for hitting Les LaFoiegras in the face with a hammer last week, I've been placed back in jail in the same cell I was in before. Things are a bit awkward between me and my cellmate because of what happened the last time I saw him.
"Oh, hi," he said when he realized I was back. "I was, you know, meaning to, uh, call you, but, you know, I've been real busy in here."
"Yeah, right," I replied, with a hint of sarcasm in my tone.
"And, uh, I only, you know, get one phone call, uh, a day, and, uh, I didn't, you know, have your number or anything."
"It's scratched right here on the wall," I said. "I told you that, so don't pretend like you didn't know."
"Oh, right," he said. "I, uh, lost my, uh, phone privileges last week, so, you know, I, uh, couldn't call."
"Don't fucking lie to me!" I screamed. "Just stop lying! Okay?"
"Okay," he replied quietly.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. Then we both reached for the newspaper that sat between us at the same time and our hands brushed against each other. We looked into each other's eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't call," he whispered.
"I know you are," I said. "I know you are."

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Ooops! I rammed my car through Joey Coconut's house again

Lightning may never strike the same spot twice, but, apparently, my car can. That old lady/stop sign jumped out at me again this afternoon, causing me to jump the curb, criss-cross through oncoming traffic, and plow through Joey Coconut's livingroom, where he was watching daytime television. I took out two bicyclists, a dogwalker and his dog, and three saplings recently planted by the city in its recent beautification campaign on the way. All, save for the saplings, are expected to recover. Joey Coconut's livingroom, however, will need to be repaired yet again. "That cost me $40,000 to fix the first time, you retard!" Joey Coconut yelled at me. "Who's going to pay for this?" I thought about it for a moment. "That old lady out there should probably pay. It's her fault." When Joey stuck his head out the hole to see who I was referring to, I slipped out his back door and ran all the way home. That'll teach that asshole for calling me poor the last time I reamed a hole through his house.