"It’s a good thing that you’re so huge and bald. It makes finding you in a crowd easy.--
—My girlfriend.
She left her phone in her car in a parking lot and had to find me in Times Square. On a Saturday Night. She totally did find me too. I’m hard to miss…
I have some gossip about Clairebeast, the girl that mortally and psychologically wounded me 23 years ago, at the tender age of 7. I know that this is one of those “Urban Legend” style tales. Too wild and loony to believe. However, I saw it with my own eyes. And I have other witnesses. Witnesses that aren’t fat kids. Who don’t lie.
For reasons that escape me, and are also not truly important, Clairebeast publicly masterbated with a hotdog. In my highschool cafeteria. In front of a crowd.
I saw it.
With my own two eyes.
She pulled off her panties, lifted her skirt and did the nasty deed.
Which caused the hotdog, uncooked mind you, to break in half. And lodge its self inside her.
The look of panic (manic panic, like the hairspray, only scarier) was priceless. As was the waddle-walk-of-shame that she took to the nurse’s office…
I think that a couple pieces even fell out of her on the way, but… you know.. this was over a decade ago and I’m a little brain damaged due to a head-bump I got from her…
This became a daily torment for her for a couple of months, until everyone forgot about it and started to make fun of LaFonda’s water breaking in the auditorium during the music department’s performance of “Jesus Christ Superstar”…
Basically, I guess the point of this is that what comes around goes around. Or maybe the point is that hotdogs don’t always plump when you cook them? Or… maybe there’s no real point. At any rate, I’m off to bed…
"That lady did some voodoo on your hat!--
—Some crazy lady that my sister overheard on Main St. here in my hometown.
The hat?
… Based on the descriptions given.
When I was in first grade i was super smart. I got to sit at the head of the class, and when all the other turdlings couldn’t answer the questions it was my fat ass that got called up to the blackboard. This caused jelousy from some of the other students. Like ClairBeast.
ClairBeast’s real name is not too important, but suffice it to say I will hold a grudge against her for the rest of my life. I’ve been holding it since 1987, so .. 23 years and counting.
One day, after answering a question on the blackboard, I go to sit down in my chair and… it’s not there. Now, before I sat down I did the standard check of “is there a chair here? Y/N”. It passed the test, so I proceeded to sit down, when ClairBeast pulled the chair out from under me, causing me to smash my face on my desk (which was made of enameled ceramics, a standard desktop material at the time).
I was gushing blood out of a hole in my cheek that was caused by a tooth popping through. Teacher, a 30 year old drunken whore according to my mother, told me to go rinse it out at the fountain. The fountain with the high lead content.
Eventually my mom got called, ran from work (3 blocks away) and got me to the hospital. Where the doctor decided that it was a case of child abuse and called the police. Who, as I’m being operated on by a recent medical school graduate from the college of Banglore Provence, decide to interrogate my mother about how often she hits me, why she hit me so hard and what she used to hit me with this time.
Meanwhile I’ve got a sheet over my head, don’t know what’s going on, and the doctor’s telling me to “Quit squirming, you little fucktard”. Or at least that’s how I remember it.
At any rate, I hate doctors, can’t stand dental work and want to punch ClairBeast in the throat. 23 years later.
I found her on Facebook. I wanna befriend her and then ask her if she remembers pulling the chair out from under me.
A friend of mine works at a retail store where they sell video games. They keep the games in glass cases, and then add a sort of security lock to the little bar that the games are attached to, so that you can’t just grab a game, you have to ask for it. It’s called “Loss Prevention” and is a big part of corporate retail strategies. (The more you know….)
So some dude comes in, jimmies open the case and grabs armfuls of video games. Like when he goes to sell them at the flea market or off of a card-table in the projects anyone’s gonna doubt that they’re stolen? Or care?
Well the store security catches him and chases him into a corner. Where he proceeds to take his pants down, take a dump and smear it all over the video games, and then hold out his hands to sort of ward off the security guards.
Which worked.
Because he got away.
But not with the games.
Which had to be marked as a loss. By one of the minimum wage earning kids.
At least they didn’t just restock them…
But here’s the thing that bugs me… I can’t poop on demand like that. My BM’s are so regular that God uses them to plan sun-up and sun-down. You can synchronize Gregorian, Hebrew and Chinese calendars to my poops. But anyway, I’m thinking that this guy planned that as a backup plan. That’s what I’d do. Either that or fill a Supersoaker with piss. and leave it to ferment for a couple of days.
But that’s just me.
