Tag: dirty

Green Beans

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Momma always said you ain’t lonely when you got green beans.
So, I got these here green beans. I hugged on them, and they snapped all so happy.
They now my friends.
Course, I also hungry, so maybe I put some here butter and salt on em.
They sure do mighty delicious. I could just eat one and…
Oh, one more… okay?
Wait… I’ll be right back…
Oh no. I done ate them all. My friends.
I got me an idea… I’ll just go to the bathroom and wait.
When I see them again, I’m gonna hug them so tight!

Unicorns

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I hate unicorns.
I especially hate the ones that leave a trail of sparkles everywhere they go.
Sparkles turn to soggy ash after a while.
You see the sparkly herd of unicorns prancing and running, but I have to deal with the disgusting grey piles they leave behind.
Speaking of piles, did you know that unicorns do not shit rainbows?
If you don’t know what they shit, then you don’t want to know.
Just sit there in your fantasy bubble with unicorns and rainbows and sparkles.
One day, you’ll get gored through the chest, and you’ll finally see the truth.

Poland

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It’s rare to find a travel agency these days. Websites have all but eliminated the industry.
Maybe it’s just an old habit, but I still go to the travel agent downtown.
I think it’s the desks, the window displays, and posters that draw me.
One in particular. It’s a beautiful valley scene, and below is written: “The Nazis were cruel fuckers and Poland is beautiful.”
Every other travel poster has a beautiful scene and the country or city name, but my eyes keep getting drawn back to the Polish one.
Maybe, when all the Nazis are dead, I’ll go there.

With every lick

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How many licks does it take to get to the center of this lollipop?
Thanks to the replenishment spell on my tongue, the number is infinite.
With every lick, I restore what I have licked away.
Sure, it was painful to tattoo the sigils on my tongue, but I think it was well worth it.
The problem is, in casting the spell, my tongue has lost all sense of taste.
It’s like licking a marble on a stick now. Candy has lost all appeal.
I mean Candy, my apprentice.
She may enjoy it, but I’m left out in the cold.

The Brick Hater

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Arthur had an irrational hate for anything made using ancient adobe architecture.
Mud, clay, water, and straw were a recipe for rage in Arthur’s brain, and he’d been arrested many times for smashing at ruddy brown walls with a hammer or smashing bulldozers into them.
His mother sighed and said Arthur’s older brother had covered him with mud and straw, then left him in the sun to bake and harden.
“At least it wasn’t cake,” said the doctor.
“Who the fuck makes houses out of cake?” Arthur’s mother replied.
The doctor stroked his beard and grunted. “I wish I knew.”

The Garage

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Hewlett-Packard was founded in a garage. So was Apple.
Famous Amos started in his kitchen.
Me, I start businesses all over this house.
The bank began in the bathroom, consulting firms in the crawl space, and my shed led to the creation of a quarter of the Fortune 500.
If you look in the dishwasher, you’ll see some venture capitalists checking the industry broadsheets, looking for good investments.
It’s getting harder to find good talent, so I’m founding a business school in my pants.
Care to check out my generous endowment?
Um… try again, stupid. It’s in my back pocket.

Gutter

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Hi. My name is Gus Gustafson.
I design gutters. The best in town.
If you need a gutter, get Gus!
That’s on the side of my truck.
I put a lot of thought into my gutters.
You could say that my mind is always in the gutter.
And you’d be right. When I’m not designing gutters on my computer, I’m using it to download and watch hardcore pornography.
While watching a midget amputee rape a donkey, I notice that the gutters on their bungalow are uneven and sagging.
So is the midget, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

When you wish upon a shotgun

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I was rubbing the barrel of an old shotgun when a genie came out of it.
“Shouldn’t you be in a lamp or a bottle?” I asked.
“I was drunk,” he said.
He’s offered me three wishes, but would you accept wishes from a genie who can’t find a decent lamp to live in?
Especially one who’s a drunk.
And, boy, does this genie drink.
“I thought you cleaned the shotgun,” he slurs. “Man does this place stink!”
“You’re not in the shotgun,” I say. “You’re up my dog’s ass.”
So, once again, I’ll trade you for that monkey’s paw.

group therapy

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every time i hear someone say that i’m as crazy as a shithouse rat, it pisses me off.
i’m far, far crazier than a shithouse rat. in fact, in group therapy, when i was put in a room full of shithouse rats, the shithouse rats all cowered in a corner while i just sat there and grinned.
one by one, i bit their heads off and ate them. their crazy skulls crunched between my teeth, like rat-flavored candies.
now the doctors just drug me and tie me up. but to be honest, i’ve never been a fan of group therapy.

Sexy Burrito Of War

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At a fast food Mexican shithole, well past midnight, I’m looking up and down the menu.
Breakfast tacos. It’s what I always get-
WAIT!
What the fuck is a Sexy Burrito Of War?
I ask the guy behind the counter, and I can see his knuckles go white as he grips the register.
“You want the Sexy Burrito Of War? Seriously?”
No, I just want to know what the fuck it is.
Maybe I’ll want it if it sounds good. Maybe not.
I have to sign a release form. Run on a treadmill.
Maybe I’ll just have some breakfast tacos.