Look At The Monkey!

One time this dude who was totally worthless got fired from his job on account of he punched the piss out of his boss because his boss bitched at him one day when he showed up a half hour late smelling like beer and cigarettes. The worthless dude spent the last of the money he had on more beer and cigarettes and he didn’t have enough money to pay the rent so he started selling all his shit at the pawn shop but he spent that money on beer and cigarettes too and he couldn’t pay his rent and he got evicted and he had to go live with his brother.

Now his brother was worthless and unemployed too and he lived in a trailer and they both sat around all day and drank shitty beer and smoked generic cigarettes and watched TV. One night they both got drunk and they got in an argument over what dumbass TV show to watch, and they argued so long both shows they wanted to watch were over anyway, but one of the worthless brothers grabbed a shovel and conked the other worthless brother over the head with it and he croaked and the one worthless living brother threw his worthless dead brother’s body in the sewer and it floated away with the turds.

They never even found the body and the worthless brother went on drinking beer and smoking cigarettes and watching TV in the trailer and didn’t even go to jail because nobody even noticed that his dumbass worthless dead brother was gone and one day the worthless brother went to the store to get a pack of generic cigarettes and he bought a lottery ticket and he won a shitload of money and now he lives in this real nice house and fucks all sorts of women and drinks beer and smokes cigarettes and snorts cocaine all day long and he doesn’t even have any health problems. There is no god. THE END


The Delicate Art of Gargling

One day this Old Man who served one too many tours in Vietnam and lived in this shitty shack in the junkyard was cooking stew, and his toupee fell off his head into the stew. It was pretty gross, because he also used his toupee to scrub down the old abandoned dumpster, where he slept when it rained on account of the shitty shack had all these holes in the roof. He went outside the shitty shack and got himself a stick and fished out the toupee and put it back on. It burnt his head. Then he went to throw the stick back outside, on account of it had bugs all over it, and out of the middle of his eye he saw this doorknob.

Now the old man who lived in the junkyard loved doorknobs, even though he didn’t have a door on account of a bull got loose from one of the farms down the road and it got into the dump and was chasin him around the dump and he ran back into the shitty shack and shut the door but the bull rammed into the door anyway and smashed it up but by then the old man had got to his shotgun and he shot the bull and it died but the kick on the old shotgun knocked the old man on his ass and he hurt his ass so bad he had to sleep face down for about a month.

The old man took the doorknob back inside and commenced to polish it with his ratty toupee, and he shined it up real good but then he remembered he didn’t have a door and he got pissed off and threw the doorknob into the crick. The UPS guy found it while he was delivering a stepladder and eight feet of rope to the old man and the UPS guy took the doorknob home and his wife was fucking some other guy when he walked in and he beat her to death with the doorknob. There is no god.


Cowboy Bob and the Chinamen

One day Cowboy Bob, Gordon, Jimby and Jumby, and Old Man Young were sitting in The Bar drinking piss warm beer, when a Chinaman walked in.

“A Chinaman just walked in,” said Cowboy Bob.

Gordon, who was busy drinking from the pitcher Arnold Schwarzenegger, the bartender, wrung his dirty rag into after he cleaned up a bunch of spilled beer, stood up.

“Who the hell are you?” Gordon said to the Chinaman.

“My name is Pat,” said the Chinaman.  “Pat Yourass.”

Pat Yourass sat down at the bar.

“You want something to drink, Pat?” said Arnold Scwarzenegger.

“No,” said Pat Yourass.  Pat Yourass pulled a package of cookies out of his pocket and commenced to eat them.

“You have to buy something to eat or drink, or you can’t sit there,” said Arnold Schwarzenegger.

“Shut up, fucker,” said Pat Yourass.  Pat Yourass punched Arnold Schwarzenegger in the jaw.

“All right, Pat Yourass,” said Cowboy Bob.  “We don’t put up with no shit from no Chinaman here at The Bar.”

“I don’t give a shit,” said Pat Yourass.  Pat Yourass karate-kicked Cowboy Bob in the face.  Cowboy Bob fell onto the table and knocked everybody’s beer over.

“You fudgepacker!” Gordon bellowed.  He dropped to one knee in front of all the spilled beer and commenced to sob.  “Why?  Why oh why oh why would you do such a thing to such a lowly sort as I?  Was I not a lowly enough man when you, o slant-eyed, vile-hearted bane of mine existence, wandered into The Bar in search of nothing more than a place to eat your cookies?  Oh, good gravy, I now reside in the very abyss of human misery!  You, Pat Yourass, are a cuntlicker!”

Pat Yourass karate kicked Gordon in the face, too.

“That’s it!” Jimby said.  He jumped up from his chair and pulled out his gun.  “No more karate kicking people in The Bar, you cookie-eating craplord!”

“Yeah,” said Jumby.

Jimby shot Pat Yourass in the gut.  Pat Yourass commenced to belch and cough and vomit up mouthfuls of blood and spit it all over the place.  Jumby shot him in the head and his brains splattered all over the floor.  Pat Yourass died.  Gordon vomited on him.

Just then, another Chinaman walked in.

“Another Chinaman just walked in,” said Cowboy Bob.

“Get the fuck outta here, ya dumb chink!” Gordon bellowed.

“Don’t call me a dumb chink,” said the dumb chink.  “My name is Adam.  Adam Lo Ai Kiu.”

“Well get the hell outta here before we shoot the shit outta you,” said Jimby.

“Yeah,” said Jumby.

“You just killed Pat, the wonder boy,” said Adam Lo Ai Kiu.

“I don’t give a shit,” said Jimby.  “We don’t take kindly to Chinaman ‘round these parts.”

“Yeah,” said Jumby.

Adam Lo Ai Kiu karate kicked Jimby in the balls.  Adam Lo Ai Kiu karate kicked Jimby in the head.  Adam Lo Ai Kiu karate kicked Cowboy Bob in the ass.  Adam Lo Ai Kiu karate kicked Cowboy Bob in the ass again.  Adam Lo Ai Kiu karate kicked Gordon in the knee.  Adam Lo Ai Kiu karate kicked Jumby in the throat.  Old Man Young shot Adam Lo Ai Kiu in the chest.

“AAAAARRRRRRRRGHHHHHHAAAAAAAROOOOOOOO!” said Adam Lo Ai Kiu.  All of a sudden blood commenced to soak through his shirt and he laid on the ground, spasming and jittering and twitching and begging for someone to go get Dr. Zaius.

“Dr. Zaius can’t help you, ya dumb chink,” said Cowboy Bob.  “He’s a doctor, not a veterinarian.”  Cowboy Bob stomped on Adam Lo Ai Kiu’s hand.  Adam Lo Ai Kiu went on jittering and writhing in agony.

They set the table back up and found about a billion dollars in Adam Lo Ai Kiu’s wallet and bought a shitload of beer and sat around drinking it while Adam Lo Ai Kiu gurgled in the extremity of his agony and fading consciousness, rolling in the dirty, shitty, dusty floor residue and calling for his mama and gagging as he choked on his own blood.  They all had a good time and got drunk while the Chinaman died on the floor.  Then Sherriff Popooly walked in.

“Sherriff Popooly just walked in,” said Cowboy Bob.

Sherriff Popooly took Adam Lo Ai Kiu’s body and Pat Yourass’s body and took them to the dump, in a pile of dead rats and stray dogs and used bedpans and Bibles.  Then he gave Cowboy Bob, Old Man Young, Gordon, and Jimby and Jumby medals for shooting Chinamen and ridding the town of such odious vermin.

They all stood on a big platform in front of the whole town while  Mayor McCheese and Sherriff Popooly gave them each medals.  Mayor McCheese accidentally poked Cowboy Bob in the tit with his medal.  Cowboy Bob shrieked like a dumb bitch getting a bedpost rammed up her box.

“Don’t make Cowboy Bob shriek like a dumb bitch getting a bedpost rammed up her box!” said Mayor McCheese.  Mayor McCheese kicked Sheriff Popooly in the balls.  Sherriff Popooly fell off the platform and broke his back.  Gordon vomited on him.


Bamboo Shoot Bingo

Once upon a time there was this heinous miserable bitch.  She was actually kind of smart in that she could read and do simple math and pay her bills on time and all that shit, but she didn’t know anything except shit other people told her and had no original ideas of her own.  She worked in an office cubicle for some big generic company with a dumbass name the corporate assholes thought sounded cool–something like Prognex or Protogen or Villasoft or Mechatron or some dumb bullshit that didn’t mean a goddamn thing.

Anyway, the heinous miserable bitch always did everything she was told and followed rules and worked real hard at everything she did and obeyed whoever she worked for no matter how stupid they were or how meaningless her job really was.  Every day, she showed up on time for work with her dumbass imitation leather briefcase and her hair pulled back so tight her eyes bulged out of her pale, sneering face.  All day long she sat there in her desk, dilligently doing absolutely nothing, shuffling papers around and shit so the corporate assholes could make more money for themselves, and she was actually proud of herself, and only compared herself to people who had less impressive jobs and made less money so she could feel better about herself, although she really didn’t.  Somewhere in her subconscious she knew she was just a moderately useful biological machine and held a meaningless midlevel position in a company that provided some obscure unnecessary service and exploited its workers, its customers, committed tax fraud and only served as a massive beurocratic stamping press so one or two corporate assholes at the top could make all kinds of money they were never even going to spend.

Whenever they held meetings at the massive meaningless corporation, the heinous miserable bitch sat and listened to every word and took notes and immediately absorbed whatever meaningless bullshit the guy in charge said.  Usually it was some dumbass meaningless acronym some dumbass corporate schmuck made up and thought it sounded cool.

“From now on,” the corporate asshole in charge would say, “We’re going to use the FOCUS system at work.”  And then he would explain how each letter stood for some dumbass meaningless thing they were supposed to incorporate into their behavior.  The heinous miserable bitch always sat and wrote all this stupid shit down and memorized it and hung it up in her cubicle, even though it didn’t mean a goddamn thing.

Anyway, the dude who worked in the cubicle next to the heinous miserable bitch really drove her up the wall because he didn’t give a shit about anything and he didn’t really do anything at his job except sit there and fuck around and bullshit with other people and everyone liked him and nobody gave him any shit about it.  But what pissed the heinous miserable bitch off the most was that the guy was always happy.

The heinous miserable bitch cared so much about all this trivial pointless shit that didn’t really have anything to do with her and was of no particular importance to anyone, and it was so important for her to follow all these meaningless traditional rules and work hard and save up money, not really because she wanted to, but because she thought she had to, so a guy who didn’t give a shit about anything and wasted all his money and fucked around all the time and was a thousand times happier than she would ever be really pissed her off, so she always bitched at the guy, even though she wasn’t even his boss.  She wasn’t really anyone’s boss, although she thought she was and her boss kind of let her think that because she did half the shit he was supposed to do.

One day the guy who didn’t give a shit about anything was sitting in his cubicle with his feet up on his desk fucking around, reading a magazine or something, and the heinous miserable bitch was real pissed off because her boyfriend finally got sick of her miserable emasculating behavior and moved out of their apartment, plus she was on the rag.  Anyway, the heinous miserable bitch stomped over to the guy who didn’t give a shit about anything and started bitching and screaming about how the guy didn’t do his job and how he was a loser and how he didn’t give a shit about anything, never realizing that the guy who didn’t give a shit about anything didn’t give a shit if he didn’t do his job and didn’t give a shit if he was a loser and didn’t give a shit that he didn’t give a shit about anything.

But he did give a shit about heinous miserable bitches screaming and bitching at him all the time.

So the guy who didn’t give a shit about anything said, “Don’t bitch at me, it’s not my fault you’re bleeding out of your crotch!”  And the heinous miserable bitch went red in the face and started screaming so loud everybody in the office stopped what they were doing, and the heinous  miserable bitch actually slapped the guy who didn’t give a shit about anything and the heinous miserable bitch got fired and she freaked out and went home and smashed a bunch of her stuff and screamed and cried and then she went out and got drunk and met some guy and took him home and fucked him and she got pregnant and had to go on welfare and now she’s a waitress at Denny’s and she’s still miserable and her kid’s a retard and she has a big fat ass and the guy who didn’t give a shit about anything met this really hot girl and quit his meaningless job and moved to San Diego.  There is no god.


The Dom Deluise Shoehorn Collection

One night this chick was walking home from work in the dark and a guy grabbed her and threw her in the back of a van and cut her face all up and took her back to his house and raped her with a bedpost and cut her up some more and she died and he went on fucking her with the bedpost anyway and then he cut her open and ripped out her guts and ate some of her guts and put the rest of her guts in mason jars and cut off her head and rolled it down the stairs into the basement like a bowling ball and put the rest of her body in a meat locker and then he went to bed and woke up the next morning and went back to his job as a kindergarten teacher. There is no god.


Jim Croce Made E-Z

There used to be this dude who thought he was really tough because he liked to get drunk and kick the shit out of people, but the truth was that he was just as big a pussy as anyone else, because the only people he would fight were people who were about half his size and didn’t want to fight anyone anyway, and usually when he fought them they were so drunk they could barely walk. Whenever some other dude showed up who was even close to his size, the dude who thought he was tough would start to kiss his ass, because he knew he’d better make friends out of anyone who could kick his ass, otherwise they would kick his ass because he was an asshole.

One day the dude who thought he was tough was hanging out in this bar and he started to pick a fight with this real little skinny guy, and the real little skinny guy had just got laid and wasn’t really in the mood to fight anybody, but the dude who thought he was tough just kept fucking with the little skinny guy and it turned out the little skinny guy really was tough and had been in all sorts of fights with all kinds of dudes who weren’t afraid of anybody and the little skinny guy jumped on the guy who thought he was tough and punched him about a thousand times before the dude who thought he was tough could even put down his beer. The little skinny guy beat the shit out of the dude who thought he was tough so bad that the dude who thought he was tough actually started to scream right in front of all these people at the bar who knew him, but they didn’t care because he was such an asshole that everyone hoped someday somebody would kick his ass and now that was finally happening and it was really funny.

By the time the little skinny dude was done kicking his ass, the dude who thought he was tough was crying and screaming and bleeding out of every hole in his head and nobody even helped him up off the ground. He got so embarrassed that he left the bar and went home and went up to the roof of his apartment building and jumped off and splattered all over the street because he realized nobody liked him and he was totally worthless and stupid and he couldn’t even go on thinking he was tough because he got his ass kicked by a little skinny stupid guy.

Anyway, the dude who thought he was tough splattered all over the street and some kind of gross green shit splattered everywhere and left this big stain in the alley behind the building and hobos used it as a spot to piss on and everybody was real happy he was dead and nobody came to his funeral, including his own mother, who was a bitch. There is no god.


The Zubaz Prophecy

I took that dog and I put a rope round his neck and tied him to a tree so’s he couldn’t get away, until about late that afternoon he commenced to howl and stir up such a ruckus that I put a couple crabapples in a sock and commenced to beat him with it.  That shut ‘im up for awhile, but then after I went back inside and finished eatin my fishsticks, it occurs to me that he ain’t had no food or water since Thursday.  I go bak out and try to feed ‘im the crabapples, but he’s still unconscious, and even when I bust one of them smellin’ salts under his head and wake ‘im up, he don’t want no crabapples.  So I hike on down to old Mr. Matzko’s house and axe ‘im if I can borrow a can of dog food or somethin, and he tell me he ain’t got no dogfood on account of some wild board kilt his dog about a month ago.  That musta been what the smell was comin from under his porch and all.  Old Mr. Matzko give me a can of anchovies and I hoof it back home, where the dog is sittin there under the tree with his tongue hangin out.  I open up the can of anchovies, but he don’t want nothin to do with them, either, so’s I eat one or two to show him they ain’t all fulla poison or nothin like that.  Well the dog just looks at me like he don’t know what to make of watchin some guy eat anchovies, so’s I start shovin ’em into his mouth and all, and wouldn’t ya know it but the sonuvabitch bit me.  I got mad then, and went and called the state game warden, who says I aughtn’t to call him concerning my pets, only wild animals.  So I tell him I found the dog when it was a stray and don’t that make it wild?  He says no and I should call the pound and stop axin’ him stupid questions.  So I call the pound and the guy at the pound drives out in his dogwagon and loads the dog into the back of it, and then hands me a bill.  I axe him what the hell I gotta pay for, on account of they’re just gonna up and sell the dog to somebody else, and he says he don’t make the rules, so stop breakin his balls about it.  So I go get a empty peanut butter jar and fill it up with quarters and he says he can’t take money with peanut butter all over it, so’s I conked him in the head with the jar and down he goes into the mud, knocked out.  Next thing I know I’m sittin there watchin  TV and eatin the last of the anchovies, and here come the cops and they wanna know why the hell I conked the dogcatcher in the head with a jar fulla quarters.  I say I don’t know, and they drag me on off to jail in the back of the paddywagon.  But as it turns out, they load me into the back of the dogcatcher van by mistake, and the dog still don’t like me very much, and he’s even more mad on account of he’s been locked in the back of the dogcatcher van for about six hours.  He starts bitin’ me all over the place, and by the time the police get me back out, I got chunks of meat ripped outta my ass and one of my fingers is gone.  They take me to the hospital and the doctor wants to know what happened, and as I’m tellin him he gets this peculiar look on his face and he walks off and comes back with another doctor.  The other doctor asks me what happened and I start tellin him, and next thing I know they’re takin’ me to the psych ward and showin’ me pictures of shit askin’ me what I think it is.  I tell ’em I’m tired, and can I go home yet, and they say, Son, you’s either goin’ to jail or to the state hospital, dependin’ on our findings here, and I ask which one’s got better food and lets you watch TV and all and the doctor says probably the state hospital, so right then and there I start makin’ up weird shit whenever they axe me any questions, like for example I tell the guy I use the sink when I take a dump on account of I have four or five goldfish that live in my commode, and that I when I get lonely I dig up graves at the pet cemetery down the street.  He looks at me real strange and next thing I know I’m on the bus to the state hospital.  I get there and everyone is real nice and the food is good and they let me watch TV, but I keep on wonderin’, whatever happened to the dog?