What Ye Plow, Ye Shall Beef

“Wait one chicken fukin second fukram, what is your sock doing in my glovebox?” said Wilson.
“I was using it to huff the tire inflator,” said Sir Jenkinz.
“Oh. Well throw it away when you are done. If my girlfriend finds that she’ll think I’m back on the huff again and she’ll throw away all the hornet killer.”
“Sorry Wilson, I was pretty fuked up when I got back. Let me look around to see if I left anything else.”
Sir Jenkinz reached under the drivers seat and pulled out a magazine. He popped the trunk and picked up his four foot bong.
“Whoah, some night you had,” said Wilson, “Who was the lucky lady?”
“Can you say eight hookers? I got paid yesterday.”
“Apparently. What, you drive down to the river and have a picnic and then a little plowman’s desert?”
“Very funny. Actually I rented one of those teepees on the Indian reservation.”
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” said Wilson, “maybe I’ll have to get that number from you.”
“Its a piece of cake, just go to the website. There’s all kinds. I ordered the Chief Weaseldick special. Thats six hookers, twenty bottles of wine, a half case of fine blunts, and a fukload of strawberries and cherries and whipped cream.”
“I thought you had eight hookers?”
“Yeah. I warmed up with one one the way. Thats where the dent in the roof came from.”
“Oh,” said Wilson, “don’t worry about that, I’ll have Levi pull it out.”
“I figured you would. When I get my van back, I’ll let you take it out and hump your girlfriend on the roof. There’s a meteor shower coming up next month. Hopefully it will be ready.”
“I told you to go to Golden Joe’s. My transmission was totally fuked up and they rebuilt it for less than you probably spent last night.”
“Oh I doubt that. I got an Entertainment Book from my cousin for Christmas. Probably one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. They got coupons for everything.”
“Yeah we always talk about getting one, but not for the hookers. I don’t play that anymore. But I’m seriously considering getting my dick shrunk.”
“Are you talking about getting your dick shrunk again? What does your girlfriend think about this?”
“She’s into it. I figure if I can take it down to two inches stiff then I can save a bundle on underwear and condoms.”
“Really. How much? I mean annualy?”
“At least four bucks a year. Sure that doesn’t sound like a ton, but that shit adds up. If you count all the seconds saved in inconvenience. No more wearing goggles when we make love, no more stepping on it when I go piss at night, no more soggy cieling.”
“Well you do what you have to do, but I would never let anyone near my dong with a sharp object.”
“Oh, they do it with radio waves now. Actually its a very simple process. You can get the home kit on the internet. Its got a DVD and everything. You can see the demo online. Anyway, I gotta finish waxing, I’m taking Marla out tonight.”
“Fresh. If you want that number to the teepees, let me know.”
“Tits bro, I will.”
“See ya.” Wilson turned on the water and sprayed down the car. He applied a fine coat of turtle spunk and polished it with the orbital polish master. Marla walked out of the house.
“Was that Sir Jenkinz?” said Marla.
“Yeah, he just came by to get a screwdriver.”
“Did you let him borrow our car again?”
“No. Baby I’ve got to finish this so that I can take a shower.”
“You did. You let that ratscratcher borrow it. Did he fuk it up?”
“The car is fine. He needed it to take his great aunt to the hospital.”
“Sure. If you believe that tripe than I’ve got a swamp for you to drain in Cleveland.”
“Baby, I’m almost done. I’ll be inside in a couple of minutes.”
“Alright. I’m gonna get ready then.”
“Wait for me to shower, though.”
“Sorry, you lost that privilege, remember,” said Marla. She walked back into the house and turned on the shower. The bathroom steamed up and smelled like rotting farts. Marla closed the door and poured some cold cranberry juice. She tuned the stereo to her favorite station. Radio Poongristle, an eclectic mix queefs and beats. She stripped down to her underwear and laid back on her exercise ball. The song ended and the VJ announced the time.
“Its six forty seven, time for intervals,” said the VJ, “and a one and queef and a two and queef and a one and queef and a three and queef. Now keep going while I switch the record.”
Marla queefed for a bit and then got tired of it. She went into the bathroom and pissed and then got into the shower.
Wilson turned off his buffer and dropped a little water on the hood. It looked good, just like in the infomercials. The water beaded up and slid right off. In fact he could barely see where Sir Jenkinz had dented the roof the night before. Wilson drove the car back into the garage and popped the hood. He opened the radiator and snaked his four foot dick down into the inner workings. At first the car started caughing but then the motor slowly started to purr. Wilson jammed his dick further down and now it was half way to the engine block. He plunged it back and forth and then pulled it out. It was covered with soot and grease but the car was running much better now. He walked out to the curb and spun around in a circle. The grease flung onto the sidewalk and into the street.
Mrs. Knudsoftie slid open her front window and yelled at Wilson.
“Looks like you could use a little cleaning up. Why don’t you come inside and I’ll scrub that appendage till it barks for mercy?” she said.
“No thanks. I’ve got to get ready for my date.”
“Well if you ever get bored, you know where to find me.”
“We both know that will never happen Mrs. Knudsoftie,” said Wilson, “did you still need that crescent wrench?”
“Yeah, I’m still having trouble with the hamster cage. Everytime I fix it, Carlton chews through the wiring again.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Wilson walked into the house and jumped into the shower. Marla was washing the conditioner out of her hair.
“Honey, the drain is stuck again.”

Before the Clown Stops Queefing

Billy Joe Pooloafer was probably the last guy I expected to see climbing off my wife. Our breakup had started some five years ago. I remember the exact moment, I was headed out of town on a business trip. If you’ve ever had people come to your door to sell you magazines, thats called a mag crew. I ran one of those. I would recruit homeless people, kids who had run away, people with no hope left, anyone who couldn’t get a normal job. I’d drive them to different towns in a huge old school bus that was supplied by my boss. I won’t tell you his name, only that he and half his entourage had been driven out of the country over ten years ago. Currrently he lives in Uruguay on a giant plantation. Anyway, I was leaving to take the mag crew out the next morning so that night I made my wife a nice dinner of breaded chicken and a double size bottle of wine. We drank and mowed through the chicken and then started frolicking on the stove. We turned the burner to low and we were kissing and then I ripped a fart accidentally. She stopped kissing me and started gagging. Earlier that day I had eaten a ton of wasabi peas and a bunch of unripe nectarines. She ran over to the sliding door and opened it to breathe fresh air. When she was done I was laying on the couch with my underwear off. She looked at me with disgust and told me to take a shower and not to forget to shove the soap up my ass. I went to my computer instead and whacked it to some downloaded porno.
We didn’t speak to each other for the rest on the night. In the morning when I was ready to leave she finally said something. “I may or may not be here when you get back.” Well that was some quick thinking I told her and I left.
That night I tried to call her from the road and just got a busy signal. I took it as a sign that we were not on speaking terms so I hit the bar with some of my crew and we kept drinking and drinking. I heard later that I passed out under the pool table. My workers had carried me back to the bus on their shoulders and hosed the puke off my clothes.
The next morning I tried to call again and she answered.
“Jacob, its fuking six thirty in the morning,” she said.
“Baby, first thing, I wanted to apologize for ripping that fart.”
“No you’re not, you were laughing.”
“I wasn’t laughing. I was shaking in embarrassment. Anyway, it’s past. I can’t wait to get back home and see you. You’ll still be there right?”
“Yeah. I’ll be here. We’re gonna have some talking to do though.”
“I know. I’m gonna try and change, its just hanging around with all these losers all day effects me.”
“I’ll see you when you get home. I’m gonna get back to sleep.”
“OK. Bye Snookums.” I hung up the phone and took a swig of menudo smoothee. We had a real good pull that day. A couple people from the crew never returned though. We headed to the next town the following morning.
On our fifth night I took everyone out to dinner at Fuckys Beer & Tits. I had the pelted vartsteak and a huge mug of Fire Piss. One of the crew, Helga, started playing footsies with me. I kept pushing her foot away until she took her shoes off and rubbed my inner thigh. Well I got a little excited an pulled out my pud. She pulled off her stocking and started caressing my wang. I kept drinking and eating and then I busted a nut covering the entire underside of the table. I stuffed the general back in and ran to the bathroom. I heard screaming and clanging iron back in the dining room and when I came out there were three dudes in chain mail armor with swords and crossbows fighting back a huge chlorine smelling white slime. I put a hundred on the cash register and we took off back to the KOA.
The next morning we headed back home. I dropped the winos off with their earnings at the liquor distributors. The junkies got out at the alley behind Safeway. And then Helga and I stopped by the river for some brisk skinny dipping. We replayed the previous night but this time I only felt guilty. I stopped early and told her that it wasn’t right. She got pissed and pulled out a bike chain and started swinging it at me. I grabbed it and ripped it away from her. Her hands were bleeding so I covered them with petroleum jelly and wrapped them with galvanized fencing. She apologized and I dropped her off in front of her uncle’s.
I drove back home rehearsing what I was gonna say to my wife. I didn’t want to apologize anymore. What I wanted to do came straight from that movie with Mikhail Douglas where he opens the door and the girl throws herself at him and he tears her clothes off and she tears his clothes off and they cornhole till the cows come home. It didn’t happen quite like that. When I broke the door down with my dong she was there alright, but she was already partially nude waiting for me. Or so I thought. I ran over and jumped on her. But while I was in mid air a band of gypsies emerged from behind the door and grabbed me and stapled me to the ceiling. My wife was stapled to the floor with a kiwi fruit in her mouth and a celery stick out her ass. The leader of the gypsys pulled his mask off and he had three ears.
“This is your lucky day, Mr. Krevoks. Your wife and I were just talking about you. Now if you’d kindly give us the combination to her chastity belt we’ll be going.”
“Forty seven.”

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