Hip Joint Went Haywire

“You can take that scurvy dick and your sallow ass cheeks and skittle the fuck back into your shitty car and back to your shitty planet and drink all the beer you want. But on this planet we don’t do that shit in our buddies house.” I was pissed. Charlestone Hughlorf had taken my grandma out on a date earlier that evening. I had driven them to the jacuzzee parlor. When I went back to pick them up there were five police cars outside. I walked in and flashed my badge. What I saw would put anyone back on abstinence. This horndog had plowed the place to shreds. There were pecker holes smashed in everywhere. Supposedly his hip joint went haywire but I still think he’s on speedballs. He and my grandma were sitting in the back of the police car. I went up to the commanding officer and introduced myself. He released the prisoners to me and I drove them back home. Charlestone picked up his things and ran into the backyard and started fucking the garden. Then he grabbed our costco bagel pack and plowed his wang through all three rows. They were inedible now. By the time I finally got him back into the car, the entire garden was gored and he even aerated the new lawn, which, I guess, was a good thing.

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