Arthur Van Den Blastmeat
Time flows in your eyes and out your butt hole. It stains your brain with skidmark memories. It launches out your dik hole. And knocks down a lamp. When the lights are out it slows down to a misty dream of brunettes on bear skin rugs.
Arthur Van Den Blastmeat had a fourteen foot bear skin rug. It drove the ladies crazy. Read more »
Do you know someone dumb that you want to impress? No? Is someone trying to impress you? Yes? You may be dumb. Do you smash your forehead into the wall more than twelve times a day? You are dumb. If you can’t read kdjsfods dfjodefuf ds fds fjosf d fdsodsjer sdjfjl. You are dumb. Read more »
I used to work in the call center for Plumber Bob Joe Bob. The most common calls were for kitchen drains and clogged shatholes. Sometimes we’d hire a wino with a plunger if there weren’t enough available plumbers. People think plumbers are lady killers. The truth is that only half of plumbers world-wide get laid more than twice a week. This could be why you pay out the nose for a plumber to come to your house after three AM. Right when the hooker fees are halved. Read more »
Old Man Flatdick caught his pud in a hamburger press when he was twenty three years old. Today he stapled his dick to a boat. He never had much luck with that crappy wang. He’s supposed to get married to Little Miss Bowling Ball Tits.
Little Miss Bowling Ball Tits walked down the steps to her ninja cave. She stripped down to a pair of stockings and a g-string. The music faded up as she began her Vitalitilazizzizlecize. Old Man Flatdick walked in. He ripped his pants off and rolled out his dick on the dining room table. He held the camera up and shot a photo. Read more »
“Apparently someone on this plane shit on the com unit and now we can’t communicate with the tower. Now we can’t fuckin land.” Beasly whispers.
Mirna Lou whispers back. “Well if this things going down, I wanna die fukkin.”
Beasly whips out his dick and stuffs it in her butt.
“Not the fukin cornhole, Sparky.”
“My name’s not Sparky!!!” He looks at the camera. “My names Beasly Felchbeagle. Special Forces.” He shoots a crossbow into the cieling. An arrow with a rope attaches to the roof. He presses a button on his waist. His dick starts vibrating. “Shit.” He presses another button. He is whisked up to the cieling. His dick makes a cork sound when it pulls out. Read more »
Julius worked part time at a gas station. He took people’s credit cards and pushed them in and pulled them out of the gas pumps. Fill regular. Ten dollars of premium. He hated the job.
Sometimes there were nice people but mostly it was just a bunch of working stiffs. He could tell the nine to fivers because they always said the same thing. The women were the meanest. Complain, complain, complain. Why is the gas so expensive? Like he was in charge of gas prices around the country. Get a bike if you can’t afford to drive.
When he started the job there was a young lady that flirted with him. She didn’t come by anymore. Today Julius was almost done pumping when a huge limousine pulled in. The driver passed a credit card. Julius checked the name. Elvis Lee. He started the gas pumping and pressed his face into the tinted windows. Two large dudes in suits were drinking beers and six little people were bouncing around on the seats. Read more »
Artie had gas once again. It had been five years since he last had gas but it was back with a serious attitude now. Now his gas was trying to kill him and anyone he got close to. His hamster was dead, his grandma was in the hospital, the neighbors sued him and then moved out.
Artie went to the doctor. The doctor prescribed some bean-o and then ran out of the room. Artie ripped another fart and the nurse imploded. How would he ever find a girl to share his pathetic life with? He rode his scooter to the brothel, but they would not let him near the place. Then he rode into the mountains and boned some deer. Read more »
There once was a piece of cat terd named Jarvis. Jarvis was long and coiled with a goatee of mouse fur. He was drinking beers under a piece of bark with a couple other terds when Ralph came through the door. Ralph was a mean bully of a terd. He came out of a buffalo. Ralph pulled out a bottle of Thunderbird bum juice and started pounding it.
“Jarvis you greasy fuck, why you drinking that piss?”
“This is expensive beer,” said Jarvis.
“Lemme try.” Ralph pulled the brew away from Jarvis and polished it off. He farted and then left.
“What a fucking assplow,” said Jarvis to the other turds. Read more »
Dr. Plow was more than happy to join the expedition. He had been the point man on several forays into the unknown, so it was natural that they asked him. But the price they were willing to pay made him very uncomfortable. He’d never seen such a figure so large. That’s why he was at Dr. Springbarf’s house having a drink.
“Can you repeat that number again,” said Dr. Springbarf.
“You heard me right,” said Dr. Plow. “And they cover all expenses.”
“Unbelieveable. Do they need anyone else?”
“Why? You thinking of getting into the exploration racket?”
“For that kind of money I’ll do anything.”
“Would you cornhole Hairy Maude?”
“Would you cornhole Greasepit Wanda?”
“Who says I haven’t.”
“You serious? You back-doored a patient?”
“No way. Not with this dick. I would back-door her with Rasputin’s pud, maybe.” Read more »
“Now that I’m out of rehab it’s time to get laid,” said Harv. Harvey had been in a clinic for two weeks for his addiction to hookers and strip clubs.
“You better not,” said Madge, his mom, while they drove home in her Buick. “Your father, rest his soul, and I paid good money to get you into rehab, and you want to go out and spear some strumpet. Harvey, I can’t believe you.”
“I was just joking Mom. What I really need is a good strong cup of coffee. The splosh they serve in there must come from the waste treatment plant. I think the chef pisses in the muesli so he doesn’t have to walk to the bathroom.”
“Harvey, I don’t want to hear any of this. We’re gonna get you home, get you a nice bowl of soup and you can read a book and think about your disease.”
“It’s not a disease Mom. It’s an addiction. A disease is bad for one’s health. Pumpin hookers is good for one’s health. Read more »