cautionary tale – Page 2

Cartoons That Aren’t For Kids: Bingo The Clown-O and Rabbit

Welcome to Today’s Installment of Cartoons That Aren’t For Kids Featuring the Cartoons RABBIT by Run Wrake followed by BINGO THE CLOWN-O Presented by Alias/Wavefront.

RABBIT is a Cartoon that Mimics a Children’s Learning to Read Story Book Circa the 1950’s which focuses on the Day to Day Life of Little Boy and a Little Girl (assumably Siblings). The Children capture a Rabbit and promptly Cut it in Half length wise where upon doing so They discover a Tiny Being referred to as Idol. Idol was living inside of the Rabbit and upon being Discovered Runs Amok around the Kid’s Home until He stops to Eat some Plum Jam. While Eating the Jam Idol kills a Pesky Wasp that Dies turning into a Large Diamond. From there the Children give into Greed Until They Die due to Their own Selfish Desires. This is a Classic Tale of Be careful What You Wish For Because You Might Just GET IT. Enjoy.

BINGO THE CLOWN-O is Presented by Alias/WaveFront and is Based on a Play titled “Disregard This Play”as Preformed by The Neo-Futurists. The Story centers on a Nameless Man who it turns out is Sitting in the Middle of a Large Circus Ring. Throughout the Story the Man is Confronted by a Adult Clown, a Little Girl Clown, and a Mutant simply known as The Money Man (Who asks the Man Mockingly “You’re a Good little Bingo Aren’t You?!”). The Other Characters all Insist the Man is in Fact Bingo the Clown-O. At first the Man denies being Bingo which only serves to Enrage whoever He is currently Confronted by. The Denial inevitably leads whichever Character He’s talk with to Scream in His Face that HE IS BINGO and thats that. Towards the End of the Cartoon the Man starts to second guess Himself as Doubt sets in, and He begins to wonder if He really is Bingo. Right before the Story Ends The Man accepts it as Fact that He IS indeed Bingo the Clown-O.

This Tale seems to be a Cautionary one about Staying true to Yourself, To Hell with Self Doubt, and You aren’t what Others Say or Think You are. The Bottomline is Be Yourself and Remain Free from Outside Influences. Enjoy.

Thanks for Watching,

Brought To you By Les Sober

FYB Presents Animated Abominations: Sebastian’s VooDoo and Doll Face

Welcome to Another Installment of Animated Abominations Featuring SEBASTIAN’S VOODOO and DOLL FACE!

Sebastian’s Voodoo which was Directed and Animated by Joaquin Baldwin is a Short and Tragic Tale of Self Sacrifice to Serve the Greater Good. Sebastian’s Voodoo takes place in a Voodoo Doll Makers Work Shop where Numerous VooDoo Dolls hang on Miniature Meat Hooks. The Voodoo Dolls Who possess some form of Conciseness are subjected to The Doll Maker’s Sadistic Torture at the Hands of The Dll Maker Who repeatedly Impales the Dolls periodically causing Them a Great Deal of Pain and Torment.

One Voodoo Doll manages to wriggle off its Meat Hook and makes a brief escape. The Doll Maker Returns and The Doll realizes that It must Save It’s Fellow Voodoo Dolls from the Cruel Clutches of The Doll Maker. The Doll then becomes aware of it’s own VooDoo Powers, and uses Itself to Target the Doll Maker. The Doll Maker who had Another Voodoo Doll in His grasp retaliates Using His Voodoo Doll to Attack the Escaped Doll. A Brutal Duel ensues with Each Combatant wielding Their Iron Will Unyieldingly.

Finally The Escaped Doll comes to the grim Conclusion that it can Kill the Malicious Doll Maker by Stabbing Itself in it’s Own Heart which in Turn would Kill it as Well in Some sort of a Bizarre Hybrid Murder-Suicide. The Doll Accepts Its fate and Plunges the Needle deep into its Chest puncturing Its Heart as it the Falls to its Knees and Dies. Meanwhile the Malevolent Doll Maker Freezes and then Collapses to the Floor Dead as Well. The Remaining Voodoo Dolls Free Themselves from Their Hooks, and Surround the Martyred Dolls Deceased Body. Enjoy.

Doll Face is a Haunting Cautionary Tale of the Entrapments of Vanity and The Pursuit of Perfection by Andy Huang. Doll Face is a Mechanical Robotic Mechanism with a Female Human Face. Doll Face becomes Obsessed with the Images of Beauty Personified in a Make Up Model on a Television that is Suspended from the Ceiling. Each Time the Image changes Doll Face immediately replicates the Image though each time the Image Changes the Television Retracts back towards the Ceiling. This forces Doll Face to Strain Harder and Harder each time to See The Next Image. Finally Doll Face is incapable of Seeing the images on the Television, and Doll Face Strains So Intently to See the Television that She inevitably Self Destructs. The Video Ends with Doll Face Laying Broken on the Floor done in by Her Own Desire to Emulate The Endless Images of Perceived Beauty within Society. Enjoy.

Thanks for Watching/Viewing,

Presented By Les Sober

Yet Another Reason Not To Visit Mexico

One day my good friend Danka and I were drinking on the stoop of Danka’s house playing the “Most Fucked Up Story Game”. The game is rudimentary and simplistic. The goal is to tell the most fucked up story of the evening thus becoming the winner.

Dana served a short time in the United States Navy before being discharged for being an Alcoholic who was “Derelict of Duty” or some stupidly phrased bullshit statement. You see Danka had a habit of going binge drinking while on shore leave which resulted in a semi concous Danka being dragged to returning to the ship for check in by his fellow soldiers. Finally Danka out did even himself by missing Check In in favor of chilling at some waitresses’s apartment he was hooking up with in Tijuana, eating Captain Crunch cereal, and watching American cartoons in Spanish. Well that was the final straw that broke the preverbal Camal’s back, and the Navy booted Danka instructing him never to return to any branch of the United States Military ever again.

Before being unceremoniously kicked out of the Navy Danka had spent several months down in Tijuana Mexico were he was temporarily stationed for some fucking Navy related reason. While in Tijuana Danka learned some tactics for day to day safety and survival that weren’t taught in the Navy. It was simply how to navigate daily life in Tijuana without running into trouble with Thieves, Drug Dealers, Pimps, Gangs, Cartels, Muggers, Car Jackers, Con Artists, Drug Addicts, Hookers, Ex Convicts, Militias and Corrupt Cops.

Now with the corrupt Cops it was basic Extortion. If a Tourist per say wandered into the wrong neighborhood the Cops would arrest them, and then drive them directly to an ATM. The Police Officers would then demand a bribe of usually $300 U.S., BUT if you refused to pay they would take you to jail on some bullshit trumped up charge. While it goes without saying that Jail fucking sucks, and is one of the last places anyone would want to find themselves especially in a foreign 3rd World Country. Mexican Jails have a foul reputation for being filthy, over crowded, understaffed, Bribing of Guards, Murders, Rapes, and inhumane living conditions for the most part.

This is what happened to Danka’s buddy named Blackburn. Blackburn was on shore leave and had had a few drinks when he wondered off the main fairway into a shitty neighborhood. While desperately trying to find his way back, which was complicated by his intoxication, Blackburn was picked up by a couple of Corrupt Cops looking for a quick pay day. The Cops drove Blackburn to the ATM and demanded payment ($300 U.S. per Officer times 2 for a total of $600 U.S.), and Blackburn told them too fuck off because he wasn’t giving them a single goddamn cent. So the Cops threw Blackburn into the back of the squad car, but instead of taking him to the nearest shithole jail they drove him to a sleazy Dive Bar on the outskirts of the city that featured Nightly Donkey Shows (if you don’t know what a Donkey Show is Google it) The police shoved Blackburn into the dimly lit backroom of the Bar and tied him to a rickety wooden chair. The Police then proceeded to sell Blackburn to the Bar owner for $775 U.S. and then left quickly.

The Bar owner had one of his cronies take Blackburn out back to a Small Barn located next to the Bar. Once there Blackburn was stripped buck naked and tied to a barn post. The Bar Owner’s henchmen then ground up 3 or 4 bottles of Viagra and mix them with a quarter ounce of Crystal Meth. Once the concoction was full mixed together the Side Kicks laced a 32 ounce Corona with it, and then fed it to a Donkey that was penned up in a cramped stall. About 50 minutes later the Donkey had a raging 18 inch erection and was violently kicking the sides of the pen. One of the Cronies then untied Blackburn from the post, and then tied his hands behind his back while the other crony aggressively lassoed the inscenced Donkey. The 3 men and the doped up Donkey then made their way over to the Bar and entered through a side delivery entrance.

The Bar smelled like hot stale beer and body oder mixed with piss. There were a handful of patrons spread out through out the Bar that was so smoky it was like being trapped in a fucking mist or some shit. The Henchman responsible for Blackburn took him over to a worn out Pummel Horse that was held together with Duct Tape. He then bent Blackburn over the Pummel Horse and bound Blackburn’s wrists and ankles together. Next a shitfaced MC comes on a beat 1972 PA System to announce the Nightly Donkey Show is Starting. After a short pause to allow the Bar Patrons time to freshen their drinks and light a smoke the 2nd Henchman dragged the Donkey over fighting it every step of the way. As the Donkey was being brought over the Bar Owner came over to Blackburn and sprayed him with Female Donkey Pheromones and Menstrual Blood to get the deranged drugged up Donkey’s attention. It worked. It worked extremely well. In an instant the Donkey got a whiff of Blackburn and galloped over to him, and mounted Blackburn placing its front legs on Pummel Horse on either side of Blackburn. As soon as the Donkey penetrated Blackburn it went fuck wild, this Donkey wasn’t playing “Just The Tip” with Blackburn he was slamming shaft balls deep in Blackburn’s battered butthole. It took about 17 minutes before the Donkey finally completed and its semen was seeping out of Blackburn’s broken butthole like a garden hose.

Blackburn was about to be loaded into a car and left to die of his injuries in the Desert to die when the a group of American Military Police busted in the front door of the Bar with a vengeance. Blackburn had to be taken out on a fucking stretcher and Medivaced by Helicopter to a Special Surgical Trauma Hospital in Seattle Washington. Blackburn lived after spending the better part of a year in the Hospital where the Surgeons removed just over 8 feet of his intestines, rebuilt his bowls, reconstructed his rectum, and stitched up his sphincter. Blackburn was discharged from the Navy Under Section 8 Status due to his Donkey Rape induced PTSD. He moved home to Shasta South Dakota and lives in his Mom’s basement on permanent disability watching Anime while drooling on himself while playing with his pecker making guttural sounds.

Needless to say there was no fucking way I could top that Tale of Terror in Tijuana so Danka went home that night quite drunk and the most fucked up story winner.

Thanks For Das READ,

Les Sober

God & Satan Enemies Of A Different Color

Preface: Most people know the story of God casting Satan from Heaven because Satan wanted to take control of Heaven.

It all started when God got bored and created people to entertain him (the original reality t.v.) which pissed off more than a few Angels due to their jealousy of God’s infatuation with his new creations.
Satan was not only an Angel he was the Angel of Light effectively he was God’s right hand man. Satan gathered a group of like minded angels bound together by their hate of humanity and God’s preferential treatment of people. Once Satan had assembled his crew they picked a fight with God by trash talking Humans, a fight that Satan lost.
God banished Satan (along with his traitorous posse) from heaven.
BUT GOD DID NOT BANISH SATAN TO HELL. God decided if Satan hated man more than anything then Satan’s punishment was to walk among man for eternity.
From this point out God and Satan were deemed to be immortal enemies clashing in a constant war of conflict as each tries to win more souls than the other.

The Question: Now I have read the Bible and I like most have a few questions. The first and foremost I question the relationship between God and Satan as far as the traditional belief. As I stated earlier in #5 God and Satan are supposed to be the ultimate foes, yet in the Bible there seems to be a good bit of dialogue between God and Satan. This alone strikes me as odd considering their intense and eternal war of good versus evil after Satan got his ass evicted from his Heavenly home.

The best example in my mind of God and Satan’s rather unorthodox relationship lies in the story of Job. Here is a brief run down summation of the story of Job as told by me (Less Sober).

One day God and Satan (post battle for Heaven) were hanging out together which seems to me like a mighty oxymoron. Why would God and Satan hangout together if their such intense enemies that they actually went to war against one another?

While God and Satan are lallygagging about God starts to brag a good bit about his follower Job and how much Job loves God with undying loyalty. Satan decides to bust God’s balls a bit about this oh so holy and devoted Job guy. Satan makes a side comment to God that its totally obvious the only reason Job gives a shit about God is because Job has a sweet life. Job had a big house, a lot of land, a wife, tons of kids and a productive farm, BUT if Job didn’t have all the perks then he’d abandon God flat out.

Now this conversation seems to follow suit with the relationship described in the Bible between the two Deities, God says something positive and Satan then undermines it with negativity. HOLD ON MY FRIENDS This Is Where It Gets Really Weird.

God decides based on what Satan said to make a bet. YES IT WAS GOD who made the bet WITH SATAN. In some versions of this story some of the faithful claim Satan proposed the bet to God, but sadly no it was all God’s idea.

The bet is this: God allows open hunting season on Job enabling Satan to do whatever horribly wicked shit he could think of to torment Job. If Job remains loyal to God in spite of all the suffering Satan rains down upon him God wins, but if Job succumbs to Satan’s vile endeavorers then simply Satan wins.

Satan then proceeds to run shop on Job. Satan kills all of Jobs crops, kills all of his animals, all of Job’s servants, burns his house down, and kills all of Job’s sons and daughters while they ate together. Job remains standing God.

Round Two Satan struck Job with sores from head to toe. Here Job’s wife does something strange she tells Job to CURSE God and then die. Its the dying part that confuses me because why would she want her husband dead considering Satan killed the rest of the family at this point. Anyway I digress. Job for his credit did not curse God nor did he die, but he did at one point wonder why his God was allowing all this foul shit to happen to him, and at one point even asks God to let him die (assumedly to avoid further torture). Job through it all sticks by God and remains faithful by not sinning in cursing God.

God immediately declares himself the victor to Satan, and then shoots down to Earth to tell Job to shut up and stop asking questions for God works in mysterious ways.

In Summation allow me to state my opinion on the story/subject matter at hand. This is how I see it in all honesty. It appears to me that instead of being eternal enemies God and the Satan had a more personal relationship (as opposed to one ruling Heaven and the other Hell completely independent of one another). To me its more like two best friends who started a business together and the business started to flourish making all involved very happy. Then one friend makes an executive decision about staffing without consulting his friend and partner first. This leads to resentment, tension, stress and anxiety plaguing the friendship driving the two friends apart. Finally one of the friends has had enough and attempts a hostile takeover of the company only to fail, and thus the partnership dissolves spectacularly along with the friendship over an argument on how the company should be run. As the years pass the two friends begin to reconnect yet both are still pissed about their falling out as each blames the other for their failed friendship. Though God and Satan don’t ever reconcile they form a new love-hate relationship because though they had a shitty falling out their friendship out weighs the one vicious fight over difference of opinion.

“If Your Donald Trump’s Assistant Why Do You Drive A Ford Escort?” By Spacedog In His Delightfully Demented Debut

I guess some people just can’t help themselves. Some people just spurt all kinds of lies out of their mouths. I am guilty as well, heck I was caught in a tiny little lie tonight. Some people can lie about much more though. Some lies people tell are funny. Others are mean and there are even a few people that tell the lie even more then they tell the truth.
I once met a rather attractive man. He was from somewhere out on Long Island, I’m not exactly sure where at though. He was 25. So I met him in the city and he wanted to take me out to dinner. OK, why not I thought? He told me he was Donald Trump’s personal assistant. I was young. I was vain. I was thinking cha-ching. I was _________ (fill in your favorite negative word to describe me).
So he comes to Jersey to pick me up. He was driving a Ford Escort. A small little red flag went off in my head. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just cheap with his cars or maybe the beamer was in the shop.
So we go out to eat. We start driving down the road towards nothing in particular and are just talking. He pulls into the mall. I hate the goddamn mall. So I tell him and we leave the mall. It is at this moment that he tells me how much he likes Wendy’s and asks me where there is one. Not my idea of a “date” (I suppose this was a date?) I thought at least Fridays. So we end up at Wendy’s.
He buys me whatever I wanted but then he gets two things from the dollar menu and that was it. Red flag number two I thought. Hmmmmm maybe he could be anorexic? The other half of me was still trying to defend him.
So then we get to the movies. He wants to see nothing in particular and whenever I suggest a movie, he claims he already saw it and it was lame. So we rent a movie. Red flag number 3? Oh he must be a strong man with strong opinions.
So we go and watch the movie. I go in the door, he comes in the window. We watch. He keeps complimenting me. He wants something. What does he want? Oh wait, me? But the little flags go up and my pants don’t. So he leaves after that.
About two weeks later, I go back to New York. I’m having a pretty good time, meeting people, dancing (yes I once danced), and I see someone cute. So we start talking and I tell him I’m dating someone but it isn’t really that serious. I like to talk too much so I describe the guy. He gets a distraught look on his face.”Does he work for Donald Trump?”, cute boy asks me. “Yeah he told me that.” I reply.
Turns out he really was 35 years old, worked at the Dunkin Donuts, lived with the parents and not in the penthouse, was HIV positive, had lied to cute boy, and also infected him.
All shreds of decency for this man completely died. I wanted to throw up, I wanted to scream, I wanted to key this man’s car or worse. Then I saw cute boy and I hugged him. He didn’t deserve all this. I didn’t. No one else did.

Shady man had a decent personality and looked good but everything about him was a lie. His whole being was a lie. The few positives about him were bludgeoned. Thankfully shady man was an exception to the rule.
People still can’t help but lie. The age lie is way too common. The ages of 18,21, 29, and 39 still sends off bells and whistles in my head. 18 because I used to say that when I was 14 or 15, the rest because people like to hold on to their 20s or 30s like there is going to be some catatonic occurrence if they were actually 30 or 40.
I am 30 and damn proud. I gave the whole lets pick a random number in the 20s and be that a thought, but it quickly died there. I like to keep my lies simple. Things like: “I have to go my sister just put our rabbit in the microwave or AAAAAAHHHH I just let a squirrel in the house or my dad is attacking my mom with a meat cleaver.” Those work much better for me.
All I can really say to the true liars is this. Watch out cuz spacedog is gonna go into gay commando mode when he finds out. Anyone who’s gone out with me for drinks in Pennsy knows about this mode. Beware.

-spacedog-

f-yourblog Readers Lend Me Your Eyes

First I would like to personally thank all the readers for the kind comments, compliments, enthusiasm and support, I truly do appreciate it. I am just sorry that due to a recent and RESOLVED technical issue the current comment section were lost.

While there is a handful of readers who find the time and attention put into each and every article, and I am also fully aware that the quite timely posting of new articles can irritate some readers as well. So I will do my best to help explain my slightly lengthy writing process and give the official f-yourblog mission statement.

f-yourblog’s Mission Statement is as follows:

I will put 100% into each and every article or I simply won’t post it.

I will NEVER produce content for contents sake.

I fully believe my readers are much smarter then the average individual and because of this I will NEVER force feed my readers meaningless,bland,boring,generic,mindless or vacantly fickle fluff.

I will be adding Pictures as well as Videos, BUT I must inform you they will only be posted as an intricate part of the article to add a new aesthetic dimension. You will never see pictures of celebrities, what I ate for lunch or some bullshit top 10 list (example-Top 10 crazy Hollyweird couples of 2000 whatever or top 12 bad haircuts of famous people etc.) Nor will you see mundane videos such as a cat trying to get into a tissue box or some poor schlub getting hit in the balls/getting fucked up doing some asinine stunt. Shit like that is why I abandoned FaceBook several years ago at this point. I have no plans to return to Facebook UNLESS I need too to help promote this site which I realize will more than likely have to be done.

If any reader has a question, inquiry or suggestions and are wondering how to reach me outside the perimeters of this Weblog please refer to the article “Smoke signals don’t cut it anymore” and thanks again for the continued interest.

The Writing Process Explained:

I send 120 to 144 hours thinking about topics and content of the upcoming article.
After I have selected a topic (in all honesty I have a note book with well over 100 future topics) I spend the next 72 to 96 hours mulling the article over in my mind formulating a outline of sorts.
I then I actually write the article which takes around 24 to 36 hours.
I then subject the new article to an insanely intense and rigorous editing process (I have edited a article so seriously that by the time I was done writing it it was in fact an entirely different article) The editing process alone can take 24-48 hours.
After all that if I feel the article is up to f-yourblog’s rather high standards then and ONLY then will I post the article.

NEW DEVELOPMENT here at f-yourblog:

For the 1st and ONLY time I will be bringing in a contributing writer known only as Spacedog. I am doing this for 3 very simple reasons which are the following.

The first being I have been good friends with Spacedog for more years then I can accurately calculate though its been since High School, and trust me that was several centuries ago.

Second Spacedog and I have had multitudes of late night intoxicated conversations that were so entertaining that first thing when I woke up the next day, we also have been mulling over the idea of starting a podcast, but I digress for now.

The 3rd and final reason is this Self Preservation allow me to explain further. I am not ignorant to the fact especially as the weblog grows,develops and evolves it will be increasingly hard for just one person (and that person being me) can logically and realistically handle alone. I learned this from the cautionary tale of former ECW (Extreme Championship Wrestling) owner the legendary Paul Hayman. Paul tried to solely remain running his organization as it grew and thusly was responsible for every aspect of his company. Paul booked shows and talent, produced their weekly television show, all promotion of ECW and was in charge of merchandising, accounting, venues and much, much more. While this endeavor was admirable it was futile as Paul became increasing over whelmed (not once asking for help) and the pressure got to be to much ( it got to the point Paul’s health was declining significantly, remember kids STRESS DOES KILL.) and he ended up having to sell the company or close up shop once and for all. To everyones surprise, mine included, Paul sold ECW to the WWE who then ran the company into the ground eventually dismantling ECW all together.

Obviously I don’t want to end up in the same Paul Hayman Boat, BUT at the same time I don’t want a whole group of people trying to influence f-yourblog and generally mucking things up as well as getting in the way. So the only sensible solution was to take on a collaborating partner that way f-yourblog can continue to produce superior content without the aggravation or detriment. I would hate to see f-yourblog close its doors for good and am trying to keep it actively relevant and myself as sane as possible along the way. Spacedog has already sent me a giant gaggle of articles which I will reading and reviewing for content/writing standards that match those here at f-yourblog, and then periodically post them in the upcoming weeks.

Ladies and Gentlemen That is All (for now)

Sincerely,

Less Sober Head Writer and Administrator of f-yourblog.com

LSDeity

I don’t believe anyone knew his actual name but as kids we called him Smiley Jesus. You would only see him bare foot leisurely wondering through my and surrounding neighborhoods in summer. Besides the bare feet he also preferred to be shirtless wearing a red pair of 1970 high school gym class shorts like a personal uniform. Obviously looking like the traditional white version of christianity’s Jesus along with his penchant for constantly smiling earned him the nickname Smiley Jesus.

I found out from my father years down times long twisting road a basic backstory biography about Smily Jesus. First off he didn’t find ANY OF THIS OUT for Smiley Jesus NEVER spoke a single word as far as any of us knew he just paced around smiling and not bothering anyone at all.

My father had found out from some of our neighbors that Smiley Jesus occasionally mowed various peoples lawn for cheap. My father admitted he had hired Smiley Jesus to cut our lawn BUT said it was by far the strangest social interaction of his life. My father went on to explain that Smiley Jesus only spoke a sentence or two max and was unable to answer basic questions pertaining to cutting lawns he would just stare vacantly not saying a single thing. Also in spite of the reference no one told my father Smiley Jesus’s real name ,and he never found it out on his own. Some how the two of them managed to do business so to speak a few times over the summers.

Now a friend of our next door neighbor was in fact also a dear friend of Smiley Jesus’s family and knew what his story actually in fact was. Again his actual name was not mentioned as he was referred to during the conversation as he and the story’s bottom line was this. Smiley Jesus was a strait A student (that was a member of even fucking club and School events) a well rounded over achiever who upon graduating high school was accepted to Princeton University back in the late 60’s. Smiley Jesus excelled in chemistry (on a rocket scientist level) and had access to a full laboratory ,and he for some unknown reason started manufacturing LSD. That was until one batch he made was systematically fucked up, or in plain english a “bad batch”. Apparently Smiley Jesus didn’t know about or decided not to use a volunteer genie pig and tested his product personally. Needless to say he totally fried his fucking brain and destroyed any possible future he had.

I’m ending the story there with no wise life lesson or tragic hero sob story, or cautionary tale shit. The guy made a bad life decision and fucked over his life.

The PCP Party and The Pizza Delivery Prank

For a period time when I was 21 I was living at my moms house spending my free time sitting on my mom’s backyard porch drinking beer with friends. One evening it was myself and three friends Drivel, Cult and Ms. Razor. In addition to a 30 pack of Red Dog they had also brought a couple of dime bags of PCP which we preceded to roll up and smoke both bags. For our millennial readers PCP was a street drug that had its 15 minutes of fame hay day in the 1970s. The Irony is PCP is a veterinary drug (can you say foreshadowing? Special K.) that was/is a horse tranquilizer ,but in humans it can cause violent, unpredictable and aggressive behavior lets just say PCP was the Bath Salts of the 70’s.

Well the night finally ended as they always do with Ms. Razor, Drivel and Cult stumbling off into the night to raise more hell by morning. I was sitting in the kitchen after turning off every single light in the house off when their was a knocking at the front door. I stood up, grabbed a 12″ butchers knife and went to answer the door. I flipped the porch light on and whipped open the door to find some teenage pizza delivery guy holding a pizza of course. When I opened the door the delivery guy jumped back a few feet and was looking as nervous as a chihuahua in a thunderstorm. I glared at him with such intensity I’m sure that between the look and large butcher’s knife he thought he was going to end up dead, devoured and have his skin worn as a smoking jacket. I demanded to know what the fuck he wanted and he replied someone ordered the pizza so obviously he’s delivering it. I informed the delivery guy that I was the only person here and I didn’t order any goddamn pizza. He replied in a shaky voice that he was wondering what the knife was for ,apologized and high tailed it the hell out of there.

Interesting prolog:

I went to the pizza place where the delivery guy worked to apologize ,but he didn’t want to come up front to get it stilling being a tad bit frazzled.
I found out over a decade later that this rancid twat of an ex girlfriend who intellectually reverted to 12 years old and decided to play the call in a fake pizza order gag.