Register a SA Forums Account here!
JOINING THE SA FORUMS WILL REMOVE THIS BIG AD, THE ANNOYING UNDERLINED ADS, AND STUPID INTERSTITIAL ADS!!!

You can: log in, read the tech support FAQ, or request your lost password. This dumb message (and those ads) will appear on every screen until you register! Get rid of this crap by registering your own SA Forums Account and joining roughly 150,000 Goons, for the one-time price of $9.95! We charge money because it costs us money per month for bills, and since we don't believe in showing ads to our users, we try to make the money back through forum registrations.
 
  • Locked thread
Cobweb Heart
Mar 31, 2010

I need you to wear this. I need you to wear this all the time. It's office policy.
It's 2006, but this is definitely in the distant future. This covers one golden day I had in the summer following President Limbaugh's impeachment. I'd like to know if anyone thinks this is funny or good besides me. Parentheses indicate places I would like to put footnotes, because I am Terry Pratchett, and I wasn't sure what to do with the formatting because the forum steals my indents, sorry. Open to suggestions! Wistful Memories...

tw slurs, stupid poo poo

quote:

Back in Summer 2006 I lived with my fat gently caress of a suitemate Dave in a four-floor apartment complex on top of a gas station.
"I thought you were still with that one girl. The anime." Dave yelled from his room, wheezing.
"When the clothes come off, she looks just like every other anime babe." I sighed and stared out the window visible over our living room table. Roadkill lined the streets below. I saw a couple more dogs throw themselves into the road to be pulverized. Stupid loving animals.
"Woah, that's not really cool," said my suitemate. "I know a few animes. Like, I get where you're coming from, but it's pretty hosed to say that, isn't it? They can't help what they look like." I heard him pop something crinkly open, shuffle out.
"You're one to get offended, you fuckin' swidge. You would never gently caress one."
"Yeah, you're right. I've got better options, like your mom. Want a beer?" I heard the fridge make a fridge opening noise. My suitemate's great at loving pushing my buttons and getting me pissed off, which he did often and was doing now. I replied without turning my head, still staring at the river of cars on their brunchtime commute. "My mom's a fat sack of meth poo poo, like the poo poo you take on meth. Dude, gently caress my mom."
"I already did." I heard him waddle across the laminate and flop onto our couch. (The couch was found in one of the artificial forests by my old apartment. I was smoking pot with some bitch and saw it, cushionless and abandoned, and got her to help me move it back to my place. I was all, score! 'cause my back is too bad to pull that off on my own. A little after she wheeled it into the elevator up, I caught up with her, panting, and bought her a snack from the gas station in thanks.)

"I wish my mom would get driven over by a firetruck," I pondered out loud over the suddenly on TV. "Wait, where's my beer, human being?"
"You never asked for one. Man, this thing took like five seconds to tell I was on the couch. Wish we could win a newer one."
We jointly won that TV in our complex's gas station's consumer sweepstakes. (Consumer sweepstakes are mini-lotteries frequently held by business to get rid of poo poo unsalable stock or just to remind people that they exist.) Residents weren't supposed to enter to prevent them from, like, loving with the register to rig the contest. So we walked in with shaved faces and registered as a married couple from out of town, snuck downstairs the night after and hacked the clerk's computer to rig the contest. We had to drive out to the quarry in Dave's teal shitshack on wheels, a '95 Grand Am, just to pick it up, then lay low and hole up in our suite and not let Habib see us for a week until our facial hair grew back and all told if we had had jobs the entire thing would've taken up more of our time value than the TV was worth.

"Hey, come check out these fuckin' dogs."

"Hey, come check out... THIS, fucker!" Dave's voice commanded in a reedy mockery of my own. I smacked at a cold slash of sweat running down my graphic tee in annoyance. I realized I hadn't bothered to pay attention to what he was doing beyond the noises he was making. I turned, rolling my eyes, and almost poked one out on a FAT six-inch joint. He had been rolling it while we were talking, and I hadn't noticed because of my defective nose. Dave had put it in the mouth of one of those claw grabber toys with tiger heads that we keep lying around to transfer items without lifting our bodies. He was offering it to me from the couch. Yeah, this is why I kept Dave around. He was never loving dry, he packed everything fat as gently caress, and he was generous with his dank and drank. He hadn't even lit it.

"Thanks for greens, bro," I smiled. I snapped my fingers while pointing, a gesture that activated the subcutaneous smartpads in my fingers and told them to light up. My index finger's fuel nail started unraveling into the little Bic flame hovering just in front of where I pointed. I had these babies on every finger so I could smoke an entire party and its children out of house and home and still have a sick black polish look going on. I sparked that poo poo and plucked it thankfully from the tiger's mouth. Tiger passing, we called it. "Look out, bro! Tiger pass!" We both laughed. I took a fat loving rip and held it, held it, held it, then took another, then another smaller one into my tracheotomy pouch that my doc specifically forbade me from using as a backup lung for drugs. gently caress him. "Get loving faded with the loving tiger," I spat out, and managed to pick up the corresponding table tiger and pass the burning tube of herb back to my guy before seeing stars and puking up a cloud whiter and thicker than the gelatinous Olympic pools of cum I had to stir every day back when I worked at the sperm bank. I almost made awkward eye contact with Dave and looked out the window, waiting for the THC to agonize my withered receptors. "Eye of the tiger," I whispered faintly. Staring at the wrecked puddles of ex-dog dotting the road, I hacked and spat up a ball of stinking pus before flicking my throat-box and forcing my pseudolarynx to release its now-stale payload. This triple hit loving decked me. I was thrice spaced in a yoctosecond.

The window floated into the air and onto the ceiling as my body leaned back mindlessly in its chair, unbalancing it and making me fall over because my dumb rear end doesn't know how heavy and broken it is without my brain constantly reminding it. I slammed into the floor and shook it. Dave spat out his hit, coughing into his moronic bray. "You fell on your rear end, shithead!" I couldn't hear him, or I would've jumped up and ruined his poo poo with a cruel uppercut. Instead I rolled over, my nose hole suddenly picking up all the hideous floor odors it couldn't before like a microscope zooming in on a suddenly visible field of revolting bacteria. My head, still whiplashed from the fall, jerked up vomitously and I jerked up too, snatching the joint in a single quick move that impressed even me. Dave stopped laughing. He hadn't seen me get up that swiftly in years. I wiped my chin, did some quick thinking and snapped out a good one: "And YOU felt up your rear end, dipstick." I smirked quietly and took another couple of lungbusters, this time not even flinching. Holy poo poo! It's rare for me to kick so much rear end in less than one minute. I'm on cloud nine. I mean cloud four twenty, lmao. I handed the weed back to him - it was already halfway gone. "And YOU... I didn't even need to tiger it, you see that?"

Dave just grinned like a tard. He wouldn't accept the ownage I had placed upon him. Typical Dave. He was about to say something, so I snapped out of whatever the gently caress I was thinking about and listened, in a way that didn't look like I gave a poo poo.
"Whatever, fag lunch. Hey, your old job called. They said they needed you back. They've never had a guy who cared about his work more than you."
"What, which one?! Toni said tha- oh." Dave was cackling his rear end off. You ain't no hyena, bitch, so why you laughing like one? That's one of the zingers I have written down in burndave.txt. I never remember it when it's relevant.

I remembered it this time and was about to say it, but Dave had a mission in his eyes. His laughter stopped. gently caress, now I can't do the burn. He concentrated, looked loving intense. There was silence between us for ten seconds. I heard a rerun of a Depends commercial on the TV, saw colors dancing in my peripheral vision. I realize now he was actually breathing in very slowly and definitely, but at the time his massive gut belied no inner movement. He closed his eyes, raised the doobie to his puckered lips, and sucked like a two-dollar whore drinking a really thick milkshake through a straw. I watched in amazed horror as the pole of chronic combusted, smoked, and transformed its entire length into ash over the course of mere seconds. Dave sucked it all in, then laid back down on the couch, a smug look on his wide features. The shriveled roach he stuffed up his nose and swallowed whole.

"Jesus loving Christ!" I ejaculated, mouth wide open, neck craning forward shamelessly in total blazed astonishment. Abject stoned abashment, that's what I fuckin felt. He had killed the last few inches like it was nothing. My mind emptied. Our living room was a cocoon, a place where none but he and I could enter, and he had become a magic man. It was like rooming with a shaman. Eekum bokum, I remembered from Banjo-Kazooie. Dave belched a ring of smoke that billowed out and enshrined his head. I sat down and leaned back against the back of the couch, just zooted out of my mind. I cursed when I realized I had to get up to get a beer. While I was up I also grabbed a second and third beer, a lemonade, a bag of Lays, a box of Cheez-Its, a cold entire pizza, and a canister of butterlike spread. I sat down on the couch beside the now-upright, clearly mega-ripped Dave. When he asked me to hand him some chips I told him to get up and get your own food, human being. We killed time until midnight with increasingly large joints, daytime TV, Call of Duty, and a shitload of Valium I kept in a sock.

Cobweb Heart fucked around with this message at 11:10 on Sep 9, 2014

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

A1989 Honda Accord
Sep 9, 2014
I can't say I really get the humor. Can you explain what should be funny about it? There are some stylistic things that could use a bit of work. First, it's confusing. It's ambiguous who's talking during quotes. Formatting could help with that. Your're kinda abusing adverbs. There's one sentence where you use suddenly twice. I'd go through and just delete all the adverbs and only add them back after you read it out loud if it doesn't sound right.

  • Locked thread