home authors guest shorts graphical shorts
“Costas, I’m hungry,” simpered that pitiful fucking fryboy. He’d been annoying me like this for days. First the little turdsicle’d been uncharacteristically gruff with this ‘Oh look at me, I’m a wounded animal’ outrage, but now his candy puss was plying this self-pitying hallucinatory whine. Fuckin’ faggot. “Just think it through brotha.” I said. I like playing the ‘I’m-all-in-control rational role’ even though we all know it’s the ‘I’m- fuckin’-pretending-to-be-in-control-even-though-I’m-just-as-out-of-my- scrot-as-all-of-you-butt-fucking,-you-butt-fucking,-you-butt-FUCKING- FAGGOTS-NEED-A-DADDY-SO-I’LL-PLAY-THE-STAGE-UNTIL-THE-RAFT-SINKS-role.’ So anyway, our crab boat got split by some Exxon Valdez ass shit and we’re on this inside-out-cunt-of-a-raft for 6 days. Sam this hairless anus cook bitch was “sooooo fuckin’ hungy…please god…I’m so fuckin’ hungy.” Waaa. I’m all “Go eat your foreskin you uncirc prep cook” but I trade him my toothpaste for his share of the water in the solar still. Slow much Sam? Anyway he knocks-off a few thousand waves later. I SURREPTITIOUSLY take out the bag of spuds I’ve been sleeping on and tie some invisa fishing line to a life vest and then float the spuds on the vest like 20 feet from our raft. “Sam!!!! Jesus Lawd!! Wakestup brotha!!! Dems bees spuds over there. Days musta follered da xact current as Us did Sammy ol fella,” I said. “Oh my God!, Food!!, ” he yipped. “Sams, tie dis heya ropes roundst yo wace anuh swin fo da taters,” I said. “But Costas, I can’t swim,” he yipped. “Lawdy youz jussa gotsta swin fo it Sambo!! I sure nuf cansts moves my arm frumst da hungers. I gots da hungers Sam. All up in my arm,” I said. So he tied on the rope and took a swim for the spuds. I know playing the Uncle Remus thang was kinda cheap, not that Sam 's black or anything, but my whole demeanor got him going for the vittles quicker than a nigger for a rapefest . But anyway douchebag, at said juncture I started thinking how fungry I was. So I cut the rope when Sam was almost to the spuds and started swatting the water with our oar to kick some froth at the bitch. He screamed and started drowning and shit and looked really unpleasant. So I got pissed and and coaxed him back. “Heben hep us! You can makst it Sam. Don’t chu worries ‘bout nuffin’. I’mza not goinsta lepts you drownsd,” I said. He looked perplexed but relieved and reached for the raft with his blueing hand. “Please pull me in,” he yipped as he approached the sleek watercraft. So I cracked his skull with a few heavy smacks from the oak oar. He was sooo royally fucked. I pulled him onboard and let him bleed-out in the boat. Then I pulled in the spuds. My slut wife'll tell you, I'm a meat and potatoes man, and I ate damn good the next week. And no, I didn't fuck his cold dead ass, but it was the last thing I ate.
Date Written: December 22, 2005
Average Vote: 4.5