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"Heyy-AYYY," she crooned from the far side of our cube's opaque partition, "Wanna hear something...funny?" This last bit trailed off into that tongue-flapping-across-the-two-front-teeth laugh of hers, an aural assault of vibrating tee-H sounds! Barely glancing upward, I caught sight of her hugangoid sphere, her cranial mistake, her home of holes, her HEAD.
"...," I replied, cranking my balls into a coil to keep from crying out.
Encouraged, she went on. "I just love that part in Pulp Fiction where...thhh-ttt-thhh...deh heh..th...where the colored guy goes...thhh...'What's a nigger gonna do, eat some more'!"
Boy. I sure don't have to tell you how difficult it was to keep it together when she botched that line. I especially don't have to tell you because I didn't keep it together!
Instead, I reached into the cabinet and removed my kevlar arm sleeve, affixed the curved fist attachment and lubed that motherfucker with Crisco. Nude, I leapt upon the desk, and declared, "The line is: what's a nigger gonna do? He's SAMOAN!!" I rolled my dong along the edge of the partition, screeching "EEEEEEEEEE!!!" with all I could muster.
And then I set upon her like a puma, like a puma with a kevlar sleeve w/ fist probe attachment, actually, and plunged the arm into her gaping maw.
There was a struggle. But soon my hand saw the light of day, poking happily from her aperture.
And when I saw the guy from HR giving me that look, I hoisted her up, pig-on-a-spit like, and pointed at him.
Date Written: June 11, 2003
Author: Dick Vomit
Average Vote: 4