- R.L. Stine
- Oct 19, 2007
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welcome to dead gay dog house
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I hosed my car up after running over a mattress on purpose so it was time to get a new car. I travelled 7 miles by foot to the nearest dealership and walked my rear end up to the counter and asked for their best deal. They took one look at me and my untied shoes with the big toe sticking out and my busted rear end top hat with a big red patch stitched onto it and knew that I was full of poo poo instantly, that I was not to be taken seriously as a customer. But it seemed that they were still willing to hook me up, and I trusted them because the guys that worke d there were all jocks like I am, and if youire a nerd then that's just something youll never understand. They blindfolded me and drove me someplace for 20 minutes, then told me to get the gently caress out of the car. They coaxed me deep into a wooded area by jabbing me with a spike even though I was fine to just keep walking without the spike. They took off my blindfold and I saw the worst car I could have possibly imagined., It was all hosed up, there were no windows, it smelled like poison, and it was covered in pictures of mutilated fetuses because it was once used at abortion protests or something. But other than all that it was pretty good. The dealers made me sign some papers and cut off one of my ears and I was good to go. I thrusted my feet through the floor of the vehicle and started her up by running my legs like fred flintstone. It was instantly clear to me that I had been fooled into purchasing a loving caveman's car but that was not about to stop me from getting to my various destinations in my day to day. The car also played some horrible Mexicano music that I never figured out how to turn off because it used to be a taco truck before it was used to torment abortion enjoyers, which explained the big vats of boiling hot oil spilling all over the place as I drove around. I was only on the road for 10 seconds before getting hollered at. A very small man wearing nothing but denim overalls was trying to get my attention. "Your car sucks and I'm going to kick your rear end until you get a better one". wel;l, now I gotta pull over into this bobs discount furniture parking lot and get my rear end kicked by this guy, I guess. Just then, it occurred to me that I had planned a romantic arrangement in that very same parking lot, at the exact same time as the rear end kicking. Now, I know this sounds like one of those fun, classic premises, like a wacky situation you d see on a sitcom, or some harebrained PG 13 comedy movie. But the actual events were very sad. I told the man to hurry up and kick my rear end so I could lose the fight as quickly as possible and get to my date. I promised not to fight back, and he took that opportunity to punch the weakest part of my head (the mouoth) as many times as he could until he got bored and left. All my teeth were hosed and I had a big amount of blood coming out of my jowls. I saw my wife in the parking lot and she asked what happened and I said shut the gently caress up but there's no way she could understand the words I was saying in that state. I slumped against a curb and let her attempt to jack off my limp penis while I layed there like a sack of poo poo with my gaping maw oozing all over. the next day I ejected that drat car into a reservoir
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Oct 12, 2023 19:49
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