If I see another person “dabbing” I’m breaking their testicles

Dabbing. It’s short for “I’m a fucking idiot”. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing got started and I’m not going to waste my time researching it. Why? Because I don’t give a damn how it started, but I’ll tell you how it is going to end: Me breaking their balls.

Not too long ago I finally managed to take a much needed vacation for almost a week. My wife and I spent four days and three nights at Disneyland. It was bad ass. However, I’m not here to talk about the trip in general. Why am I bringing it up? Have patience, little one, for a good story needs a good foundation and build up. Not everything can be handed to you snowflakes.

We had just enjoyed a nice trip through the tour in California Adventure with the sourdough when we decided to get a few pictures by the boardwalk themed section next to where you haul ass on California Screamin’. Blocking our way to taking the picture I wanted of my wife were urchins. Of course, by urchins I mean children. By children, I mean two 12 or 13 year old skeletons covered with skin who do nothing to aid in the progress of the species. The supposed mother of one of these bags of nothingness is encouraging their behavior of taking pointless pictures while blocking everyone’s paths up until one of them says he’s got “a great idea” for photo. What’s his great idea to hold us up with the greatest picture ever? It’s run over to the fake fishing net photo spot, kneel down, bounce up and do a dabbing pose. Yeah, because everyone can fucking see what you did by looking at a still photo, moron.

I wish I was kidding here. The woman took the picture THREE TIMES before they decided it would just be easier if he did the pose and held it while she took the picture. Just so you’re keeping count, two 12/13 year old boys and one woman in her 30’s is the brain power it took to figure this god damn shit out. I responded like any rational man: I grabbed her camera, toss him off the edge of the photo area and took his picture as he fell towards the track and was run over. I then headbutt the mother five times while simultaneously chopping the other one in the throat with the help of my wife who held him by the neck until he lost consciousness. After Security Guard Goofy informed us that was not acceptable and had us escorted out by Oswald Rabbit back into Disneyland, I realized I may have overreacted just a touch.

What I vow to do now is control myself and simply break the testicles of anyone stupid enough to be doing this. I’ve had critical success as of late with the technique as well. Anytime I’m in a club and I see someone doing this, it’s always some moron who thinks they are cool. Bam! One swift shot to the man eggs is all it takes to send a message I, and no one else, is going to put up with this bullshit.

Let’s face it, dabbing is the homosexual bastard with downs syndrome step-child no one actually loves of Tebowing. While Tebowing required a punch to the face, this more dramatic cure is required for something as stupid as dabbing. Putting your arms into a pose like you have cerebral palsy while simultaneously looking like you’re sniffing your own armpit is a sure fire way to signal you deserve what’s coming you way. BAM! Kick to the balls!

Remember, I could be anywhere. Do you really want to risk this? I didn’t think so. Even if I don’t, I’m sure I’ve encouraged someone, or maybe even an entire neighborhood, to just start dick kicking people they see dabbing. The cause is true. The cause is noble. The cause is everywhere. BAM! TESTICLE EXPLOSION!

This could be you. I will make it you. Don’t dab. The more you know!

Advertisements

FINALLY BANNED IN AN ENTIRE COUNTRY! (s)(t)

OH HAPPY DAYS! I got an e-mail from the WordPress admin staff!

SUBJECT: [WordPress #2810472]: Important information regarding your WordPress.com blog
Sal P. – WordPress.com
Mon 8/29, 3:32 PM

 

Hello,

A Russian authority — the Federal Service for Supervision in the Sphere of Telecom, Information Technologies and Mass Communications (ROSKOMNADZOR) — has demanded that we disable the following content on your WordPress.com site:

https://sunrie.wordpress.com/2013/06/05/suicide-getting-it-right-the-first-time/

Unfortunately, we must comply in order to keep WordPress.com accessible for everyone in Russia. We have disabled this content only for Internet visitors originating from Russia. Visitors from other countries are not affected.

You and your readers may be interested in the following document for suggestions on bypassing Internet restrictions:
http://en.support.wordpress.com/bypassing-internet-restrictions/

For your reference, we have included a copy of the complaint below. No reply is necessary, but please let us know if you have any questions.

-– BEGIN NOTICE –-
Направляется уведомление о внесении в «Единый реестр доменных имен, указателей страниц сайтов в сети «Интернет» и сетевых адресов, позволяющих идентифицировать сайты в сети «Интернет», содержащие информацию, распространение которой в Российской Федерации запрещено» следующего(их) указателя (указателей) страницы (страниц) сайта в сети «Интернет»:https://sunrie.wordpress.com/2013/06/05/suicide-getting-it-right-the-first-time/ .

В случае непринятия провайдером хостинга и (или) владельцем сайта мер по удалению запрещенной информации и (или) ограничению доступа к сайту в сети «Интернет», будет принято решение о включении в единый реестр сетевого адреса, позволяющего идентифицировать сайт в сети «Интернет», содержащий информацию, распространение которой в Российской Федерации запрещено, а доступ к нему будет ограничен.

Сведения о включении доменных имен, указателей страниц сайтов сети «Интернет» и сетевых адресов доступны круглосуточно в сети «Интернет» по адресу http://eais.rkn.gov.ru .

С уважением,
ФЕДЕРАЛЬНАЯ СЛУЖБА ПО НАДЗОРУ В СФЕРЕ СВЯЗИ, ИНФОРМАЦИОННЫХ ТЕХНОЛОГИЙ И МАССОВЫХ КОММУНИКАЦИЙ.

It is notice of making an entry into the “Unified register of domain names, Internet web-site page links and network addresses enabling to identify the Internet web-sites containing the information prohibited for public distribution in the Russian Federation” the Internet web-site page (s) link (s): https://sunrie.wordpress.com/2013/06/05/suicide-getting-it-right-the-first-time/ .

In case the hosting provider and (or) the Internet web-site owner fail to take these measures, the network address enabling to identify Internet web-sites containing the information prohibited for distribution in the Russian Federation will be decided to be entered into the Register and access will be limited.

The information about entering the domain names, Internet web-site page links and network addresses into the Register shall be available on a 24-hour basis at the following Internet address: http://eais.rkn.gov.ru/en/ .

Federal Service for Supervision in the Sphere of Telecom, Information Technologies and Mass Communications (ROSKOMNADZOR).
–- END NOTICE –-

Regards,

Sal P. | Community Guardian | WordPress.com

I’m so fucking happy I could cry! So…guess I’m back to writing whatever, whenever, instead of just trying to be shocking for a specific reason. YAY!!!

Domestic Violence – Cure Has Been Found!

This is great! Like two scoops or raisins!
The greatest news from specialists at the “Mayo Labs” has been released yesterday, and we’re glad to be one of the first people to bring it to you, thanks to use completely disregarding our NDA!

Since the beginning of time, or rather 1994 in America, we’ve been doing everything we can to end domestic violence by calling attention to it with special laws. We’ve originally believed the issue was deep routed psychological issues, or even a learned behavior from previous generations. All the research in the world didn’t seem to help. That is until now! What is this miracle cure which is guaranteed to stop any and all domestic violence? Here it is:

Shut the Fuck Up!

Yep. That’s it! Think about how simple an instruction this is. You’d think everything would be much more complicated, but the facts prove it really isn’t. Checking with current and former domestic violence victims we can see everything stems from not just keeping their mouth shut unless asked directly for a response…and even then it might be better to just shut up.

The Core Principle
At its core the principle is simple and yet complicated. As human beings, we’re conditioned to speak with others and even provide responses. Those of us who have been wronged are often found trying to find defense with our words. This faulted evolutionary trait must be fought and controlled if we are to continue to evolve as a species while also ending domestic violence.

Imagine this scenario:
Your husband/boyfriend/brother/guy friend comes home and he’s already in a bad mood. He has a history of knocking in your teeth for being a “disrespectful bitch” and he is expecting, not only a nice dinner, but a deep vacuum of the entire place. You managed to get a 100% perfect job on vacuuming the carpet, but the broccoli is slightly cold in the middle, meaning you didn’t cook it well enough.

Man – “What the fuck is this?!”
You – “Dinner…”
Man – “No! THIS IS SHIT! It’s FROZEN in the middle!”
You – “I did it the way…”

Suddenly he jumps across the table and punches your stupid face into the ground.

This was your fault. You didn’t keep your mouth shut! You shouldn’t have said anything.

Now let’s look at how you should have handled the same situation, but keeping your mouth shut:

Man – “What the fuck is this?!”
You – “…”
Man – “You fucking IGNORING ME?!”
You – “…”
Man – “YOU DISRESPECTFUL BITCH!”

Suddenly he jumps across the table, grabs you by the throat for a second and then stops sighing.

Man – “At least you did the fucking vacuuming! I’m going out for dinner. Eat your shit or starve!”

He then leaves, bangs a random bar slut, gets an STD, and then fucks your brains out later that night to assert his dominance. You are in a much better position this time!

Psychology of the Cure
The only psychology involved is your own. Keeping your mouth shut takes tremendous mental strength. By doing exercises such as no longer speaking to friends and family nor communicating with anyone at all, you can eventually learn to keep your mouth shut unless specifically asked to respond. Even when asked to respond, you should know exactly what is expected of you. This can take years, so getting out of the relationship just because you’re weak is ill advised.

Testimonials from the Participants
We’ve acquired some testimonials from participants of the original study for your reading pleasure. You’ll see the subject’s names and read their experience with it all, including how long it lasted before hand.


Name: Sarah McKennis
Nationality: Irish
Current Residence: Missouri
Results According to Subject:
My husband, Mitchell, was one of the hardest hitters I had ever been with. He would beat me until I would fall unconscious constantly. No matter what the conversation was about, it would end with me getting slugged in the face like it was there for visible punctuation. The exclamation marks were his favorite. His cock though…oh my god! It’s the biggest reason I didn’t leave him, and besides, I’m a strong woman and not a quitter.

When I heard of this study I told Mitchell. “GOOD!” he told me and busted my face open so deeply I ended up with six staples across my face from biting a hole in my own face. I didn’t even wait for my mistake to heal and went straight to the study.

How are things now? Well, I’ve learned to keep my mouth closed and only speak when I should be replying. As for why I’m in this hospital bed giving my evaluation…well…I forgot to check attitude at the door when he made a comment about feeling old. Rule number one is to shut the fuck up, and I didn’t. I told him it’s okay if he gets old and I still love him. My mistake! However, the study still stands and I give it a 100%


Name: Timmy Ashford
Nationality: American
Current Residence: New Mexico
Results According to Subject:
Stephen is my step-dad. Well, he’s my step-dad in the sense he’s always having sex with my mother, lives with us, eats all our food, drinks all day, refuses to marry my mom and give me a father in a proper family setting, all the while beating my ass raw. I used to be a bad kid, but now I know my place. I no longer make the same mistakes as so many of my friends do. He even lets me call him Stephen now and not “Master”.

What started me in the trial is when Stephen had been asking me to clean my room five or six times in a single day. Like I said, I was a bad kid in those days, and refused to do anything he said because I was angry at him for just being around. So, after the fifth or sixth time of him screaming for me to clean up my room, I yelled back, “FUCK YOU STEPHEN! You’re not even my real dad!” You can imagine the three hour beating with a belt, a hot curling iron, and his fists. He got so tired my mother even had to take over beating me when he broke his hands on my ass!

My mommy had enough of my attitude and couldn’t take the stress anymore, just knowing I would continue to make Stephen mad, so she looked through the papers on where she could take me. She stumbled upon the trial and enrolled me right away. I got time away from Stephen and learned to keep my mouth shut for my own good!

A+ program and I highly suggest all other bad kids, which is all kids, to enroll!


Name: Tiffany-Sage Haddler
Nationality: British
Current Residence: Idaho
Results According to Subject:
My mummy always wants me to wear bright colours and act as a lady, but I just didn’t like it all too much. Mummy does know what is best, but in my silly head I could just not see that as a fact and I acted up just like all these spoiled American brats. No longer do I, however!

I would talk back to my mummy and ask her what she knew, and the result would be immediate and severe slaps among my face and fanny. She would constantly ask me how I would ever expect to please a husband if I spoke back all the time. My daft reasoning was that I did not want to be a stay at home mummy like mummy, who earned money by bringing in strange men and making me watch so they would both pay more and finish faster. Oh, what a sod I was!

Thanks to this program, I now know a proper woman is seen and not heard. She does exactly that and more. The more is what my mummy teaches me. I now have the skills and education early enough to carry me throughout my adult life in order to become a proper lady of the house!

I will raise many cups of tea in the honour of this program!


Name: Julian Nielson
Nationality: Ameri-queer
Current Residence: Gay Bay
Results According to Subject:
Mmmm…my name is Julian, but call me Sally RoughRider! I love long walks on the beach, blonds, and butt sex! Tee hee!!!! I know this isn’t a dating service, you giggly gooses!

My life partner, Bruce, who I always call “OH damn! THAT MAN!!!!” in a loving way, used to break a foot off in my ass, and I don’t mean in a fun gay way. Oh no. He’d kick the shit out of me almost every time I opened my whore mouth. That was the problem, you see, since as a gay man I don’t know when to shut up. It’s just genetics, and you can’t fight genetics, but you can control your nasty habits like talking all the time.

The last straw was when Bruce came home drunk and stinking of both strange men and vagina. Trust me, you can tell the difference in that smell! Well, once again I opened my stupid whore mouth and he beat me to the point of needing medical treatment for damn near a month. While laying out in the hospital, he was reading me the obituaries to remind me I could end up in there, when I caught a glimpse of this trial and knew I needed help.

Now I only open my mouth to suck dick! Great improvement! Much love!

I ♥ (‿|‿)!


There you have it, everyone! Keep your fucking mouth shut if you don’t want to get your ass beat by your significant other. Doesn’t just work for normal people and women: It’s obviously great for gays and children, too!

Know your place!

Breast Cancer: Nature’s Lolcat

Breast Cancer is Nature's Lol Cat 1
Breast Cancer is Nature’s Lolcat

…according to the Susan B. Colmen Foundation, anyway. If you’re confused to what a lolcat is, it’s a meme in which an image macro of one or more cats has text that is idiosyncratic and grammatically shit. They’re also considered the number one most hilarious jokes ever created on the Internet, standing the tried and true test of time. Even ancient Egyptians had lolcats, going so far as to paint the walls of the pyramids with them in their resting chambers.

So, how does this all tie in? Well, breast cancer is pretty terrible and even ancient Egyptians dealt with it. In addition, breast cancer isn’t all that smart, just like cats, and even has pretty bad grammar. Nature throws breast cancer out, and it’s always a massively hilarious shock when you find out you have it. Especially when you’re a guy and get titty sickness! Oh, and let’s not forget cats get breast cancer, too. The joke keeps getting funnier!

The Susan B. Coleman Foundation every year recognizes the most hilarious breast cancer situations from around the world. They give out awards, called “Double D Dones”, to a handful of sufferers, with some of the most coveted trophies ever created. The Double D Dones go back to 1992 when the foundation first started the award ceremony. Thanks to advancement in the medical field women who receive the Double D Dones can actually get double d breasts back. One of the benefits of receiving the award is free breast augmentations. The best thing about the procedures is the breasts are completely fake, so the chance for cancer to take them again are almost zero.

Flat tittiesJust like every hilarious joke, the meme of breast cancer comedy jams has taken the world by storm. One would think there would be some negative backlash, but ever since the origin of the Internet, the meme of breast cancer comedy jams have been around. This completely predates Hampster Dance and even Nigger Chucking, the latter of which has fallen out of favor for Darkie Spear Dancing. With one search anyone can find a new breast cancer comedy jam almost every day!

Sadly, science is working on a 100% cure for breast cancer and they are getting extremely close. Right now there is a drug called tamoxifen being produced to prevent breast cancer with an 86% success rate. Obviously, this isn’t a popular outcome and people have been protesting in record numbers. The Susan B. Coleman Foundations has put up millions of dollars to prevent this terrible drug from coming to the masses, even going as far as suing doctors who give it to patients.

You can get involved in this protest and save the free augmented breasts by heading over to the Susan B. Coleman Foundation website and, the slightly less popular, Tat-tas for Da Wurld! website. Together we can keep breast cancer from becoming a legend, then a myth, and finally a religious justification to start a war!

What the shit do I have to do? (s)

So, it’s come to my attention several websites are blocked through network organizations such as Maraki or Apple stores for different reasons. One of these reasons is the classification of “Tasteless”. Some of these sites might be somewhat understandable, such as Ogrish, even if you don’t agree, but then there are others, such as Newgrounds, which don’t seem to fit. This brings me to my problem: Why the fuck am I not on there?

From what I can tell, there isn’t much difference between my writings and what are on most of those sites, especially the like of Something Awful or even Maddox. Sure you might argue the popularity or even writing style, but I swear I’ve stated some much more offensive things for the only reason of shocking someone. I’m kind of offended through all of my effort I haven’t been blocked on any of these filters yet. Hell, even in High School I had my Internet privileges revoked for a site I made which was hosted on the school server. I mean, I was still able to bypass all their security measures and use the Internet at school under a general user and password, but still.

Basically my goal has become this: By the end of the year, I want to be banned from viewing my own WordPress at work and/or on other networks, such as in an Apple store or even from Maraki in general.

This is going to take work. First of all, I won’t be displaying porn or dick picks. Secondly, it’s going to take writing a lot more often and a lot more “offensively”. Third…I don’t know… Fourth is profit in the discontent I have brought upon the world. You kids would do well to remember you measure your impact on the world not by the joy you bring to a few people in your life, but the amount of pain, anguish, and displeasure you have wrought upon a great number of people through both direct and indirect actions!

If I fail, then you all fail, because this is where you all come in. You’re going to need to spread this WordPress like SARS in a Japanese apartment building or AIDs in a San Francisco bakery. (There. That right there is what I was talking about earlier!) Let’s get on my dick to ride this bitch into the sun and take out the entire solar system. I’d say I’m counting on you, but I know I can only count on myself.

Forward. To the end of the world as I braise it in holy fire!

Open letter from Rockstar Games marketing department

As an avid game journalist with one of the highest integrity ratings around, I was privy to receive an open letter to the gaming community from Rockstar Games, written by Take-Two Interactive’s marketing department. While the contents may shock some people, I’m not surprised with the attitude.

Rockstar Games was founded in 1998 to create the most innovative and progressive interactive entertainment, and some people have found ways of cheating in order to ruin the game for everyone else in a server…But it doesn’t matter, because our games are on the cover of multiple magazines and posters. Look how cool our characters from Grand Theft Auto V look holding those guns while surrounded by expensive cars. If you play our game online and give us more real money to afford our expensive virtual items, you’ll be that cool, too. And chicks will dig you.

At Rockstar Games, we allowed you to go online with a bunch of people, just like a bunch of other companies have done, dating back to 1996. However, ours is better, because we charge you astronomical prices for in game items in order to make you buy our Shark Cards. Because you suck, and we hate you.

You gave us $1.8 billion US in three days for Grand Theft Auto V. It may have been buggy, it still doesn’t include half the features we promised, and most of you can’t afford our in game items, but that’s your fault. If you were real fans and real gamers, you would love everything we’ve done to the game and to you. Once again, look at those new items we released in the Flight School update. You know you want those items. If you were a real gamer and a real fan, you would have enough money from grinding every hour of every day, only playing our game, or you’d buy our Shark Cards for $50 US a piece until you could afford it. And by the way, check out those cuts to the jobs we did for doing them fast and efficiently instead of wasting time. If you were really a true gamer and fan, you wouldn’t mind it. Plus, we interviewed 100 people and they all like it without complaining. Real fans would lick our boots clean, give us their entire paycheck, and tell everyone to do the same. If you don’t like it, that’s because you’re not a true fan nor gamer.

By the way, our expensive in game items like the Milijet and Buzzard Attack Chopper, are the bestest things ever, and totally worth the asinine scalped prices, but note that any other company which does this with their games, like Capcom, are commie jerks. Not that it matters, because you bought our game and we want more money from you. Because you suck, and we hate you, but you know you’ll keep coming back, eventually breaking down and buying our Shark Cards. We can continue to beat you down like Chris Brown does to Rhianna, but you’ll come back…you always do.

Buy more Shark Cards or we’ll keep removing your ability to earn money effectively in the game.

Sincerely

Take-Two Interactive Marketing Department by care of Rockstar Games. Because you suck. And we hate you.

Real Life Trolling: Includes an actual bridge


Working in a restaurant can suck. Unlike in the movies, it isn’t the constant bed swap with everyone who works there. Sure, that happens, but it’s not one blur of an orgy I’d like it to be. There’s the long hours, little pay, and you always go home smelling like you rolled around in every mix of spice before deep frying yourself. Luckily, anytime someone wants any “thing” to relax, one person or another has it. Granted, it’s not all bad. Even for a cook.

Just so you guys remember, I’m in pretty good shape, but I chain smoke, and like to drink my beer as if it were grape Kool-Aide in south central Los Angeles. In other words, I down that shit like I had to keep my veins filled. I’ve got plenty of tattoos and a naturally sour disposition, so working in the restaurant is just perfect for me. The staff is generally as bitter as I am, but we like to have our fun by teasing each other.

If you’ve ever worked in a restaurant before, you know how there are certain rituals/routines you do, especially the late shift. My routine consisted of grabbing a 24 pack of cheap beer and meeting with the rest of the closers under a bridge crossing over the city river. We hang out, drink, make out, get high, and at least one “couple” gets a fuck or two in. It’s a great way to blow off steam, and generally speaking, no one bothers us since no one ever goes down there. Hell, we’re not even supposed to be down there, but whatever. Fuck the pigs. They would never be able to chase us all down, anyway.

Well on this particular night I was going to end up being alone. Most of the closing shift was also going to open, and those who didn’t either had class the next morning or other plans. “Fuck it,” I thought to myself, “No reason to waste a perfectly good spring night, right?” So, I took my beer and headed to the hang out spot, tucked myself up under the bridge, pulled my bandana lower on my brow, lit up a cigarette and cracked open a beer. I relished that beer. The dinner service was a night bred by the unholy sexcapade between the Twilight Zone and Satan’s asshole. I’m not kidding…it was odd, hot, and annoying. I closed my eyes, taking a long drag and slowly exhaled, imagining the smoke itself was all of the stress for the day…no, the god damn week escaping my body. As tranquility and the start of a buzz slowly began to set over me, as at this time I was eight beers in, my peace was disturbed by one of the most annoying sounds I have ever heard.

Have you ever heard SpongeBob SquarePants laugh, but with an odd Boston accent followed by guffaws belched out by retarded hicks trying to sound like they are 50 Cent? Be glad you haven’t, because my blood pressure instantly raised. The fact I hadn’t realized they were coming to my location wasn’t annoying enough, their laughing and voices did. Their echoed cackles off the concrete pierced my ears like a thousand rusty nails making it impossible, for the moment, for me to hear what they then continued to chatter on about. I remained in my perch, waiting for them to say something to me as they came under the bridge, but they didn’t. Instead, they stopped directly next to the edge of the concrete ledge and sat down. I realized at that moment, they had no idea I was there. So, I stayed quiet, and sipped on my beer.

Just so you know, the concrete spillway, which everyone called a river, was normally pretty close to empty. Thanks to an unusual amount of seasonal rain, the water was only about two feet below the edge. The water looked cold, but was obviously not flowing very fast…at least noticeably on the surface. I’m sure there was some undertow at work, but I’m not a fucking water scientist, so I don’t know. I’d just assume the water would be uncomfortable to swim in.

When my ears regained the ability to hear sounds again, I learned their names. Well, I kind of did. The obvious leader of the pack was named Chuck. The only reason I know this is because his little rat friend kept calling him “Chuck”. I’m not kidding…it was “Chuck” this and “Chuck” that, and “Okay, Chuck!” there, and “That’s funny, Chuck!” here. One thing was immediately obvious to me: I hated Chuck with all of my being. He was a huge piece of shit who got off on the little bit of power he had over that little rat faced punk and the girl. The douche bag wore a mostly white wife beater. The reason I say “mostly” is due to the yellow marks under the arm holes, which could be seen even in the terrible light provided by the over head street lamps. He accented the high taste in clothing by wearing pants sagged below his ass, where his red and blue stripped boxer shorts were visible. For shoes? Flip flops. Yeah…

The girl, who had an obvious red dye job and wore a tank top two sizes too tight and cut off shorts three sizes too small, was named “Bitch”. I don’t know if that was her actual name, but it’s all Chuck ever called her. The little rat faced bastard never referred to her as anything. She was also the source of the most offensively stereotypical Boston accent I had ever heard. At first I thought she was just pretending, but the more she talked the more I realized it never changed. Her voice always sucked, and almost the only thing she did was tell Chuck how great he was or repeat something he said, followed by that fucking SpongeBob laugh. If she wasn’t with these two dumb asses and didn’t have that voice, I’d have been more than happy to ruin her plumbing. That voice, though…eesh. The mere thought of her sex screams with that voice kept my penis softer than a feather.

Oh, and last but not least was Steve, also known as “dumb fuck / twat / dip shit / retard / faggot”, according to Chuck. “Bitch” was the only one to ever call him Steve, so I figure that was his God given name, not Chuck’s nicknames for him. From what I could tell, this kid was a bit younger than both Chuck and “Bitch”, but he was obviously smarter than both combined. What he was doing with both of them, I don’t know, but he always made sure not to correct Chuck or “Bitch” at any point during the conversation. Several times he had the look on his face which could be read as, “That’s…not right…but he’s the leader and she’s fucking him so I’ll be quiet!” Hell, he even dressed what I could consider “normal”. Because of his submissiveness, however, I hated him almost as much as Chuck, but not quite as much as “Bitch”…by a hair.

Yes, I had briefly thought about leaving, but since they didn’t know I was there, I figured there was no point. Over the course of about an hour, I drank the rest of my beer and watched the spectacle of the bottom of the gene pool in front of me. These geniuses discussed everything from the uber important “faggot ass cops” to “just print more money”. To say I was in awe would be an overstatement. It’s when Chuck announced he had to “take a mean fucking piss” things got interesting. Instead of going elsewhere, Chuck stood straight up, dropped his pants around his ankles, and began to pee into the water. At least at first.

See, Chuck was proving he was a big boy. With his hands on his hips, Chuck leaned backwards while pissing and let out this, “Argh wahahahahah argh!” Both Steve and “Bitch” laughed and cheered him on. In a move taken straight out of a German porn, Chuck turned toward Steve and began pissing on him. Steve did his best to block the stream from his face, but it wasn’t very effective. Whipping to the side, Chuck then began to piss on “Bitch”. Surprisingly, “Bitch” did nothing to get out of the way. Apparently she was used to being marked as territory, because she just laughed. I had enough at this point. It was time to take action.

I became a man with a mission. Deeply sucking in the last of my cigarette, I blew it out like a steam powered train before pulling my bandana over my mouth like a wild west bandit. I charged down the little hill towards them. They were still completely oblivious to my presence. I had the element of surprise!

For no reason I can fathom, perhaps fueled by my increasing inebriation, as I neared them I screamed out, “COBRA!!!!!” I was possessed by the 1980’s cartoon G.I. Joe enemies, guided by the dark hand of Cobra commander. Again, I don’t know why, but it just felt so right. It also had the desired effect of scaring the shit out of all three of them. I mean, three wannabe wiggers hanging out under a bridge at two in the morning suddenly being charged by a man in a bandana over his face is scary shit.

Chuck spun around in fear, the last bit of piss soaking his boxers and pants. He tried in vain to reach down in order to pull his pants up, but I was too fast. I jumped in the air and, using both knees against his upper body while pushing his head back with my arms, I knocked Chuck into the water. His, “WHAT THE FUCK!” was cut short as he hit the water hard. “Bitch” managed to stand and begin to run, but my main focus was Steve at this point, who was trying to scramble to his feet. I grabbed Steve by a fist full of hair, punched him in the ribs, and then threw him into the water as well, right next to Chuck. Before I could admire my work for too long, I realized “Bitch” was getting away. Like the mighty toro, I charged after her, cocked my hand back, and smacked her so hard on the ass I literally knocked her off her feet. She got a good foot or so of air as she grabbed her backside and screamed about her ass as she hit the floor. The funniest part about cracking her on the ass that hard, besides the extremely loud echo from the impact of my hand on her little butt, was how she screamed. Her accent made it sound something akin to, “Moyi awwss!”

Laughing, I beat back in the other direction, and saw Chuck desperately trying to get out of the water, but failing to do so due to his pants keeping him from pulling himself up. Steve, however, showed that small sign of intelligence and swam down stream a few yards where the ledge was shorter. It was a sign of independence and thought which would no doubt get him a severe beating by Chuck later, since Chuck saw Steve getting out of the water and began swimming his direction. Just as Steve got out of the water completely, I body slammed him back into the water, right on top of Chuck’s head. I continued to laugh as I ran towards the exit and my car. The entire time, I could hear Chuck screaming how he was going to find me and murder my family. Good luck with that buddy.

The moment I got in my car, I heard sirens in the distance. I am certain they weren’t coming for us, but I wanted to take no chances, and floored my Impala as hard as I could. That rebuilt LT1 growled to life as my tires smoked before gaining traction. All the way home I laughed. It was the best sleep and time under that bridge I had in a long time…and that includes all the fucking I had done there previously.