A cold night in London it was. The winter night's chill so crafty; able to crawl up your spine with haste and make you shudder like a little girl pissin' her pants on the school bus.
This story begins a truly ominous place - inside of a van where someone was getting raped. And that would be Peter Pan's mother, being un-consensually pleased by Peter Pan's father, Picolo. If it makes things sounds better, it was her idea.
It was Picolo's idea to do a whole 8-ball, grab a hooker in the alley and have sex with her...even if she wasn't really 'feelin it' after getting coked out.
Nine months later Peter Pan was born, with a tail. They chopped that off REAL quick.
Picolo never saw his son. Peter's mother, Gloria Pan, ditched him at a rave when he was eleven years old. This is when Peter Pan started developing his insane addiction to crack cocaine; the 'Pixie Dust'. It's also where he first encourted a flying fairy who took literally took him out of this world to start a new life together.
She was the one who introduced him tot he dust, after all.
Peter on the dust flew wearing rags for clothing. Sometimes even jumping people's rooftops trying to spread the pixie dust to anyone who wanted to think 'happy thoughts'. One night he came upon a girl named Wendy. He saw her from outside, and forced the window he opened. She melted in the sight of him at once.
Peter immediately took on an attraction to her. After conversing with her enough for her to feel better about him being in her room, he was interrupted by her cock-block brother John unexpectedly.
"What's all the commotion?" John demanded.
"Nothing, John. Peter here...was just getting ready to fuck me. Is that right, Peter?"
"It was kind of a joke.."
"What?!"
Peter and Wendy laugh, already sharing a unhealthy connection.
"Hey John - I'm gonna take your sister to Neverland and you're not coming. And if you tell anyone, I'll kill your dog."
"But we don't have a dog."
Peter sighs. "Then I'll kill the neighbor's dog and make it look like you did it."
"But that's not fair!" John shouts.
"So is your accent."
Before John can respond, Peter grabs Wendy and they fly out the window in one swift motion.
"Where are we going.." Wendy trails off as they approach the second star off to the right and go straight on til' morning.
"Damn. I forgot to get coffee," Peter notes. "You should see that bitch tink with caffeine in her. She can fly through your mouth and our your colon lickity-split. It's actually how I keep my weight down."
Wendy paid no attention to this. Her eyes were transfixed on a pirate ship Peter was flying towards.
"Peter! Who are those people?"
They flew faster.
The ship was long, grainy and wildly constructive. An interesting-looking man dressed in red with a feathery hat and hook for a hand stood high above his mates in anticipation.
Peter sets himself and Wendy down just before him. Wendy looks around in fear.
"Ah, Peter. So we have a deal after all? Alright, mates! Release the Lilly."
"Releasing the Lilly!"
"What is this Peter.." Wendy manages to say.
"You're new home," Peter declares.
A gang of pirates emerge from below the ship with an Indian broad. She's cut loose and jumps into Peter's hands and covers him with kisses.
Hook steps close to Wendy. "Well now..what is your name, miss?"
"Ugh..my name? My name.."
"Wendy," Peter croaks. "She oughta be able to get you through the winter, huh? When she's not telling stories and cooking supper she can clean your hook. Or whatever."
"Peter..you can't leave me here."
"Ha! Yes I can."
"C'mon..let's go Peter. My Dad is waiting for us. He's got some killer fuckin' weed," Tiger Lilly hints.
And with that, Peter and Lilly fly away.
Leaving Wendy in the hands of pirates on a ship on the bay.
"So - why don't you start with the laundry and then you can fix me my bubbly, dear?"
Wendy faints.
"Ah, shit. SMEE!"
A fat white-beared man emerges from the crowd of pirates.
"Ye-ye-yes, Capt'n?"
"Bring her inside. When she awakes I demand to know what the stock market is like and who in the fuck shot JFK," Hook growls.
"But Capt'n..are you sure she knows these things?"
"Peter said she did. And if she doesn't - we'll get that 'tink' back here. I'm sure Peter would love to join us while we all sing-along, 'C'mon baby light my fire'.."
"Ah, the classic by the windows, sir?"
"No, you idiot! They're called 'The Doors'. Jesus...what kind of idiot would name a band, 'The windows'? You are really fucking stupid, smee..."
THE END (for now)
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Fiddlin' Rob
Everyday, Rob goes about his business. He has a job, an apartment, and....video games. But other than that, Rob only has his job. No more experiences with his girlfriend, no more ex-mother-in-law pity fucks, no drugs..no nothing.
The most fun he has is picking his ass and then wiping the excrement(s) around the tip of his boss’s Starbucks coffee. He’s careful to wipe most the crud off so his personal brown dye can be mistaken for spilled ‘Joe’.
He does this every morning he enters the office. Mainly because he can, and also because he just doesn’t give a shit if he gets fired. His boss Drew has yet to NOT complain about how his coffee always smells like shit. Rob wonders why the fuck he keeps drinking it.
Today, his boss Drew takes a sip of it, grimaces, and says: “UGH…God!” And when Rob gives him a questioning look (as if he doesn’t know what’s going on), Drew says, “Never mind, Just keep ‘em comin!”
Rob couldn’t resist the urge to laugh LOUDLY somewhat to him-self. This followed with an uncontrollable passing of gas that luckily didn‘t result in more ammo. Rob thinks to himself that it may be in fact possible that his boss misinterpreted what to eat from your body as a child. It has to be the only way his boss drank that shit for so long.
Other kids ate boogers and snot; this guy shoved his hand up his ass and proceeded to gingerly fist his mouth. Maybe not like that, but just maybe. Why else would he literally drink ass juice?
This then led to Rob’s firing; the one big thing in his life. It wasn’t just Rob laughing at his boss Drew that got him canned…it was what was on the other side of the coffee cup. Drew’s fingers ran through Rob’s incidental shit stain. After three months, he had finally messed up and was caught red-handed.
Maybe today Rob had gone too far. On the other hand he thought, maybe he had won. Hadn’t he? His boss drank shit like four other times this week. Not to mention for three months straight. If anyone had ever gone too far, it was this dirty bastard.
And what made it even sweeter is his boss never did anything to piss him off except take the last napkin at lunch his first day. Rob happened to have barbecue pork, and he would always remember how he had to wipe his hands off on his co-worker’s coat. He felt kind of bad about that.
So…Rob went about his day. He thinks to go pick up a transvestite and send IT to his boss’s office as a sign of gratitude for keeping him as an employee as long as he did, but then pushes the thought away. Childish, he thinks.
Instead, fiddlin’ Rob decides he wants to cause a scene.
So he walks into a Chucky Cheese.
He buys an extra-large cheese pizza and sits down at a table.
He starts to undress.
He begins to call over a child to have a slice of pizza.
10 minutes later he has a bloody nose and is being arrested.
He thinks this is funny.
He’s going to be labeled a sex offender.
Now he finally has an excuse to not make it to his nephew’s dance recitals at his elementary school. Not only because his sister forced him to go, but because he was pretty sure his nephew is a homo.
Rob has accomplished a goal today.
And that’s a day in Rob’s life.
Do join us next time for his next adventure.
To be continued…
Fiddlin' Rob steals a Pooch Doggy
Fiddlin Rob Goes Hiking
*NEW* Fiddlin' Rob Gives Thanks on "Black Friday"
FOLLOW @humorousfiend
Monday, November 28, 2011
Fiddlin' Rob Gives Thanks on "Black Friday"
Continuation of the ongoing story of Fiddlin' Rob...
Well, It's the holiday season. Some would say that it's a time to 'give thanks'. Some would say, it's a time to be 'thankful' (or whatever the fuck).
Rob has not been feeling thankful. After an insane drug overdose and an unexpected trip to the Grand Canyon, Rob is under the belief that he has "hella bad" skin cancer. So it should come to no surprise that he has been smoking meth and shoving pcp up his ass.
In other words - he's upset with Jesus Christ.
Why? Well, there's really no rational reason. Kind of like Tim Tebow's success in the NFL this far. Can't make too much sense of it, and don't really want to.
Anyways...Thanksgiving time is here!
The guy who shit in his boss's coffee, purposely became a sex offender (to avoid his 'gay' nephew's dance recitals), stole someone's dog and threw up on a little girl while tripping BALLS...is quitting drugs and heading home for the holidays.
Without further adieu...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanksgiving: Rob's Parents house.
Rob and his parents have just sat down to eat some bird. Rob's mother Carol hushes her husband Dick to be quiet for Rob to say Grace...
"Dear God...thanks for mashed potatoes and turkey. And gravy, and stuff. Stuffing would of been cool. But this is cool. And ugh...yeah. Amen."
They all instinctively shrunk their shoulders and plow into their turkey. Rob grabs the gravy trey and takes a sip. He gargles the gravy before spitting it onto his peas.
"What the hell are you doing, boy?!" says Dick.
"Shit, I'm sorry dad. I just quit drugs so I'm a little odd right now. So...pardon me if I try to give thanks for that."
"What kind of a man gargles gravy like that? Are you a faggot or something?"
"Dick!" Carol snaps. "I'm going to pretend like this never happened. I expect you both to as well. It's Thanksgiving. So eat."
Dick quickly reaches across the table and grabs the gravy dish. In a fury, he covers his turkey and mashed potatoes with gravy and begins to devour it.
Carol takes a deep breath in and addresses Rob as warmly as a mother speaking to her baby.
"So Robert, how are you...you still have that nice job at the office?"
Rob grunts and re-swallows some turkey to clear his throat.
"No Mom. I'm off doing bigger things now."
"Yeah, he's taking it in the ass Carol," Dicks snarls.
"The hell with this." Rob sets down his fork and gets up from the table.
"Honey, please. Your father is just an asshole. Please sit down," pleads Carol.
Rob puts on his coat and storms out of the house. Dick immediately starts enjoying his meal with a song:
"Oh...the weather outside is frightful. And the fire is so...delightful."
"Shut up, Dick. Don't make me gargle some gravy and spit in your face. And you wouldn't want me to do that because then your face would start to look like your underwear; stained AND old.."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
November 25th, 2011 - 12:47am - "Black Friday"
Rob has been in line to check-out at 'a nearby toy store for over an hour. He's back on drugs, too.
While entering the store, he came upon a mother of two asking for help. Money, to be exact.
So Rob was nice and bought three pills of ecstasy off her before doing his shopping. With about fifty dollars to spend on presents for himself and a hell of a high approaching...he was ready to 'get busy'.
Fast forward to now. Rob is eight people back of the check-out. He looks really weird and out of place standing in line, sweating, with this huge smile and a handful of broken toys.
He looks like a crazy Willy Wonka crapping his pants and thinking to change it into a chocolate bar. If that makes any sense.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Twenty-seven minutes later. Check-out time.
The cashier is dumbfounded. Unable to scan any of Rob's toys, she looks up at Rob for an explanation.
"Uhm...how do you expect me to ring these up if they're out of their packaging?"
Rob wipes his brow with the back of his hand, tossing his wallet up on the counter with his other.
"Well...can't we just come to some sort of an agreement? I mean, the toys are all fucked up ANYWAYS. Nobody is paying for this crap. How about I...just give you my phone number, and then maybe I'll let you swipe my card and make a donation to Genital Herpes? Or maybe cancer of the mouth? Whichever one you might need because I am in the giving mood.."
People in line are silent, not sure whether to laugh or be mad as their desperate, short time of sale sadness comes closer to being over.
"Sir, you're going to have to step out of line with one of our employees to figure this out."
"What's to figure," crows Rob. "I think everyone here knows you're desperate to strip search me. You want to get into my ass, huh? Or wait, I'm misreading this. Don't take this the wrong way but your face gives me the vibe that you want me to go 'ass to mouth?' How about you ring up these toys....and maybe I'll tell you some crazy shit I once did for a Klondike bar...God this just feels right, you know?! I bet you would feel right, too."
"Help on aisle three please," the annoyed cashier lady says into her mic-thingy (that stretches from the computer-thingy).
"Get out line, prick!"
"Your wasting our time!"
"What these ppl don't understand is this is my favorite part of Christmas...fucking with people," declares Rob. He swiftly takes out a pack of Marlboro's and puts a cig in his mouth. He lights it while unbuckling his pants.
"This is a joke I think you'll like it....one time I finished masturbating and randomly thought - man, that kid would of been a fucking asshole," laughs Rob. "Like I would be stupid enough to have fuckin' children!"
Two security officers grab Robs pants as they start to fall. Rob elbows one of them, and starts running for the exit with his pants at his ankles, bear ass.
As he reaches the exit, a police woman comes through it, shooting pepper spray right onto his crotch. Rob immediately turns purple and screams like a little girl.
"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"
The lady officer tackles him to the ground, handcuffing him in no time.
"Well well well...if it isn't Fiddlin' Rob! I'll be damned...I guess Christmas came early."
To be continued...
Well, It's the holiday season. Some would say that it's a time to 'give thanks'. Some would say, it's a time to be 'thankful' (or whatever the fuck).
Rob has not been feeling thankful. After an insane drug overdose and an unexpected trip to the Grand Canyon, Rob is under the belief that he has "hella bad" skin cancer. So it should come to no surprise that he has been smoking meth and shoving pcp up his ass.
In other words - he's upset with Jesus Christ.
Why? Well, there's really no rational reason. Kind of like Tim Tebow's success in the NFL this far. Can't make too much sense of it, and don't really want to.
Anyways...Thanksgiving time is here!
The guy who shit in his boss's coffee, purposely became a sex offender (to avoid his 'gay' nephew's dance recitals), stole someone's dog and threw up on a little girl while tripping BALLS...is quitting drugs and heading home for the holidays.
Without further adieu...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanksgiving: Rob's Parents house.
Rob and his parents have just sat down to eat some bird. Rob's mother Carol hushes her husband Dick to be quiet for Rob to say Grace...
"Dear God...thanks for mashed potatoes and turkey. And gravy, and stuff. Stuffing would of been cool. But this is cool. And ugh...yeah. Amen."
They all instinctively shrunk their shoulders and plow into their turkey. Rob grabs the gravy trey and takes a sip. He gargles the gravy before spitting it onto his peas.
"What the hell are you doing, boy?!" says Dick.
"Shit, I'm sorry dad. I just quit drugs so I'm a little odd right now. So...pardon me if I try to give thanks for that."
"What kind of a man gargles gravy like that? Are you a faggot or something?"
"Dick!" Carol snaps. "I'm going to pretend like this never happened. I expect you both to as well. It's Thanksgiving. So eat."
Dick quickly reaches across the table and grabs the gravy dish. In a fury, he covers his turkey and mashed potatoes with gravy and begins to devour it.
Carol takes a deep breath in and addresses Rob as warmly as a mother speaking to her baby.
"So Robert, how are you...you still have that nice job at the office?"
Rob grunts and re-swallows some turkey to clear his throat.
"No Mom. I'm off doing bigger things now."
"Yeah, he's taking it in the ass Carol," Dicks snarls.
"The hell with this." Rob sets down his fork and gets up from the table.
"Honey, please. Your father is just an asshole. Please sit down," pleads Carol.
Rob puts on his coat and storms out of the house. Dick immediately starts enjoying his meal with a song:
"Oh...the weather outside is frightful. And the fire is so...delightful."
"Shut up, Dick. Don't make me gargle some gravy and spit in your face. And you wouldn't want me to do that because then your face would start to look like your underwear; stained AND old.."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
November 25th, 2011 - 12:47am - "Black Friday"
Rob has been in line to check-out at 'a nearby toy store for over an hour. He's back on drugs, too.
While entering the store, he came upon a mother of two asking for help. Money, to be exact.
So Rob was nice and bought three pills of ecstasy off her before doing his shopping. With about fifty dollars to spend on presents for himself and a hell of a high approaching...he was ready to 'get busy'.
Fast forward to now. Rob is eight people back of the check-out. He looks really weird and out of place standing in line, sweating, with this huge smile and a handful of broken toys.
He looks like a crazy Willy Wonka crapping his pants and thinking to change it into a chocolate bar. If that makes any sense.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Twenty-seven minutes later. Check-out time.
The cashier is dumbfounded. Unable to scan any of Rob's toys, she looks up at Rob for an explanation.
"Uhm...how do you expect me to ring these up if they're out of their packaging?"
Rob wipes his brow with the back of his hand, tossing his wallet up on the counter with his other.
"Well...can't we just come to some sort of an agreement? I mean, the toys are all fucked up ANYWAYS. Nobody is paying for this crap. How about I...just give you my phone number, and then maybe I'll let you swipe my card and make a donation to Genital Herpes? Or maybe cancer of the mouth? Whichever one you might need because I am in the giving mood.."
People in line are silent, not sure whether to laugh or be mad as their desperate, short time of sale sadness comes closer to being over.
"Sir, you're going to have to step out of line with one of our employees to figure this out."
"What's to figure," crows Rob. "I think everyone here knows you're desperate to strip search me. You want to get into my ass, huh? Or wait, I'm misreading this. Don't take this the wrong way but your face gives me the vibe that you want me to go 'ass to mouth?' How about you ring up these toys....and maybe I'll tell you some crazy shit I once did for a Klondike bar...God this just feels right, you know?! I bet you would feel right, too."
"Help on aisle three please," the annoyed cashier lady says into her mic-thingy (that stretches from the computer-thingy).
"Get out line, prick!"
"Your wasting our time!"
"What these ppl don't understand is this is my favorite part of Christmas...fucking with people," declares Rob. He swiftly takes out a pack of Marlboro's and puts a cig in his mouth. He lights it while unbuckling his pants.
"This is a joke I think you'll like it....one time I finished masturbating and randomly thought - man, that kid would of been a fucking asshole," laughs Rob. "Like I would be stupid enough to have fuckin' children!"
Two security officers grab Robs pants as they start to fall. Rob elbows one of them, and starts running for the exit with his pants at his ankles, bear ass.
As he reaches the exit, a police woman comes through it, shooting pepper spray right onto his crotch. Rob immediately turns purple and screams like a little girl.
"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"
The lady officer tackles him to the ground, handcuffing him in no time.
"Well well well...if it isn't Fiddlin' Rob! I'll be damned...I guess Christmas came early."
To be continued...
Monday, July 4, 2011
Fiddlin' Rob goes HIKING
Rob has been running a lot recently. He runs to build up his self-esteem, because his penis is two and a half inches long.
The last time we heard from Rob, he had stolen a pooch doggy and pissed himself in excitement after clubbing some bitch with a dildo in San Francisco.
The dog had become too much of a pest for Rob to care for, so one day he randomly handed it off to a woman in a wheelchair sitting outside a grocery store. Walking away he sang, “I feel Good,” while flipping both those bitches the finger.
Rob has long since ditched that disaster. The closest he has come to that mischief was when he took a shit inside some kids smore when he wasn't looking a week ago.
He now resides at a lake he still doesn’t know the name of. He also doesn’t know that he’s sent twenty-six tourists driving by in the opposite direction of the lake they were looking for (this one).
For those of you who have not read (or care) for Rob’s past adventures, they bare no meaning. For this tale alone is mighty meaty. Here’s how today started for Fiddlin’ Rob:
Rob woke up outside his tent. Rob made coffee and played with his lent. Rob got stoned and therefore foreshadowed; he was high on weed, coke, LSD & and a pill called “Sh-shallO.”
The high was crazy for Rob. He figured he could try and run it off, or at least go find help if necessary. But he’s been through rougher situations. He could manage himself, for now.
He made his way to the start of a path that HAS lead him to the highway before, so he thinks. His eyes lock on the ground just under the two mile sign, where he see’s a tiny smurf butt-fucking the shit out of Tinkerbell.
He shakes it off and keeps walking.
The earth below Rob felt hard, but he felt weak. The noises of numerous critters branch out from the underbrush alongside the path. The colors of nature around Rob dubiously sway and pulsate, especially when he briefly focuses on one area.
Rob walked on for what felt like an hour, but still had not come to the highway. He was starting to get...petrified. The drugs were REALLY kicking in now.
And Rob had that song stuck in his head, "It's a small world after all." He wished death and many misfortunes to those crazy bastards that ever started the song. He kept thinking that the world definitely isn't small, and that if it were, there wouldn't be six fucking billion people on it (after all).
As the path began to stir too much, Rob collapses to his knees. Blurred objects crisscross his line of sight, and the song in his head was driving him to the brink. He closed his eyes and blurted out what was on his mind:
"It's a fucking BIG world! It is! Those kids suck and they're stupid! I should mindfully fuck them with an overused expression!"
Rob then opens his eyes to see two little girls about the same height. For all he knew, they were twins. He suddenly felt overcome with despair, trying to catch his breath. He attempts to speak, but instead pukes on one of the girl's shoes.
"Gross!"
Rob grabs a hold of the other girl's ankle, looking up into her face all wide-eyed and sick with fear.
"Drugs are bad," he gasps.
The girls run off towards the direction Rob came from.
"You'll never make it! It's ALIVE! The path is ALIVE I tell you," Rob preached.
He was stunned in a moment of ecstasy then. As he looked forward, he could see that hot alien chick from the James Cameron movie, Avatar, blasphemously eating a banana. 'Lickity-split', Rob thought. He started to walk towards her.
"Hey...hey baby. That's an awful nice looking banana you got there. You want to touch tails? I mean, I don't really have a tail, but I got a-"
Before Rob could finish, she took off like a bat out of hell.
"Wait! We could start off slow with a game of Jenga," Rob tried to explain, but to no avail. He had run out of breath and his head was swimming with freaky sexual thoughts with a woman of fantasy. Literally.
Rob took a second to gain his composure. Taking deep breaths in and out he started to click his heels together saying, "There's no place like Rome...home. No place like home. No place like...home."
A family stands watching Rob from a distance. The mother and father watch with their jaws drooped in shock, as their two little girls giggle and point. They'd been watching Rob for about ten minutes, standing in front of a tree clicking his heels together saying some of the weirdest shit they've EVER heard in their lives.
Absentmindedly, one of the little girls throws a good sized rock at Rob, hitting him square in the temple.
Rob falls to the dirt in great pain, his head feeling as if someone were banging one of those pinballs around inside, running up the score. As Rob comes back to reality, he see's the family and also see's that he's wearing no pants. Or underwear for that matter.
"Sorry. Was on my way to do laundry, you know..." And with that, Rob runs away down the path he knew would lead him to his next adventure. He sure as hell had outstayed his welcome, he thought.
He reaches the highway, sticking his thumb out for a ride; barely covering his crotch with part of a bush he ripped out of the ground. A small yellow school bus pulls over for Rob, with a sign reading, "Humbridge Unified School District."
Rob approaches the bus, coming up to the door. It swings open, revealing one really fat hairy man sporting a Hitler mustache in an orange jumpsuit. The man smiles wide, revealing what's left of his stained teeth. Rob considers a moment, and reluctantly hops aboard with a saying he's not sure he's ever used before:
"Hey-ho, let's go."
To be continued...
Fiddlin' Rob Gives Thanks on "Black Friday"
He shakes it off and keeps walking.
The earth below Rob felt hard, but he felt weak. The noises of numerous critters branch out from the underbrush alongside the path. The colors of nature around Rob dubiously sway and pulsate, especially when he briefly focuses on one area.
Rob walked on for what felt like an hour, but still had not come to the highway. He was starting to get...petrified. The drugs were REALLY kicking in now.
And Rob had that song stuck in his head, "It's a small world after all." He wished death and many misfortunes to those crazy bastards that ever started the song. He kept thinking that the world definitely isn't small, and that if it were, there wouldn't be six fucking billion people on it (after all).
As the path began to stir too much, Rob collapses to his knees. Blurred objects crisscross his line of sight, and the song in his head was driving him to the brink. He closed his eyes and blurted out what was on his mind:
"It's a fucking BIG world! It is! Those kids suck and they're stupid! I should mindfully fuck them with an overused expression!"
Rob then opens his eyes to see two little girls about the same height. For all he knew, they were twins. He suddenly felt overcome with despair, trying to catch his breath. He attempts to speak, but instead pukes on one of the girl's shoes.
"Gross!"
Rob grabs a hold of the other girl's ankle, looking up into her face all wide-eyed and sick with fear.
"Drugs are bad," he gasps.
The girls run off towards the direction Rob came from.
"You'll never make it! It's ALIVE! The path is ALIVE I tell you," Rob preached.
He was stunned in a moment of ecstasy then. As he looked forward, he could see that hot alien chick from the James Cameron movie, Avatar, blasphemously eating a banana. 'Lickity-split', Rob thought. He started to walk towards her.
"Hey...hey baby. That's an awful nice looking banana you got there. You want to touch tails? I mean, I don't really have a tail, but I got a-"
Before Rob could finish, she took off like a bat out of hell.
"Wait! We could start off slow with a game of Jenga," Rob tried to explain, but to no avail. He had run out of breath and his head was swimming with freaky sexual thoughts with a woman of fantasy. Literally.
Rob took a second to gain his composure. Taking deep breaths in and out he started to click his heels together saying, "There's no place like Rome...home. No place like home. No place like...home."
A family stands watching Rob from a distance. The mother and father watch with their jaws drooped in shock, as their two little girls giggle and point. They'd been watching Rob for about ten minutes, standing in front of a tree clicking his heels together saying some of the weirdest shit they've EVER heard in their lives.
Absentmindedly, one of the little girls throws a good sized rock at Rob, hitting him square in the temple.
Rob falls to the dirt in great pain, his head feeling as if someone were banging one of those pinballs around inside, running up the score. As Rob comes back to reality, he see's the family and also see's that he's wearing no pants. Or underwear for that matter.
"Sorry. Was on my way to do laundry, you know..." And with that, Rob runs away down the path he knew would lead him to his next adventure. He sure as hell had outstayed his welcome, he thought.
He reaches the highway, sticking his thumb out for a ride; barely covering his crotch with part of a bush he ripped out of the ground. A small yellow school bus pulls over for Rob, with a sign reading, "Humbridge Unified School District."
Rob approaches the bus, coming up to the door. It swings open, revealing one really fat hairy man sporting a Hitler mustache in an orange jumpsuit. The man smiles wide, revealing what's left of his stained teeth. Rob considers a moment, and reluctantly hops aboard with a saying he's not sure he's ever used before:
"Hey-ho, let's go."
To be continued...
Fiddlin' Rob Gives Thanks on "Black Friday"
Monday, June 27, 2011
A Blockbuster Night
An obese elderly woman in the video store wanted me to recommend a couple of ‘funny movies’. I pointed out Zombieland and Grandmas Boy. movies I had just enjoyed at my ex-girlfriends residence a few days earlier (after masturbating in the kitchen sink).
I had ventured to her place to retrieve my belongings; my laminated foreskin and a bootleg copy of Star Trek Genesis.
Anyways, this woman at the store asks the clerk up front, “I want to know if any of these movies make SENSE? I don’t like watching movies that don’t make sense.”
That had to be one of the dumbest things I’ve EVER heard. A movie called Zombieland she figures might not make sense? When did she jump to conclusions?
What was funny about this is that the clerk replied, “Well, Zombieland is a simple concept..zombies try and take over the world, people try to survive and such. While Grandma’s Boy is a litter harder to follow. Bunch of geeks smoke weed and screw Grandma while forcing her to play connect four.”
To which the woman replied, “Sounds like a dike film.”
I didn’t even know where to start. I felt terrified, alone, cold but oh so warm and relieved. I had pissed myself. Not intentionally..this was NOT pre-meditated like Janet Jackson’s boob fondling by that backstreet boy at the grammy’s.
I was forced to act quickly; I ran out of the store with Office Space and the only copy of Sex and the City. What I had just seen was a bit scary with the drugs inside me.
That was my first and last dance chugging a liter of codeine cough syrup and smoking a blunt of hash before mingling in a video store. Jamarcus Russell would have been proud.
Disturbed and high as shit...I flowered my ex-girlfriend’s bed with silly string and milk chocolates. Except it wasn’t silly string and chocolates.
It was a little bit of me..all over her favorite dvd, Sex and the City. Happy anniversary.
I had ventured to her place to retrieve my belongings; my laminated foreskin and a bootleg copy of Star Trek Genesis.
Anyways, this woman at the store asks the clerk up front, “I want to know if any of these movies make SENSE? I don’t like watching movies that don’t make sense.”
That had to be one of the dumbest things I’ve EVER heard. A movie called Zombieland she figures might not make sense? When did she jump to conclusions?
What was funny about this is that the clerk replied, “Well, Zombieland is a simple concept..zombies try and take over the world, people try to survive and such. While Grandma’s Boy is a litter harder to follow. Bunch of geeks smoke weed and screw Grandma while forcing her to play connect four.”
To which the woman replied, “Sounds like a dike film.”
I didn’t even know where to start. I felt terrified, alone, cold but oh so warm and relieved. I had pissed myself. Not intentionally..this was NOT pre-meditated like Janet Jackson’s boob fondling by that backstreet boy at the grammy’s.
I was forced to act quickly; I ran out of the store with Office Space and the only copy of Sex and the City. What I had just seen was a bit scary with the drugs inside me.
That was my first and last dance chugging a liter of codeine cough syrup and smoking a blunt of hash before mingling in a video store. Jamarcus Russell would have been proud.
Disturbed and high as shit...I flowered my ex-girlfriend’s bed with silly string and milk chocolates. Except it wasn’t silly string and chocolates.
It was a little bit of me..all over her favorite dvd, Sex and the City. Happy anniversary.
Revenge For the Queen
Jamie was a sharp, young convincing man in need of a reasonable pull. Nasty, disturbing, preposterous thoughts and habits were all Jamie knew ever since he was a child.
When he was five, his father Arnold generally crowed about woman's breasts and how they ought to use them should a prickly situation arise. Could be a hostage situation, for example. Arnold knew it in his bones that if he was blessed with breasts not only would he find a way to have fun, he could find a way to negotiate practically through every situation that should arise.
Arnold would also preach how women over time can lure you in by being a bitch; and if they were a bitch to start out with, they’ll probably still be a bitch after a fifth of vodka.
From all his father’s teachings Jamie had learned better. Learned better than to keep his thoughts to himself just like his father. Even though he never quite understood his father’s methods thoroughly, he was under the impression that if he could be an ass to some people, he would. It was funny.
If a hard working woman had a nappy crotch, he would feel compelled to give her a little of his mind.
“Perhaps a brillo pad,” he would say to Ms. Johoblow, the Safeway janitor Monday through Friday. He wasn’t suggesting scrubbing a bathroom. After she forcefully inserted his finger into her vagina twice (although he never really put any effort into stopping her), he figured it be OK to give her some constructive criticism about the bathroom rapes.
On Saturday, he would stalk the principal of a nearby Elementary school, Ms. Gooch. She is a stupid, stupid woman. She tends to slip-up when it comes to Jamie. Gooch leaves her driver’s side window rolled down each Monday out of habit.
Jamie would delicately squeeze an unadulterated piece of ‘poop’ through her window each Monday, also out of habit. For being a former teacher, and the head of an entire school full with little children, she sure was an absent-minded person to let some random dude shit through her driver’s side window in the faculty parking lot on a weekly basis.
Jamie could not figure why even after two months, she still left just enough of an air pocket (an inch) for him to squeeze one through with his fingers if needed. For him to stop (she had caught him running away a couple times) his demands were simple:
The deal was, she would have to wiggle his wrench. Then let him gracefully dispose of his ‘mushy pork’ in her ear while she enthusiastically shouts “Another one bites the dust, HEY!” Queen for ‘Queen’
Fortunately for Jamie, Ms. Gooch finally gave in to his demands. That night, they rode back to her apartment to settle things once and for all. Jamie was filled with perspiration; so much that he peed just a little every time they came to a stop sign.
Her apartment was amazing to Jamie. Carrot top and Richards Simmons posters flooded the walls.
Gooch first broke the silence. “So unzip your pants and let’s do this thing.”
This would be easy for Jamie. The posters made it so motivationally right.
The time had finally come; the same time Jamie thought should have come after shitting through Gooch’s car in front of elementary kids every week. He thought about how he never agreed to stop doing any of this, and laughs to himself.
Almost instantly after recalling his fun times with Gooch, she grabs his stick violently with her left hand. From behind her desk (near the front door they came in) she reveals a hedge trimmer.
Jamie couldn’t help but say, "Is this how you make bastard children?"
When he was five, his father Arnold generally crowed about woman's breasts and how they ought to use them should a prickly situation arise. Could be a hostage situation, for example. Arnold knew it in his bones that if he was blessed with breasts not only would he find a way to have fun, he could find a way to negotiate practically through every situation that should arise.
Arnold would also preach how women over time can lure you in by being a bitch; and if they were a bitch to start out with, they’ll probably still be a bitch after a fifth of vodka.
From all his father’s teachings Jamie had learned better. Learned better than to keep his thoughts to himself just like his father. Even though he never quite understood his father’s methods thoroughly, he was under the impression that if he could be an ass to some people, he would. It was funny.
If a hard working woman had a nappy crotch, he would feel compelled to give her a little of his mind.
“Perhaps a brillo pad,” he would say to Ms. Johoblow, the Safeway janitor Monday through Friday. He wasn’t suggesting scrubbing a bathroom. After she forcefully inserted his finger into her vagina twice (although he never really put any effort into stopping her), he figured it be OK to give her some constructive criticism about the bathroom rapes.
On Saturday, he would stalk the principal of a nearby Elementary school, Ms. Gooch. She is a stupid, stupid woman. She tends to slip-up when it comes to Jamie. Gooch leaves her driver’s side window rolled down each Monday out of habit.
Jamie would delicately squeeze an unadulterated piece of ‘poop’ through her window each Monday, also out of habit. For being a former teacher, and the head of an entire school full with little children, she sure was an absent-minded person to let some random dude shit through her driver’s side window in the faculty parking lot on a weekly basis.
Jamie could not figure why even after two months, she still left just enough of an air pocket (an inch) for him to squeeze one through with his fingers if needed. For him to stop (she had caught him running away a couple times) his demands were simple:
The deal was, she would have to wiggle his wrench. Then let him gracefully dispose of his ‘mushy pork’ in her ear while she enthusiastically shouts “Another one bites the dust, HEY!” Queen for ‘Queen’
Fortunately for Jamie, Ms. Gooch finally gave in to his demands. That night, they rode back to her apartment to settle things once and for all. Jamie was filled with perspiration; so much that he peed just a little every time they came to a stop sign.
Her apartment was amazing to Jamie. Carrot top and Richards Simmons posters flooded the walls.
Gooch first broke the silence. “So unzip your pants and let’s do this thing.”
This would be easy for Jamie. The posters made it so motivationally right.
The time had finally come; the same time Jamie thought should have come after shitting through Gooch’s car in front of elementary kids every week. He thought about how he never agreed to stop doing any of this, and laughs to himself.
Almost instantly after recalling his fun times with Gooch, she grabs his stick violently with her left hand. From behind her desk (near the front door they came in) she reveals a hedge trimmer.
Jamie couldn’t help but say, "Is this how you make bastard children?"
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Fiddlin Rob Steals a Pooch Doggy
It was Valentine’s Day. Feb. 14th, 2011 when it all happened.
Rob had stolen a precious subject very dear to someone, who recently was the victim of a bad breakup.
And it wasn’t exactly a ‘clean’ one.
Rob had gone overboard by a large margin here with Natalia. He had stolen a pooch doggy from her, and he had also absurdly decided to cover her face in Crisco during their encounter. Just for ‘good measure’ – as he would say.
Performing this act on Mission Street in San Francisco isn’t exactly conspicuous on a Monday morning. But Rob has no limits, which is why he is now in this dilemma.
On the run for his life, with a pooch dog he didn’t care one shit for…he felt like a half-breed cooler version of Jack Kerouac.
Which leads to the question: How DID we get here with Fiddlin’ Rob?
FOUR MINUTES EARLIER
Huge amounts of people filled the streets of San Francisco. Rob was among these hundreds of moving crowds, minding his own business like it was any other Monday.
He carried with him a used chocolate snow cone, a bottle of sparkled water and a bag of double-sided dildos.
When on duty, things can get fairly hectic for Rob. Acting as his OWN private investigator, he reaches and goes way out of bounds on things. Lots, of things.
Like trying to arrest a cop for throwing away half his apple fritter.
Holding up a wiener stand with a super soaker for a hot dog.
Stomping a child’s McDonald's meal for bad directions to a nearby adult bookstore.
Or hiding in Nursery homes just before dawn, jerking it at granny's bedside singing, "Who stole the cookie from the cook-ee jar?"
Today things were not exactly normal though; things were strangely peculiar for Rob. He was literally stealing items from random people all morning. He had actual shit in his hand to prove it.
After being fired and charged as a sex-offender three months ago, Rob has taken the liberty of starting a non-formal investigation into San Francisco’s ‘bad people’.
For instance, random people on the streets that just piss him off. If Rob sees someone cutting off an unfortunate someone, or speaking loudly on a phone, or just looking like an asshole…he makes sure he does something about it.
Walking along Mission street today, he saw a distraught-looking woman shaking her pooch doggy.
To Rob, it looked like a crazy bitch angrily shaking a newborn baby. That would be his reason to attack her with a double-dong in public.
From where he was currently standing, it would take about a minute to get to her. She was under some amount of stress – or just PO’d for some stupid reason (maybe peeing on her hand in the bathroom), Rob thought.
Rob liked to think of himself as the guy who slapped sense back into the ‘bad people’ that stepped out of line. He was another superhero, except he wasn’t carrying a gun or a sword, or a whip. Not even a magical ring.
He was just Fiddlin’ Rob, once again on the job; taking out a double-sided dildo as he crossed the intersection. It jiggled to his strut.
By now the woman at the corner had started to move. Luckily for Rob though, she was moving towards him. Meaning – as long as she was preoccupied pissing and moaning at her pooch, he would have the element of surprise.
He just hoped at this point the rainbow colors of the dong wouldn’t catch her eye once he got within twenty yards.
He would have to move fast.
As he bridged the gap between them, he started to lightly jog.
As Rob approached, he started swinging the dong in a circular motion, bracing for combat.
Natalia was not paying attention. Until the last second, she didn’t notice a man wearing nothing but cross-country shorts and a leather jacket jogging towards her. The madman was wildy swinging the biggest God-damned dildo she had ever seen in her life, and he was staring into her soul.
She screamed, but it was too late. Rob struck the tip of the dong to her forehead, and she fell backwards.
When she hit the ground, the pooch came loose of her grip, including her bag. Absurdly, a tub of Crisco slid and stopped just at Rob’s heels.
Rob had to act quickly. He scooped up the Crisco, lifted the lid and took out as much as he could with one fist and directly hit Natalia right in the face with a huge wad of it.
“Stop shaking your dog like it’s an 8-ball bitch! You have been relieved of this poor creature,” Rob explained.
And with that, he grabbed the pooch by its fur, turned on his heel and retreated in the direction he had come bursting from. Natalia mustered up all her strength to yell to the public for help.
“Help! That bastard stole my pooch!”
PRESENT TIME
On the run for his life, Rob quickly hurled himself into an alley. Luckily for him, the pooch broke most of his fall. He would have to lay low for a while.
The minutes slowly began to jerk away from Rob as he pulled out his miniature pipe, and inhaled that green smoke pondering his next move. He had pissed himself in excitement and had a shit-colored shirt thanks to the pooch.
Besides that, everything just might be OK today for Rob. Until next time -
Fiddlin Rob Goes Hiking
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