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...
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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.."
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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.
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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...
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