Oh, shit... (838 hits)
Category: HumorRating: 1.14 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Dirk Diggler (View user info) at 2007-11-21 18:59:29 EST
I'm a sentimentalist.
I'm a simple man who enjoys the simpler things of life. From watching old Judy Garland movies on weekend television to the sight of young women being stuffed in every possible orifice. When it comes to religion I'd rather it be left ambigious and not have to ask too many questions. I'm sure there's an all powerful overlord controlling our actions, I'm just not sure whether he's a long haired hippie in a white robe or a thin, emaciated grey skinned freak with a huge head and black beading eyes. But I digress...
After spending all my Uni years eating nothing but fast food I've taken it upon myself to try and get myself into some sort of shape. Hopefully the end result will be something that is appealing to the opposite sex, ideally. Let it be known, I'm not an overtly out of shape person, I'm the type of person you see whose muscle mass seems to be nothing more than tissue clinging to bone. I'm actually relatively thin it's just I've got no form, no shape. And as we know, that makes you look lazy and weak. It's true I spend most nights after work sitting on the computer juggling youtube, facebook and myspace. Browsing the oddities of the Internet ranging from anything like Shemale porn to Hentai. Regardless, I don't need to broadcast that fact through the deformity that is my body.
So, my new mantra is "First you get the joggers, then you do the running, then you get the cannons, then you get the women." Simple enough? Good, then let's get right to the point.
I live in one of those classic neighbourhood streets. The street with the old lady who spends all day in the garden, the street with the crazy old recluse who only leaves the house to put the garbage out, the street with the little kids who play cricket, soccer or whatever the current trend is, right in the middle of the street. It's also home to the classic neighbourhood cunt. Every neighbourhood has one. He's the crazy bum. The person who dresses like he's homeless and leaves trash, mail and whatever else he can't be bothered to pick up laying strewn across his lawn. His lawn hasn't been cut for a decade and there's trees and vines that have been there so long they've become self aware.
This cunt, who shall be referred to as Bob for the remainder of the story, has a dog. I can remember when he first got the thing and I can recall feeling pity for it, knowing that the poor mutt had a lifetime of being underneath the hairiest, most foul mannered bastard in the suburb, and most likely the entire state. There's a saying that "there's no such thing as a bad dog, just a bad owner" and that is absolutely true. In a lot of ways it's like having a child. If a child is raised the right way he might grow up to become a great man (I say great man because we all know there's no such thing as great women, only whores). If he's brought up the wrong way he might become a gang banger or a democrat candidate. It's the exact same thing with dogs. And because Bob took the same approach to raising his dog as he did tending to his own personal needs, the thing grew up to be a grumpy, whiney nutcase, just like Bob.
Let me put things into perspective here. A while ago there was a tree in Bob's backyard that was leaning over into our yard and tearing our fence down. We had to get the thing cut down unless we were both going to be fined by the council. You think Bob was going to pay the costs? So, my parents gave me the dubious honor of going do Bob's yard and photographing the tree so we could get it sent to the tree cutters and get a quote, or something. Apparently they need to see how thick the stump is or some shit and need photographic evidence. I think in reality they knew about Bob and wanted me to do their fucking dirtywork.
So I've walked up to his house and the first thing which hit me was how much his verandah smelt like piss. It was so empowering. I felt like I was going to throw up. I knocked on the door and it nearly fell off. He flung the thing open wearing nothing but a shit stained pair of underpants and a dirty brown singlet which looked like he'd eaten off it since 1973. He had a dirty brown pair of socks that had more holes than Swiss cheese and a watch that was so filthy, you couldn't even see the hands.
"What do you want?"
"I'm here to photograph the tree."
"What the fuck for?"
I shrugged my shoulders. I couldn't be arsed trying to argue with the guy. He spat on the floor. Yes, he spat on his own floor and motioned for me to come in. We walked through his house and I turned around and looked at the sunlight for which I thought was going to be the last time, and we entered into the world of Bob. I'll never forget the first thing I saw. In the hallway was about a dozen garbage bags, all leaking some sort of liquid from the bottom, which left a small pool of some mysterious shit substance all over the rotted wooden floor. In the living room was a fort of takeaway containers, bottles, wrappers and what appeared to be tissues. Finally we reached the backyard. It looked like a graveyard for computer monitors. There was literally 30 or so monitors scattered around the yard.
"Why do you have so many computer monitors?"
"My brother's a computer salesman, he gives me them for free."
Computer monitors without computers...riiight. Before we got to the tree, which had a trunk the size of a bloated Hummer, I noticed his dog sitting in the corner. It immediately started barking at me and reared up as if it was going to attack me. It lunged at me and then get bungee snapped back by a metal chain that was tied to its neck. I literally jumped back, scared shitless by this lovable mutt that seemed intent to rip my throat apart. The chain looked strong, but flimsy compared to the size of the dog. I'm not sure what breed it was. It seemed to be a mix of everything between Bull Terrier and Liquid Nitrogen.
"He doesn't like you."
"Do you two have the death sentence on twelve systems?"
"What?!"
Bad Star Wars joke. He looked like he was going to garrote me, but just stood there whilst I photographed the tree. I'm actually a professional photographer but this was the quickest and shittest job I've ever done. So I got it done and got the fuck out of there, and let us never speak of that again. Oh, and it's now four years later and the tree is still there. Bob is gone though, if that's any consolation.
Oh, shit, look how far off the plot I am. Moving back to the topic at hand. So, I've become a fit man. Running almost nightly. I usually go down to the beach, watch all the attractive women with perky breasts run by then pick one and jog behind her, watching her butt jiggle as she runs. If she latches on to what I'm doing I just run off and get a new one. So, it had been a long night of jogging and I decided to return home as my legs were burning and there was a strange itching sensation in my nuts that felt like someone had put a shitload of sand down there. I decided to take a shortcut, through the street where Bob's house was. It was fairly dark but I could make out the distinct shape of something walking through the street. I stopped dead in my tracks. It was Bob's fucking dog, dragging a snapped metal leash behind it. It looked at me and started growling. I immediately thought of that movie Signs. You know, where it ends up that we do everything for a reason. This was the reason I thought. I had felt compelled to excercise for the day this event was going to transpire. This dog was going to maul me to death, but due to me heightened fitness, I'd be able to evade it.
The dog leapt at me, full speed and I immediately dashed for the nearest fence. I was wrong, I couldn't outrun it and the thing started biting at my ankles. It hurt, but not as much as I expected. I ran through what I thought was Bob's yard until I realized I the yard didn't have computer monitors. I leapt over a picket fence and back onto another street. Where the hell was I? I felt like I was out of the ending scene from Sandlot kids, where the dog is chasing the kid through the town. But I knew if he caught me he'd either mount me or just rip me to shreds. I saw the school yard ahead and ran for it. The dog was still behind me but not that close anymore. I ran over the metal mesh fence and turned around. The dog was still after me and it looked like it was frothing at the mouth. I was scared to death and my heart was pulsing like a jackhammer.
The dog left over the fence and in slow motion I saw it as the chain leash it was dragging latched onto the fence. The dog didn't notice this obviously, caught up in the malicious act of trying to murder me. SNAP. Bob's dog hit the ground with a thud and it's head did a 180 and hit the asphalt with a loud crack. It wasn't moving and if it wasn't dead it was definitely knocked the fuck out. I motioned towards it, expecting it to jump up with a final scream like at the end of so many shitty horror movies. But it didn't move. As I got closer I noticed it was swarming with fleas and half of it's fur/skin seemed to be rotting. It looked like the zombie dog from Resident Evil. What could I possibly do? Who would honestly believe that set of events was likely to transpire? So I left it. I went home and masturbated to an Asian women being stuffed by a group of black men with 13 inch penis's and let it get out of my mind.
We never heard from Bob again and the dog wasn't registered and because it was so beaten up people assumed it was a stray or a feral dog and didn't give a flying fuck. The thing was put in the waste basket and forgotten. Bob left the home soon after and it was taken up by a bunch of different squatters who all decided they'd rather sleep on the street. That says alot doesn't it?
So what's the moral of this story? Human's can't outrun a dog, Some people will never, never change and if you're going to masturbate to internet porn, use a waterbased lubricant and NEVER use shampoo as a substitute.
Oh, shit, my heart rate is dropping. Better get back to it.
Attached is a picture of an electric razor I recently bought. It's great for sensitive skin, is lightweight and ergonomic. It has an 8 hour charge and comes with a lovely plastic stand. I can highly reccomend this purchase!
User Reviews
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-11-25 13:03:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by triangle_man (user info) at 2007-11-23 13:03:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2007-11-22 05:17:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i dont know what post this was.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2007-11-21 22:06:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
FUCK YOU, D-SQUARED!!!!! WTF I'm not readin' all THAT!!!
<Ididanditwaskool>
<dipstick>
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-11-21 21:29:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Dirk Diggler (View user info) at 2007-11-21 18:59:29 EST
...if you're going to masturbate to internet porn, use a waterbased lubricant and NEVER use shampoo as a substitute.
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All over the world, two-pump chumps are now saying: Wow!, maybe that's the problem?
Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2007-11-21 20:47:45 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
I thought this was new, but I already read it. I'm too not-sober to not be angry, that's just the way it is, man.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-11-21 20:28:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I loved it. I laughed out loud.
Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2007-11-21 19:26:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Oh, shit, look how far off the plot I am.
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I stopped reading at that point. I was about to get angry and -2 you, probably for no good reason.
Anyways, you write ok, Bob seems way cooler than you. I appreciate a person that manages to work hard enough to get into the same neighborhood as "professional photographers", but remains crazy enough to freak them the fuck out.
That's it.
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-11-21 19:08:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Mildly entertaining.
You may live.