The (Sad) Life and Times of Butch McBadass
Butch sat on his fat ass in his huge chair in his tiny room in his tiny house as he always did at 4:15 a.m. He sat in the dark, just sitting and thinking, thinking and sitting. If it weren't so fucking dark you might be able to see. And if you could see, you would see that Butch was one fat fuck. You would also see that Butch had really bad acne, a bulbous head, and greasy black hair all over his person. You know, kinda like those grubby kids that sit in the corner of the lunch room and make way too much noise for you to be able to keep the rancid school food down.
So anyway, there Butch sat. Yep, he was sitting all right. You would think he'd be alseep at 4:15 a.m. like any normal person, but no, not Butch. So he just kind of sat there, just like he did every single fucking morning of his miserable fucking life. Only this morning, unknown to Butch, would be different. Like no other morning Butch had ever experienced. It would change the course of Butch's life for the better, dragging him out of the wallowing pit he drooled in and turning him into a respectable member of the community. Or at least it would have if a robber hadn't just broken into Butch's tiny house and seen him sitting there and then blown his fat fucking head off. Damn. It sure sucks to be Butch. He could've been rich.
THE END..... (for Butch, at least....)