| Colebot: We were too lazy to bother with a picture of Danny-Boy brandishing his sword, so here's a Yahoo GIF I picked at random. Kinda looks like him, though. |
| (muffled from being on the other side of the door and quiet) "DJ, wake up!" "Uhhh...What? What?" "There's someone on our floor!" "What?" (louder) "There's someone on our floor!" "The f*ck do you mean, 'there's someone on our floor?'" "I mean there's someone on our floor!" "...Just a second." So, I get dressed and come out of my room. Danny-Boy is standing there BRANDISHING HIS F*CKING PAWN SHOP SWORD. I'm a bit confused anyway, and was planning on getting up three hours from then to go pick up our other roommate (Colebot) from the bus stop. "Danny, what the f*ck?" "Dude, in there." I walk over to the kitchen/living room area. "I heard him scratching around. He tore down my Willow poster. I came out and found him pissing on the table. I thought it was either you or Colebot." "...Thanks." Lying on the floor, is a guy about our age. He's casually dressed. He's snoring. He does not belong here. On the table, a few papers are wet. The dickhead is lucky he didn't piss directly on the power box for my laptop. "His friends just dropped him off. Dude, what do we do?" "Just...Gimme a sec...The door was unlocked?" "Yeah." "F*ck, Danny!" "Well..." I examine our guest. He's no one I know. Has the word, "COCKSUCKER" written across his forehead in black magic marker. His face has a drawn-on goatee and Hitler mustache. There are extra drawn-on zig-zag lines on his arms. On his neck, the words, "Insert Cock Here" are drawn with an arrow pointing up at his ear. "This is f*cked-up, man...Hi, there." *pile on floor opens eyes, nods* "You do realize that this isn't your home, right?" *looks around, at me, at Danny, looks around some more, nods* "All right. I'm DJEvil, this is Danny-Boy, and you're...Cocksucker?" *nods weakly, we shake hands* "So, were you drugged, or did you do get this way on your own?" *points to his chest* "Right. Ah, ok. Here's the deal, Cocksucker: We're good, wholesome Christians, and you're in the house of the Lord, so we're gonna do some nice Christian things. We're gonna let you sleep here a while, cause that's what God wants us to do. K?" *faintly nods* "You do realize that you pissed on our table, right?" *meekly nods* "Ok...Can I get you some Cherry Coke?" *nods* "Ok...Here ya go. Some Whoppers, a nutri-grain bar?" *shakes head* "Okie-doke...Shit, now that I'm up...Wanna play some Playstation?" *shakes head* "You even from this apartment complex?" *nods* "Alright. Go back to sleep, Cocksucker." I turn to Danny-Boy. "Dude, we're gonna let him stay there?" *shrug* "What, you wanna carry him out?...That's what I thought. What's the harm?" I begin to clean up the mess. I realize that I will have to call and see what we can do about getting the carpet cleaned in the morning. "Dude, make him clean that up." "Does he look like he's gonna clean it up? The guy probably can't even stand." "I came in and he was bent over the table. I thought it was you jacking off to your computer." "Thanks, Dan." So, I sit here, typing this. Danny is playing Einhander for the Playstation, Cocksucker is snoring like a chainsaw, our roomate is due in town in the next four hours or so, and there is piss on the floor. And Cocksucker knocked over his drink, too. F*ckin Florida, man. I'd hate it if it weren't so damned funny. |
| Episode I: "The Carpet Pisser*" *names changed to internet aliases to protect the goofy |
| For those of you who skim through stories because they aren't your thing, I present the same story in a shorter format: through the use of the haiku. *ahem* Three in the morning I hear knocking at my door What is it, damn you "Someone's on our floor They're passed out; Wake up, I'm scared" What the hell's hap'nin I check out the scene Roomate's got his sword ready For unknown bandits Wet kitchen carpet There lies someone I don't know Snoring like a log I look for meaning Alas, there is none at all The door was unlocked Shit-faced boy enters Pisses on kitchen table Passes the f*ck out I ask if he's lost Why does he refuse to speak Is he too drunk? perhaps Writing on forehead Labeled, "Cocksucker;" funny Plus Hitler mustache He must have great friends To label him so clearly I'd kill them for that I almost feel bad Does he know he lies in piss I will not tell him The End |
| Look at her. You don't deserve to live on the same planet as her. You don't deserve to breathe air like she does. All the same, if she was here, I bet she'd say, "Click here to go to the main page, baby." "Click here to go to 'The EIF In Florida Page,' baby." |
 |
| A lazy artist's conception of the perp: |
 |
| This is what Cocksucker had to wake up to. |
 |