3/27
Dear Diary,
Today I laid my eyes on the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. She was the new girl in school and I could tell just by looking at her that we had nothing in common. She appeared wealthy, athletic, and a bit African American. Despite the fact that I’m middle class, over weight, and racist, I think I might be in love.
3/28
Dear Diary,
The new girl sat in the empty desk next to mine and I knew I had to pull out all of the moves. As she looked over in my direction I twirled my rat-tail with my finger while wildly winking at her. She immediately turned away, which made me think that my advances had failed. Then I noticed her nipples get hard. Mission accomplished.
3/29
Dear Diary,
At lunch I saw the new girl sitting alone at the corner table. I would have invited her to sit with me and my friends, but Tommy isn’t very friendly, and Mark is straight up in a wheelchair. To avoid them cramping my style, I ditched my entourage and made my way to her table. I thought a joke might break the ice, so I sat on her lap and said, “Hello Santa, I’d like a Christmas present!” I don’t know if it’s because she’s Jewish, and I don’t know if it’s because I farted on her lap, but she didn’t find it very funny. Instead she threw up on my pants.
3/30
Dear Diary,
I saw the new girl after school and offered to carry her books. She pointed to her backpack, most likely as a way of saying she could carry her own books, but I took it as an offer for her to carry mine, so I loaded them in. We started to walk and I tried my best to make conversation, but all of the words were coming out wrong. “Lovely weather we’re having,” sounded like, “Lovely weather we’re napping,” and “Do you like skiing?” sounded more like, “Pee on me.” When we got to her house I retrieved my books and leaned in for a kiss. Instead of smearing my hazelnut chap stick, she ran inside and locked the door. Third grade is such a confusing time.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
My Son J.T.
Every parent likes to think their child is special, and they take every opportunity to brag about it to the world. It’s evident by the millions of cars sporting bumper stickers that read, "My Child is an Honor Student", or "My Child is a Mensch."
Out of all of the world's bumper stickers, there’s only one that reads, "My Child is the Second Coming of Christ". I know this because I made it myself. That bumper sticker is on my car. That child is my son, J.T.
When my girlfriend revealed to me that she was pregnant, I was shocked to say the least. We were both waiting to lose our virginities on our wedding night, so it didn’t make any sense how this could have happened.
I began to suspect an act of adultery, but before I could even finish the thought, she explained everything. I remember her exact words:
“No, it wasn’t another guy! It was…um…an angel! Yeah, that’s right! An angel! An angel came to me in a dream, and he said that I was gonna have a baby! God’s baby! The angel said I would become pregnant with the son of the Lord!”
It was just like a monologue from a Shakespearean play.
We got married, and a few months later our little miracle was born. My wife insisted on giving him a standard name, but how could anyone worship a Ricky or a Kevin? It was only appropriate that he be named Jesus Two, or J.T. for short.
J.T. seemed like an average child, maybe even a little below average, but I knew that there was a savior inside him just waiting to get out.
On his tenth birthday, I told him all about his real father and his destiny. It was time for his training to begin.
Our first stop was the lake. I never bothered signing J.T. up for swimming lessons, cause what was the point? He was gonna walk all over that shit.
Just like a mother bird pushing her babies from the nest and forcing them to fly, I pushed J.T. into the lake as hard as I could. To my surprise, he sank right to the bottom. I began to wonder if maybe it had something to do with his footwear. After all, Jesus wore sandals, not Crocs. Then I remembered my boy was drowning, so I dove in and fished him out. After about a dozen failed attempts we decided to call it a day.
As time went on, J.T. showed very little improvement with his miracles.
When J.T. tried to cure a blind man, the man said he felt a little blinder. When he attempted to turn water into wine, the water just became Coke Zero.
Despite these disappointments, there have been some redeeming qualities to raising J.T. For example, I learned a lot about my religion. I learned that Joseph deserves more credit, because he is responsible for raising Jesus into the Lord and Savior. I learned that no one is perfect, and if the Son of God isn’t perfect, then maybe God isn’t either. That would explain retards. Above all, I learned that my image of God was completely wrong. He is not a large white man with a big white beard and a long white robe. He’s a black guy.
So next time you’re driving on the highway, look out for the olive green station wagon with the "My Child is the Second Coming of Christ" bumper sticker. Just remember to drive a little more cautiously. There’s a savior on board.
Out of all of the world's bumper stickers, there’s only one that reads, "My Child is the Second Coming of Christ". I know this because I made it myself. That bumper sticker is on my car. That child is my son, J.T.
When my girlfriend revealed to me that she was pregnant, I was shocked to say the least. We were both waiting to lose our virginities on our wedding night, so it didn’t make any sense how this could have happened.
I began to suspect an act of adultery, but before I could even finish the thought, she explained everything. I remember her exact words:
“No, it wasn’t another guy! It was…um…an angel! Yeah, that’s right! An angel! An angel came to me in a dream, and he said that I was gonna have a baby! God’s baby! The angel said I would become pregnant with the son of the Lord!”
It was just like a monologue from a Shakespearean play.
We got married, and a few months later our little miracle was born. My wife insisted on giving him a standard name, but how could anyone worship a Ricky or a Kevin? It was only appropriate that he be named Jesus Two, or J.T. for short.
J.T. seemed like an average child, maybe even a little below average, but I knew that there was a savior inside him just waiting to get out.
On his tenth birthday, I told him all about his real father and his destiny. It was time for his training to begin.
Our first stop was the lake. I never bothered signing J.T. up for swimming lessons, cause what was the point? He was gonna walk all over that shit.
Just like a mother bird pushing her babies from the nest and forcing them to fly, I pushed J.T. into the lake as hard as I could. To my surprise, he sank right to the bottom. I began to wonder if maybe it had something to do with his footwear. After all, Jesus wore sandals, not Crocs. Then I remembered my boy was drowning, so I dove in and fished him out. After about a dozen failed attempts we decided to call it a day.
As time went on, J.T. showed very little improvement with his miracles.
When J.T. tried to cure a blind man, the man said he felt a little blinder. When he attempted to turn water into wine, the water just became Coke Zero.
Despite these disappointments, there have been some redeeming qualities to raising J.T. For example, I learned a lot about my religion. I learned that Joseph deserves more credit, because he is responsible for raising Jesus into the Lord and Savior. I learned that no one is perfect, and if the Son of God isn’t perfect, then maybe God isn’t either. That would explain retards. Above all, I learned that my image of God was completely wrong. He is not a large white man with a big white beard and a long white robe. He’s a black guy.
So next time you’re driving on the highway, look out for the olive green station wagon with the "My Child is the Second Coming of Christ" bumper sticker. Just remember to drive a little more cautiously. There’s a savior on board.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Erotica: Casual Encounter
She was woman looking for a Casual Encounter; I was a man looking to lose my virginity. We were a match made in heaven.
Around midnight there was a knock on the door and my heart began to race.
I took one final look in the mirror. My reflection was nothing more than a 37-year-old boy. By tomorrow morning, it would be the reflection of a man.
I opened the front door and there she stood; blonde, curvy, and riddled with osteoporosis.
She entered the living room and I helped her to remove her coat. I threw it on the floor and asked her if she would like a tour of the apartment.
"Just the bedroom," she said with a smile, revealing a mouth full of braces.
Jackpot.
We made our way into my room and wasted no time getting down to business. I'm talking serious hugging and kissing.
"You smell nice," she said. "What kind of cologne is that?"
"My mother's perfume," I cooed.
As we continued to fool around, my penis began to grow erect, which I assumed to be a miracle. It's been years since I've maintained an erection without the assistance of Viagra, but tonight I was swollen up like a carrot stick. (I later found out the swelling was due to an allergic reaction to a spider bite).
She slid her hands down to my waist, and I could tell by the look in her eye that she was pleased.
"Is that a cucumber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
I repositioned her hand from my cucumber to my penis.
"Can you feel its heart beat?" I whispered.
She could.
At this point I grew tired of foreplay. It was time to make a baby.
I watched her as she seductively removed her blouse, followed by her bra, revealing some boobs. They had nipples and everything. Just like in the pictures.
"Now it's your turn!"
I looked her dead in the eye and began to remove my mittens with my teeth. Once my hands were free, I began to unbutton my winter coat. Then came the sweatpants. That's all I was wearing.
She made her way to my bed and beckoned for me to join her. This was one invitation that I would be sure to RSVP for. Sexually...with my dick.
I laid beside her and we began rounding the bases, starting at first, and then slowly moving to second. The thought of baseball made me remember the classic Abbott and Costello routine,which caused me to burst out laughing. This seemed like a bit of a turn off for her.
After about five minutes I managed to calm myself down and wipe away my tears.
"So where were we?" I asked.
"Right about here," she said as she climbed on top of me. I don't need to go into details as to what happened next,but I assure you it was somewhere between three-and-a-half hours to eleven seconds of pure ecstasy.
When I awoke the next morning she was gone. I searched the apartment in hopes of finding her making me a sandwich, but all that remained was her scent. I never did see her again, but the night that we shared together was one that I will never forget. It almost made up for the fact that she robbed me.
Around midnight there was a knock on the door and my heart began to race.
I took one final look in the mirror. My reflection was nothing more than a 37-year-old boy. By tomorrow morning, it would be the reflection of a man.
I opened the front door and there she stood; blonde, curvy, and riddled with osteoporosis.
She entered the living room and I helped her to remove her coat. I threw it on the floor and asked her if she would like a tour of the apartment.
"Just the bedroom," she said with a smile, revealing a mouth full of braces.
Jackpot.
We made our way into my room and wasted no time getting down to business. I'm talking serious hugging and kissing.
"You smell nice," she said. "What kind of cologne is that?"
"My mother's perfume," I cooed.
As we continued to fool around, my penis began to grow erect, which I assumed to be a miracle. It's been years since I've maintained an erection without the assistance of Viagra, but tonight I was swollen up like a carrot stick. (I later found out the swelling was due to an allergic reaction to a spider bite).
She slid her hands down to my waist, and I could tell by the look in her eye that she was pleased.
"Is that a cucumber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
I repositioned her hand from my cucumber to my penis.
"Can you feel its heart beat?" I whispered.
She could.
At this point I grew tired of foreplay. It was time to make a baby.
I watched her as she seductively removed her blouse, followed by her bra, revealing some boobs. They had nipples and everything. Just like in the pictures.
"Now it's your turn!"
I looked her dead in the eye and began to remove my mittens with my teeth. Once my hands were free, I began to unbutton my winter coat. Then came the sweatpants. That's all I was wearing.
She made her way to my bed and beckoned for me to join her. This was one invitation that I would be sure to RSVP for. Sexually...with my dick.
I laid beside her and we began rounding the bases, starting at first, and then slowly moving to second. The thought of baseball made me remember the classic Abbott and Costello routine,which caused me to burst out laughing. This seemed like a bit of a turn off for her.
After about five minutes I managed to calm myself down and wipe away my tears.
"So where were we?" I asked.
"Right about here," she said as she climbed on top of me. I don't need to go into details as to what happened next,but I assure you it was somewhere between three-and-a-half hours to eleven seconds of pure ecstasy.
When I awoke the next morning she was gone. I searched the apartment in hopes of finding her making me a sandwich, but all that remained was her scent. I never did see her again, but the night that we shared together was one that I will never forget. It almost made up for the fact that she robbed me.
Picture Prompt #2: Bedtime Prayer
Every night before their beauty sleep, Timmy and Roscoe would kneel beside the bed and have a heart to heart with God.
As usual, Timmy prayed for an end to world hunger, health and happiness to his family and friends, and a shout out to Bob Marley.
By his side, his owner Roscoe prayed that God would smite his parents for giving him such a stupid fucking name.
Picture Prompt #1: Abandoned Car
Bradley and Kenneth were on their afternoon stroll through the country side when they stumbled upon a dilapidated automobile."Boy howdy!" cried Bradley in merriment. "Look at this hunk-a-junk! I bet we could fix it up into a real hot rod! Once the engine works we can paint it a nice bright red!"
"But Bradley," Kenneth sighed. "I'm a Crip."
"Blue!" cried Bradley. "I meant a bright blue!"
"It's too late. I'm sorry son."
As the gunshot echoed through the cool summer air, a family of bears feasted on the most delicious berries.
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