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Category Archives: Humor

Scum jong un

Jimmy McMillan + painting

Nicolas's beard

Nicolas luciano

 

 

(This was written at 2:00 AM on my iPhone. I must say I’m quite proud.)

My digital clock digitally strikes seven and my alarm begins to buzz,  sounding sort of like a rejected audio file from a mid 80’s arcade game. Begrudingly my eyes open and instantly they are assaulted by a blinding light. Making me feel like the prime suspect in a shitty crime drama. 

Then something remarkable happens, my pupils begin to dilate and my brain begins to function… I realize, it’s not that bright! I shake away the sunspots and scratch my unshaven scrotum (it’s been a while since I’ve participated in the horizontal happy dance with anything other then my softest sock. Why would I need to shave?)

After I am content with my Ape-like behavior I sit up and breath in the fresh air of a new day…

Then I remember, I still hate everything and all of a sudden the day seems significantly more depressing. 

I’m feeling morose again, I really do need to get laid.

I sigh and I bitch to myself in cafine depravity induced pesudo-English as I pull myself out of my bed. I’m naked. I suppose I should remedy that. So I throw on a pair of shorts that are in a desperate need of having all of my ‘lonliness’ washed out of them. 

My stomach growls at me like the yippy little cunt of a dog my mother used to own, so I stumble towards the kitchen, my jerky, spastic movements making me vaguely resemble the love child of Jack Sparrow and a mental defect. 

I swing open my cupboard, grab a bowl and drop it loudly onto the counter. Having forgotten to close aforementioned cupboard, I smash my unsuspecting forehead into it on the way to my refrigerator. Huffing fuck repeatedly I pull out the half empty bag of milk (I am Canadian after all) and begin pouring it into the empty bowl. 

Shit! Where the fuck’s the cereal? I quickly stop pouring milk into the bowl and turn around to face the sister cupboard to the one who had previously assaulted me. I peer inside and realize I don’t have a fuck of a lot to choose from. Oatmeal Crisp it is. The breakfast cereal of grandparents everywhere. Rightfully so, as that shit is the bomb. 

I sprinkle the barely fresh cereal into the half full bowl of milk, allowing a content sigh to brush past my lips as I fill my bowl to the top. I grab a spoon and sit down. 

Not even thirty seconds after seating myself, something hits me. Something terrible enough to ruin my blissful Oatmeal Crisp devouring experience. 

I have to shit.