Two Friends Talking About How to Make Your Dong Look Floppier w/Jimmy and Zane

Zane
Oh boy, that's what I was afraid of. Jimmy I have some bad news for you pal, you have cooties. I was going to try and make you feel better by telling you that you have polio but it's no use. On the bright side though, you'll never have to worry about catching cooties from that smelly kid on the playground ever again.

Jimmy
The smelly kid left me for some whore supermodel. I don't care, it's his loss. God I miss him

Zane
Was it a crack whore supermodel or simple one of them plain Jane, run-of-the-mill, everyday, who cares, forget-about-it supermodels?

Jimmy
I may have misspoke when I called her a whore. I was speaking out of anger. She's more of a harlot.

Zane
Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't a harlot a big fat smelly women who refuses to breast feed?

Jimmy
That's her alright. Boy I tell you what, women are more trouble than they're worth. They act like they're into you, but then leave you when a guy with a bigger floppier ding dong comes along.

Zane
I don't think it's the bigger, I think it's the floppier that get's 'em. Every girl I've ever met has told me that. Here's a little trick I learned to make your wang look floppier. When you pull your pants down slap your butt cheeks together over and over again. If you're coughing while doing it that helps too. You're welcome.

Jimmy
Man, that worked like a charm! The only lady around I had to try it out on was my great aunt Gladys, but she seemed to really get a kick out of it. She said it was, "a toe tappin', hand clappin' good time."

Zane
I bet it was a great time. I wish I could have been there with your great aunt Gladys. How old is she now? 100? You must have really put on a show for her too in order for her to give you such a glowing review. I remember once I tried to impress her with how clean the inside of my underwear were by filling it with potato soup and having her eat it. When it was all said and done she simple said it was, "sort of nice." Sort of nice!? I had third degree burns on my ball sac!

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Two Friends Talking About Diarrhea and Jock Straps and Polio w/Jimmy and Zane

Jimmy
Work to the wise; don't twerk if you have diarrhea. It doesn't end well for anyone.
Word to the wise, that is

Zane
Good point. I'm putting that on my "things not to do if you have diarrhea" list. So far, I have "don't jump on a trampoline" and "don't wear ass-less chaps". The last one is best to avoid altogether but especially if you have the runs. Speaking of ass-less garments, what's with the two little ass straps in the back of a jock strap? Why not just cover the entire ass?

Jimmy
I know! I'm walking around like a fool with my ass completely vulnerable to attack. If someone's gonna attack you, there's a good chance they're gonna do it from behind you. And you know what's back there? You're ass! It pisses me off so fucking bad!

Zane
Oh yeah, there's a lot of people out there who'd attack any ass they find unguarded. I just rented a documentary style movie about this very topic called Ass Assassins. I figure it'll give some good pointers on how to avoid these types of attacks. If there's anything in there of note I'll pass it on...We'll I just finished the movie. Great movie by the way. It's a porno.

Jimmy
I enjoy a good porno from time to time. I especially like the kissing and the hugging. Makes me a little warm just thinking about it.

Zane
I personally think there's way too much sex in porno's. It's all
wham, slam, cram, and Whoa! close-up of a gaping butt hole. Where's the romance, the buying of flowers, the swift kick to the side of the head just to get a quick peek at an ankle? That's the porno movie I want to see.

Jimmy
Porn is a bad influence to impressionable youngsters. I saw my fist porn when I was 14, so when I had my first date, of course I thought it was supposed to be like a porno. So, I go to the young lady's house to pick her up, he mom and dad are there so I'm thinking, "this is the part where the group sex breaks out". Turns out that's not proper first date etiquette. Live and learn I guess.

Zane
I'm going to assume you meant "her mom and dad" not "he mom and dad". Fuck, what do I know? Maybe you meant "his mom and dad" or maybe you wanted to write "her aunt and uncle". For fucks sake it doesn't matter. All we care about is the fact that the first porno you ever watched was some weird group sex thing that involved adults and children.

Jimmy
I actually meant to say he/she, cause my girlfriend was a hermaphrodite. Sorry for the confusion.

Zane
No need to apologize, I get it. Speaking of getting "it", did you ever get vaccinated for polio?

Jimmy
No I'm not falling for that scam. "Polio" is just a college boy way of saying cooties.

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The History of My Toilet: Part I and II and III

     My toilet started life in Bulltown, New Mexico where the Chicago Standard Toilet Factory lives. My toilet wasn't made in this particular factory but since Bulltown has no other distinctive features it only made sense to mention the factory. My toilet was made in the back room of a small pottery studio owned by Francis Williamtion who used the room for not only making custom toilets but also bongs and crack pipes which she in turn traded to the neighborhood children for candy and popcorn balls (without razor blades, she always insisted).
     How I came into ownership of the toilet is a story so predictably made-up and full of shit that it cannot be kept secret any longer. And here it be...
     I visited Bulltown August 19, 1789 on a dare. My roommate and I had been playing strip checkers and after I had lost the fifth game in a row and was completely naked he still insisted I play another game. "I'm fucking naked already. I can't get any more naked." I said. "Alright then. The loser of this game has to go to Bulltown, New Mexico and kill Francis Williamtion." my roommate said.
     The thought of killing a women I didn't know bothered me. If I was going to have to kill this women, I'd have to get to know her, sleep with her even. I might even have to dress up in some of her clothes, take a bath in her sink, wash her dog, and worst of all take picture of myself wearing her panties over the top of my clothes like some freak superhero custom. This was going to be a sick and twisted job for sure. First though, I had to lose this game of checkers.
     My roommate opened with doosy of a first move; middle checker forward one square. Fuck! I couldn't let him know that he had totally fucked my game plan on his very first move. This was going to be the checker match of my life.
     After six torturous minutes of game play there was finally a winner and a loser. I was the mother fucking winner. It would not be I who went to Bulltown to kill Francis. I felt like squeezing my dick and balls together.
     As I watched my roommate gather his things, I realized two things. One, he needed new luggage and two, I was not going to let him walk out of this apartment alive.

To be continued....

...And now continued.

     Call me old fashioned if you want because I don't give a shit. I'll just turn right around and call you fat. Go fuck yourself. The point being, once I've made up my mind to kill someone there's no turning back. I've spoken to a lot of people who say they're going to kill someone then get cold feet or get arrested or fall down and sprain their ankle or something else and end up killing no one. Not me. I wear one of those lace-up braces on my ankles that makes it virtually impossible to sprain my ankle and I haven't fell down in like six months. 

     Killing my roommate wasn't going to be easy. He was a trained assassin himself and he always wore body armor. Poisoning him was going to be the only way that would work. There was one other catch; he was immune to all known poisons. I was going to have to shoot him. Then I remembered that he wore body armor... but not on his face or feet. 

      My mind was made up. I was going to shoot his cock-sucking feet off. Wait. Would shooting someone's feet off really kill them? This was when I wished I paid attention in murder school. I changed my mind and decided to blow his mother fucking head clean off the top part of his neck and into the lake that sits directly behind our apartment.  

     I pulled my bazooka out of my pocket lined the targeting system up with the middle of his forehead and pulled the trigger. 

     Nothing.

     There was a fraction of a second that seemed to last a million-billion days between the time I realized my bazooka wasn't loaded and the time my roommate realized I was trying to blow his fucking head off. That time just sort of hung in the air like Micheal Jordan used to do when she was jumping out of a moving vehicle.

     Once my roomy finally realized what was happening he did the impossible. He turned invisible. 

To be continued...

...and then re-continued.

    Someone who is invisible is only slightly harder to kill for a trained assassin. In murder school they teach you to kill just as easily by using your other senses such as hearing, smell, and in this instance taste.
    Upon realizing what I was dealing with I immediately started licking my arms and shoulders. I wanted to make sure and rule out the obvious hiding places first. My arms, shoulders, inside of my mouth, upper lip, lower lip, palm, back of hand, and then I tried my foot but couldn't reach. Didn't matter. He wasn't there.
    Once I ruled out my own body I moved on to the toilet in our apartment and then the urinals and the floor immediately underneath them located at Skippy's which is the bar we like to hang out at. I did not particularly want to do this because it was super gross and there was a ton of pubes and piss on the floor but it was the only other place I could imagine that an invisible man might be hiding. I wanted to make super duper certain for surely sure he wasn't secretly hiding there so I took all my clothes off and even wiped my butt with a paper towel but didn't wipe it all the way through, just let the paper stay between my cheeks. Then I licked the floor for about an hour and was about to quit when this big cowboy riding a two-wheeled motorcycle came flying in and about scared the living shit out of me.
    "Am I interrupting something important, George Washington?" he said and then he started doing burn-outs and flipping me off.
    Not wanting to show any signs of intimidation, I put on my best "sex-kitten" face, plucked a few pubes off my tongue, and stood up to face this piece of shit man-to-man.

To be continued....
   
   
    

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