Smelling the Flowers

When trying to decide between two evils I think it's best to just flip a coin. As a matter of fact, I think the coin flip is probably the best way of going about making any decision. Should I shower today? Coin says no. What about brushing my teeth? Nope. How about wiping my butt? Yes.

Of course you just can't walk around flipping a goddamn coin every time you need to make a decision like you're a fucking Batman villain. You'll look like a jackass and people will stop taking you serious. Being taken serious by everyone is very important. I know because the coin told me so. That's not entirely true. You only need to be taken serous by people you want to be like or are scared of. This could be any number of people depending where you're located on the social ladder, but generally this would be your boss, teachers, lawyers, members of the opposite sex, dogs, lions, and all large meat eating semi-aquatic mammals.

Instead of flipping a stupid mother fucking coin, try picking a color. For instance, you are standing in line at Starbucks and you're trying to decide whether to fart or continue to hold it in. You look over your shoulder and see there's this smoking hot Russian ballerina doing the splits behind you and behind her is the West Virginia State Cheer Leading Squad and they're all bragging about how well their noses work. Seems like the fart or no fart question is pretty obvious doesn't it? Well, not so fucking fast. If you continue to hold in your fart it's liable to work it's way up into your throat creating a dreaded fart burp. Blowing a fart burp into a Starbucks employees face is like begging the Pope to let you finger bang his butt-hole--not recommended. So you decide that if the next thing you pull out of your pocket is red, blue, green, or purple you will fart, if it's black, tan, brown, or light brown you'll fart burp. It's so fucking easy to do.

Get with the program. This isn't rocket science we're talking about here. I don't even know how many times I get asked shit like "What if my dad says, no?" or "Should I go dancing?" These things DO NOT matter. The only decisions that truly matter are the ones that get you money or sex or compliments. Compliments are so fucking important that it doesn't make sense. And for fucking sake, get your compliments in front of other people! If some low-life tells you that you look cool when you walk and no ones around to hear it, it didn't happen. Think of it like this, would you believe that someone walked up to another person and said "Hey pal, you walk cool." Of course you wouldn't. No one talks like that.

Lastly, take the time to smell some flowers. It's not an accident that they smell nice. If they wanted you to go around sniffing sewage recycling plants then guess what? They'd smell nice, but they don't.

Love,

Zane

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Beacon's Point

     “Beacon’s Point?” Gill rubbed his chin. He’d heard of the place before. It was supposedly haunted by the ghost of a little girl who was murdered there in the 60’s. “I’m not sending the guy’s down that road. They’ve seen enough for one day.”

     “Oh, for fucks sake. You’re not thinking about those old stories are you?” Herb said. He looked around at the five other men standing beside the road. “Sure, they’ve seen a lot today, but detouring four miles ain’t helping them either. Not because of some stupid fucking ghost story. I say we head straight into the Point.”

     Bill wasn’t sure if it was the ghost of the little girl or something else that twisted his stomach at the thought of Beacon’s Point. He remembered when he was nine years old his grandmother told him that Beacon’s Point was a “nasty place teenagers went to rub and scrub their bodies on each other.” He didn’t have any idea what she meant by that and always assumed that it had something to do with taking a bath.

     By the time he actually saw the Point for the first time, as a teenager, he got to experience the rub and the scrub first-hand with Jenny Coulders. It was an awkward affair with Jenny doing most of the rubbing and scrubbing. Bill just sat there like a corpse with a hard-on. Even though he was getting his dick rubbed for the first time, he couldn’t help but think about the ghost.

     At one point—Jenny had moved on from the rub and was now doing some scrub—Bill actually convinced himself that he did see the ghost. He was just about to make a mess in his underwear (for the second time) when he saw movement outside the passenger window. He thought it looked like someone with a flashlight

     “Someone’s out there,” he whispered.

     Jenny paused mid-scrub to look out the window.

     “Oh, shit! It’s my dad!”

     She bolted upright and into the driver’s seat in one swift fluid motion. Both of them sat silently staring straight ahead waiting for the inevitable knock on the car door from Jenny’s father. Bill boner quickly faded into his slick and sticky boxers. His heart pounding in his chest. After what seemed to be several hours the two relaxed, accepting the fact that no knock was coming.

     They were stuck in an uncomfortable silence. Bill was trying to figure out what his next “move” should be while Jenny wondered just what the fuck she was doing all the way out here with a loser who was too afraid to pull his tiny dick out.

     The mood had passed for Jenny as she turned the key in the ignition.

     “I getting hungry. You want to—“ she never finished that sentence.

     The window next to her head exploded inwards taking the top of her of her head clean off. The object that had flown through the window exited the car via the roof through an eight-inch slit it created with lighting speed. Bill only saw the tracers. He looked down at the severed scalp and passed the fuck out.


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What I think heaven is like

Despite my insane attitudes toward life and limbs, I do believe in heaven above. I think that when we die our souls (barely visible versions of ourselves) float out of our bodies and float all the way in to the sky. There's a bunch of other souls up in the clouds with special nets designed to catch the souls. If you're a piece of shit or if they're not paying attention your soul will just keep floating up into outer space. No one knows where you'll end up then. Probably getting butt fucked my Martians.

The people who are caught in the nets (about 86%) get dumped out on their heads. It's going to hurt and you'll be tempted to jump up and start a fight but then you'll realize you're on a cloud and that's going to scare the shit out of you. Then some dude with a beard will float up to you and start singing some boring song about your life. You're going to be bored out of your mind but some parts will be cool. There's a verse about the first time you fucked a girl and it'll be a little embarrassing to listen to because your grandma will be standing right there shaking her head but it's still cool.

After the song you have to get stripped searched to make sure you're not smuggling any contraband into heaven. They make you get fully nude and they're going to look in your butt hole. It's sick as fuck but they wont stick a finger in there or anything unless you give them probable cause, so don't clench your cheeks too tight.

Next you'll be fitted for your new clothes. You go into this big empty room with a ton of other souls and you'll all still be naked. There's going to be some hot girls in there too and you're going to think that one of them wants to fuck. You'll start to get horny and then this older heavenly guy will come over and give you a talking to and make you feel like a dick. He gives you this big long speak about "bodies and lust and boners and blah, blah, blah" By the time he's finished you wont want to do it with that chick anymore. That speech is the equivilant of saltpeter. It sucks but you wont have to worry about getting hard-ons while wearing your new clothes which are nothing more than shitty K Mart bedsheets.

When you're done, that's it. You're dead and in heaven. You can look down and see all the people that you used to know. Those are the only people you can see too; them and reletives. You can't just randomly look down and watch the circus for instance. It's good advice to know as many people as you can so you can watch more people when you die. I'm probably going to spend most of my time watching my great grand children learn to ride bikes. I just think it's fun to watch them fall down and cry. That sounds mean but I don't think it is. That's a hell of a time in a childs life. Learning how to fall and fuck your knee all up and then get back on the mother fucker knowing there's a good chance it's going to happen again. That takes some balls. Sometimes I think those balls shrink as people get older. As soon as something happens and they think there's even a small possiblility they're going to get hurt they won't do something. That's bullshit.

I hope my balls never shrink.



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There's a good chance this will happen.

Tomorrow's Tax Day and everyone knows what that means: time to give/get atomic wedgies to the old man who lives next door.

I love Tax Day. It's my favorite fucking time of the year. I know Old Man Jensen hates it; can't rightly blame him. He's the one who gets the fuck ripped out of his underwear and his butt hole all torn to smithereenies. Of course there's always the chance that you yourself could get your undergarment snatched nice and tight like up your own shit crack. There is a chance of that, but it's so unlikely nowadays that I hardly even think about it. All I care about is getting my hands on Old Man Jensen's elastic waistband and pulling the shit right out of it. I might even bite him this year. It's frowned upon in most Tax Day circles, but I say "fuck'um."

Hopefully, the butt-face looking dude who lives upstairs doesn't get to the old man first. There is a good chance that will happen. I overheard Dr. Butt-Face talking to his daughter-in-law about how he just bought this new chair and how he was going to sit on it all night long waiting for the Tax Day bell to ring. He'll more-than-likely shit in the chair too because his ass is so big turds have a hard time staying inside his stomach.

Unfortunately I don't have a chair for my turds to jump into. I don't even have a tree that I could make a chair out of. I'd give up half a wedgie if I could get my hands on a good chair building tree. There's only two chances of that one ever happening which are slim and none. The trees around here just aren't made for chair building. They're too tall and the wood is too hard. Most of them are even covered in this real tough looking shit called "tree skin" that I'd just assume avoid.

My game plan for getting to the old man first is a simple one. First, I'll be wearing a disguise. It's an elaborate get-up complete with a wig and fake mustache. There's also a fake road sign that looks like it's sticking out of my right leg and a rubber hammer glued to my left leg. Both my ears will be glued tightly to my head making hearing anything virtually impossible. I decided to actually shave my head instead of wearing one of those corny bald wig things. Those always make me look stupid. And the final piece of the custom, the piece that turns this from ordinary to extraordinary, are my fully functioning rocket skates that'll strapped to my feet. I haven't tried them out yet because the the guy who sold them to me said there was a better than average change that I'll blow my feet off the first time I use them. I hope Old Man Jensen get's to be the poor sucker who sees that!

Part two of my plan is call him first and ask him nicely if he'll let me rip his underwear up his butt. If he says no, I'm fucked. If he says yes, it's game on. Fuck right it is.




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