Extra Pies At All Pay Toilets
I woke up early this morning wondering about the traffic. I don't normally think that much about who's driving what where, when, since my commute is about five miles straight down Virginia Beach Blvd, until I get to my work at the death house. In case you did not know, I work where all of the zombies who are bosses above me seem to have the look of the dead in their eyes. Maybe they just have a poor bowel movement every morning. Morning plop plops can cause one to be really sick, unless you know what you're doing. Do you really know what the hell you're doing.
As I laid in bed, I thought that there were no cars on the interstate, but that there were thousands of stolen shopping carts. Stolen from K-Mart, Lowes, Wal-Mart, and lots of others so we can pick our items every morning to deliver to the degenerates who buy from us. Gee...if the cops ever bust a move, wide open into our warehouse, I think we're all going to the hoose-gow. I can see now, outside my cell window, the one with the little bars that look like Liberace's candles, the gallows being prepared for me, not only for stealing and using stolen shopping carts, but for all of my previous and various crimes. Well, gals, all good things gotta come to an end. Or is that beginning?
I got a letter from my Orthodox Jewish sister in Israel last week. I tried to convince her to come home to America, the land of really really cheap Pay toilets (they charge a dollar in Israel...that's the result of State Universal Coverage for Plops and pee). But she is committed to the State Of the Jews, even if it means meeting the President of Iran (his name is not spelled out because I forgot how) in a cage match at the Jerusalem Arena, which is on forth street, near this really bitchin' shul, where they let you praise Jesus, eat, pee in your pants, sit in the back if you're lonely and , well...you do the math, sell Poopsicles, make unleavened bread, and none of the ladies wear bras. My sis really does not approve of this synagogue, but the Israeli government told her if she wants to wrestle that guy from Iran, she'll have to wrestle the women champ of Jerusalem, Bertha Bloomstein.
Bertha is 57, and on the down end of her career, so Angie might have a chance to get her to submit, and then push her head into one of the state toilets. All good stuff.
I'm still worried that one day I'll wake up and the only thing on the road will be little bugs. I'll squash them.
Joe
As I laid in bed, I thought that there were no cars on the interstate, but that there were thousands of stolen shopping carts. Stolen from K-Mart, Lowes, Wal-Mart, and lots of others so we can pick our items every morning to deliver to the degenerates who buy from us. Gee...if the cops ever bust a move, wide open into our warehouse, I think we're all going to the hoose-gow. I can see now, outside my cell window, the one with the little bars that look like Liberace's candles, the gallows being prepared for me, not only for stealing and using stolen shopping carts, but for all of my previous and various crimes. Well, gals, all good things gotta come to an end. Or is that beginning?
I got a letter from my Orthodox Jewish sister in Israel last week. I tried to convince her to come home to America, the land of really really cheap Pay toilets (they charge a dollar in Israel...that's the result of State Universal Coverage for Plops and pee). But she is committed to the State Of the Jews, even if it means meeting the President of Iran (his name is not spelled out because I forgot how) in a cage match at the Jerusalem Arena, which is on forth street, near this really bitchin' shul, where they let you praise Jesus, eat, pee in your pants, sit in the back if you're lonely and , well...you do the math, sell Poopsicles, make unleavened bread, and none of the ladies wear bras. My sis really does not approve of this synagogue, but the Israeli government told her if she wants to wrestle that guy from Iran, she'll have to wrestle the women champ of Jerusalem, Bertha Bloomstein.
Bertha is 57, and on the down end of her career, so Angie might have a chance to get her to submit, and then push her head into one of the state toilets. All good stuff.
I'm still worried that one day I'll wake up and the only thing on the road will be little bugs. I'll squash them.
Joe
posted by Mr. Liberty at 12:57 PM
3 Comments:
So, are pies floating down the street there like little sailboats with all that rain?
Yes, Phil, they are. In many different varieties. Apple-pee, Blueberry-Shit, Mince-Meat-3, and many others.
All pies have little hats.
Joe
I'm still here in 2020.
Post a Comment
<< Home