I didn't do a fucking thing and I'm not going to either. I moped around
hating everything all day wishing I could just kill everybody,
especially YOU. I went to Deseret and found a grain mill attachment for
a friend's mixer for five bucks, but of course there was some stupid
bastard there who had to treat everybody to his marvelous talent of loud
shrill whistling along with the muzak and it took all the strength of my
inhuman will not to ram that grain mill attachment up his fat ass and
say whistle this off you bloated freak. I took it over to the Mystery
Hole and picked up the post-hole digger I meant to borrow last week to
put up a thing for the grape vine to grow up. I filled the car up with
gas. You idiots. I wouldn't be caught dead, decapitated or dismembered
on the same plane of existence as all but about three of you. Just shut
up. That's how I celebrate X-Day.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: HellPope Huey X <radiopopeNOraSPAM@hotmail.com.invalid>
Newsgroups: alt.slack
Date: Thu, Jul 6, 2000 10:56 AM
>
Aw, he's just mad because he didn't get the Mystery Bonobo
Blowjob I got. I have a string tied around my neck and the other
end holding up my penis, just hoping the shaft will realign
naturally. It be's that much fine blowfun muchy muchy. Wherever
you are on X-Day, you're supposed to do something strange and
hedonistic that moistens yer thighs. Due props, Doktor, but you
cain't get no nut ridin' no MO-ped. Ah, life is ____.
HellPope Huey,
Oven Cleaner Fumes, Nebraska, which is bad,
as I live in Arkansas
Original file name: What I did on X-Day
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