I'm so frustrated, what's a homie gotta do to get his balls drained, his nuts tickled, and his ass rimmed? Don't know why chicks ain't into that last one. I used to rim my brother's best friend's cousin's sister's tutor's behind. It was no big deal. It's like jail sex, when you're in the slammer, holmes, and hard up, it's like eatin' fast food when you're starvin' in the desert, No one ain't gonna hold it against you. So what if I stuck my face up a pile of butt crack, it wasn't that bad. I was six and I didn't know any better, I just followed the eye of the tiger and stuck it right between the sweet cheeks of the tutor who was a genius at math and freebasing. So good at math he got my number.
Sometimes a brotha's gotta do somethin' to drain their nuts. I tried to train my cat like DeNiro on Meet the Parents. He got that damn cat trained like a motha.....my cat just kept clawin' my nuts and her tongue feels like sandpaper. You know, like cheap one ply toilet tissue except you ain't got nothin' to pick out yer ass right after. I hate pickin' out that shit from my butt. Why they gotta make cheap ass toilet paper like that? I ain't against bein' frugal now, but come on, this ain't like buying draft beer, holmes, this is some shit that leaves a mark on yer butt. The human stain. I jus don't get why chicks want you to shower before sex. So wazz a little wad of tp between your cheeks? Wazz a little (ok - big) beer gut between fuck buddies? We gonna turn out the lights anyway. Not like she's gonna have her hand up my azz and call me Steve. That'd be voluntary duty. You ever see some of the chicks I date? Unsavory cunts, most of 'em. Most of 'em got wads of tissue in their labias. WHEW! Bros, next time stick your head down some local hotbox at your neighborhood dives. Trust me, my nuts smell sweeter on a sweltering summer day than their twat box in a morgue.
Bein' the frugal brotha I am, I got save money for game, you know. Not just pickin' up chicks but all those sports events I'm an enthusiast about. Down at the SE corner where Tracks used to be, there's an old sport called Fist Your Finogle. You spend a few bucks at the theater and walk into a closed room that's black and dark and the smell of bung holes briskly rubbing against each other could ignite a California wildfire and blow some nostrils out. My nose hadn't been this lit up since that last eighth of blow me and Kelly Ann Collins did off my dick. By the way, KAC is the finest piece I've ever had. She dumped me after I called her Steve a few too many times. But come on, Bros! The humorless bitch had it coming. She put a blonde wig on me and called me Windy!
I squeezed my ass in this tiny seat and sat next to some dude pullin' a PeeWee Herman. I didn't know it was a gay theater. Don't know why I keep gettin' my ass in these situations. Sometimes I think my body is like a shish kabob stuck between two chunks of green peppers. This invokes many deep questions. Why am I there? Beef stands on it own alone, and why do I keep gettin' put in the wrong oven? Totally saps my potential and the full flavor of my beef keeps gettin' botched by some full moon lunacy. I forgot to add there were some onions on that kabob stick and I should 'em have held 'em. My game partner refused to swallow my joy juice. You taste like onions, he whined.
I'm an acquired taste, I quipped. You'll be singing my praises later. You'll see.
Next thing yer know, the lights toss out and someone's tossin' on me. It's pitch black and next thing I know, a got two lips and a fist up my rear. Now thankfully I was drunk as a skunk, high as a kite, but strong as Ali in his finest moment. I was flyin' like a , what's the saying? And stingin' like a fierce white negro butterly. Oh yo yo, check this out, a bee, yo yo, flyin' like a bee, and stinging like a fierce white negro butterfly, like my man K-Fed, yo, that's it, bros.
Damn I'm good. That's why the chicks think I'm fierce with a capital F. F I ERCE!
But tonight I'm left without some 'tang. At least I got pussy at home.
