(no subject)
Funniest thing I've read today, for some reason. It's probably my masculine predilection for poo jokes.
Fuck that.
Next time he gives you some lip, you make your move. Prepare your revenge by eating nothing but Taco Bell, bran muffins, and cheap whiskey for the next three days. Then you wait until you're in the next board meeting and someone asks if there are any comments. Jump up on the table and say "Yeah! I got a comment!" Then you whip your cock out and smack him in the face with it. He'll freeze out of shock, and while he's standing there bugeyed 'cause he's just been cockslapped you whirl around and go all Tubgirl on him! With any luck he'll slip in the poo and fall down, and finding himself face down in a steaming puddle of whiskey-poo he'll most likely hurl like a 90-pound freshman cheerleader at her first frat kegger. The combined smell of poo and hurl should cause a chain reaction around the boadroom as the entire staff voids their stomachs and bowels in a cataclysmic emetic eruption of Biblical proportions. While everyone's flailing around in a growing lake of filth, you slip out the side window.
As the coup de grace, you run to his house and tell his wife he's been busted for child pornography. She'll run screaming to her mother, which will leave you unfettered in his home. Get his daughter *and* the dog pregnant, burn down the house, and create a huge upside-down pentagram on his front lawn in weed killer.
"Just walk out?"
Feh.
That's not the kind of talk that got us through Guadalcanal, you know?
Fuck that.
Next time he gives you some lip, you make your move. Prepare your revenge by eating nothing but Taco Bell, bran muffins, and cheap whiskey for the next three days. Then you wait until you're in the next board meeting and someone asks if there are any comments. Jump up on the table and say "Yeah! I got a comment!" Then you whip your cock out and smack him in the face with it. He'll freeze out of shock, and while he's standing there bugeyed 'cause he's just been cockslapped you whirl around and go all Tubgirl on him! With any luck he'll slip in the poo and fall down, and finding himself face down in a steaming puddle of whiskey-poo he'll most likely hurl like a 90-pound freshman cheerleader at her first frat kegger. The combined smell of poo and hurl should cause a chain reaction around the boadroom as the entire staff voids their stomachs and bowels in a cataclysmic emetic eruption of Biblical proportions. While everyone's flailing around in a growing lake of filth, you slip out the side window.
As the coup de grace, you run to his house and tell his wife he's been busted for child pornography. She'll run screaming to her mother, which will leave you unfettered in his home. Get his daughter *and* the dog pregnant, burn down the house, and create a huge upside-down pentagram on his front lawn in weed killer.
"Just walk out?"
Feh.
That's not the kind of talk that got us through Guadalcanal, you know?