I walked on the set and said hello to the director. He shook my hand with a smile and introduced himself. Tom was his name. I remember he had a nice firm handshake, the kind that makes you think about his firm penis while he shakes your hand up and down. Too bad he was only the director.
I walked on the set and introduced myself to all the characters. Checking out the set, I noticed there were pictures on the wall. Family pictures, ones of kids on vacation, growing up, the kind that make you long for being ‘normal’ as your father would call it.
“Why can’t you be the son I always wanted” he would ask, as he finished the last of his beer, moving onto a new one.
“Why can’t you be like your old man and enjoy the touch of a woman, instead of having your shit shoved by your Uncle Mcowles?”
I never asked him why he was fine with Uncle Mcowles desire to stick his schlong in his only son, but for some reason the fact that I liked it really made him mad. I didn’t care. I stood there with my erect penis in hand, jerking it while he berated me with words. Part of me liked it. Part of me enjoyed knowing this angered him.
“You know your Uncle Mcowles has aids, right?”
I knew…because I had it too.
“You know what I think of aids, right?”
“It’s funny,” he said.
I told him it wasn’t a joke, and that’s when little sister came in. She told me to stop jerking off in the living room. I said I would stop once dad stops drinking. He threw the bottle at me, luckily I caught it in one hand; but at this point I was upset.
“You want to see what Uncle Mcowles does?” — at which point I went over to the gas fireplace, turned it on, and bent over on the mantle. I held the bottle by the neck and inserted it all the way. He laughed while I smiled. It was just another tuesday night, after all. Uncle Mcowles was on his way over to play poker, but he promised he would use the chips to ‘loosen up’ so we could have our own fun after the game.
I always knew Uncle Mcowles was a weird one, even without the aids–there was something about another man he could not resist, especially his brothers son.
Are you actively serious!? That is the whole point. OMG! You truly are retarded.
Are you new to Lamebook? Every other complaint on here is about how annoying it is when people write “their” instead of “they’re” or “your” instead of “you’re”.
Holy crap my head hurts now. Way to fuck up my night ass clown!
Yes, I’m new to Lamebook, but I think I get it now.
If we act exactly like stupid people, with no hint that we are being sarcastic, everyone will know that we are not stupid. We will know exactly who all the idiots are, because they will be the ones who write “your”, and we will know exactly who the smart people are, because they will all be writing “your” while SECRETLY THINKING “you’re”. Sheer brilliance, your retarded [sic].
I think you just fucked up and felt stupid, so you had to go on the attack. I’m glad your fucking head hurts, particularly as you are one of those spastics who feel the need to use three consecutive explanation marks. I hope it’s a fucking tumor.
Thanks for the warm welcome.
PS What’s the difference between being actively serious and passively serious?
The sad thing is using “your retarded” as a joke isn’t even new or clever. There are 5 billion t-shirts out there that have that screen printed on them. Still though, you are brilliant. Now you can go play Dungeons and Dragons in your mum’s basement this Sunday and tell everyone how brilliant you were to some anonymous person online.
By the way “5 billion” was a hyperbole. I don’t want you to have to worry about pointing out the bloody obvious anymore.
Thanks, but I’ve never played dungeons and dragons, I don’t have a basement and my mother lives in a different country. But cheers dude, nice effort at almost a comeback that looks even more pathetic after you told me my comment was brilliant and after I threw you some concilliatory scraps by pointing out one of my own errors.
I’m not a dude, dude. Furthermore, I don’t need your “concilliatory scraps.” I was being sarcastic when I called you brilliant. I know sarcasm doesn’t read but still your self deprication was very sweet.
BTW that’s 26 explanation marks. Just saving you the trouble of having to count.
‘Is it even hygienic to bang in a cemetary??’.
Oh you sound like an impulsive person if your consideration is whether the sex is going to be hygienic. Just fuck then worry about it. I don’t think the dead people will mind.