I use to be a gangbanger. mainly because I thought it would be a good way to meet chicks. Wrong. But that's another story.
Our errand boy, who I'll call "Stomper", since legally I cant use his real name, was always a little funny style. He was loud, obnoxious and fat. He treated others like shit and thought he was god's gift to surenos, women and the world in general. In fact, he was a little slow, which is why we didn't kick him out of the gang
However, after a night which saw Stomper pull some of his most dumb and cruel moves of all time, including making our waitress at Blue Robin cry, we decided it was time for Stomper to receive his comeuppance.
Following dinner at the Blue Robins, went to go drink some heem and 211
Stomper, true to form, drank six tall cans in 90 minutes and passed out face down on the couch immediately following a drunken tirade about him carrying the gang with his muscles and how is El Mero Mero Sureno
We decided it was time to make good on our darkest desires. Sad Boy pulled down Stompers pants and boxers, at which Stomper mumbled in his coma, "One at a time, ladies, there's more than enough Stomper Loc to go around..."
His fate was sealed.
Having lost the coin toss, Spider and I, wearing dishwashing gloves for safety, pulled Stompers ass cheeks apart. Lil Smiley who lost both the coin toss and rock-paper-scissors, opened his "emergency condom" (which would never have seen the light of day otherwise), and used a pen to poke the condom deep into Stopers gaping ass-crack.
Oh aye gwey , the horror.
The insertion complete, them and I dry heaved our way to the backyard where we burned our rubber gloves and used bleach to scrub our hands and forearms.
Then we retired to Caspers living room for video games and beer.
I was the only one not drinking, so I was also the only one awake in the morning when Stomper shook off his drunken stupor. I was watching the news when Stomper rolled off the couch and noticed his pants were down. I studied him carefully, watching as he looked around, blinking and hungover, wondering what was going on. Then came the look.
It crossed over his face like a tornado going through a trailer park as he noticed the foreign object lodged in his fat ass. He slowly reached down and pulled the mayonaisse laced condom out from between his legs. It caught a little, leading to an immensely gratifying elastic snap as the tip of the condom released and slapped into his palm.
He looked at me in terror, fighting back heaves, his eyes tearing up.
"Dirt what the fuck happened last night?" he asked me, his voice trembling like an altar boy.
"I don't know, Stomper Maybe you should ask Spider," I said, pointing over to where our 6'7, 350-pound leader lay at ease in a recliner, snoring like a satiated bear.
Stomper looked from me to Spider and back to me again. Without a word, he hiked up his pants and tore out of there like a long, powerful fart, his blue chuck taylors squeeking across the floor
We never saw him again.
Our errand boy, who I'll call "Stomper", since legally I cant use his real name, was always a little funny style. He was loud, obnoxious and fat. He treated others like shit and thought he was god's gift to surenos, women and the world in general. In fact, he was a little slow, which is why we didn't kick him out of the gang
However, after a night which saw Stomper pull some of his most dumb and cruel moves of all time, including making our waitress at Blue Robin cry, we decided it was time for Stomper to receive his comeuppance.
Following dinner at the Blue Robins, went to go drink some heem and 211
Stomper, true to form, drank six tall cans in 90 minutes and passed out face down on the couch immediately following a drunken tirade about him carrying the gang with his muscles and how is El Mero Mero Sureno
We decided it was time to make good on our darkest desires. Sad Boy pulled down Stompers pants and boxers, at which Stomper mumbled in his coma, "One at a time, ladies, there's more than enough Stomper Loc to go around..."
His fate was sealed.
Having lost the coin toss, Spider and I, wearing dishwashing gloves for safety, pulled Stompers ass cheeks apart. Lil Smiley who lost both the coin toss and rock-paper-scissors, opened his "emergency condom" (which would never have seen the light of day otherwise), and used a pen to poke the condom deep into Stopers gaping ass-crack.
Oh aye gwey , the horror.
The insertion complete, them and I dry heaved our way to the backyard where we burned our rubber gloves and used bleach to scrub our hands and forearms.
Then we retired to Caspers living room for video games and beer.
I was the only one not drinking, so I was also the only one awake in the morning when Stomper shook off his drunken stupor. I was watching the news when Stomper rolled off the couch and noticed his pants were down. I studied him carefully, watching as he looked around, blinking and hungover, wondering what was going on. Then came the look.
It crossed over his face like a tornado going through a trailer park as he noticed the foreign object lodged in his fat ass. He slowly reached down and pulled the mayonaisse laced condom out from between his legs. It caught a little, leading to an immensely gratifying elastic snap as the tip of the condom released and slapped into his palm.
He looked at me in terror, fighting back heaves, his eyes tearing up.
"Dirt what the fuck happened last night?" he asked me, his voice trembling like an altar boy.
"I don't know, Stomper Maybe you should ask Spider," I said, pointing over to where our 6'7, 350-pound leader lay at ease in a recliner, snoring like a satiated bear.
Stomper looked from me to Spider and back to me again. Without a word, he hiked up his pants and tore out of there like a long, powerful fart, his blue chuck taylors squeeking across the floor
We never saw him again.
