Tuesday, February 15, 2005

More fictional delight from the world of Scarfy McGee and Beardy McFace

I have figured out why Scarfy McGee always wears a hat, and simultaneously my interest has become piqued. Scarfy has...frosted tips. His hair is ridiculous. It looks like Scarfy took a pony ride down to the extreme reaches of Affleck County. Also, his head comes to a point--not quite a Conehead, but he's no Beardy McFace either. I never thought I'd see the day where I begged Scarfy to put his beanie back on, and to obscure his hideous, acne-ridden face with a scarf. His questions seem especially stupid today, possibly due to the heat escaping from his noggin, or perhaps his case of Affleckitis.

Affleckitis is a disease that causes you to exponentially lose talent and intelligence over the course of five years until you give up on life and star in Pearl Harbor. There is no known cure.

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, and Curly McSue and I went out to Surly Bob's Barbeque Ribs Eatery and Tastytorium. I was going to take her to La Testarosa again for the best steak-and-potatoes dinner in the tri-state region, but my wallet was mysteriously empty and soaked in my own urine. In a way, Surly Bob's was better than La Testarosa. We got plastic bibs with cows on them, and all the handi-wipes we could eat! We left with full, sudsy bellies, and with thongs riding up our respective buttcracks. Then we retired to my apartment for French bread pizza and the oral sex.

I knew a girl once who gave the worst blowjobs known to mankind. I'm not kidding. It is documented in the Guinness Book of World Records right between The-World's-Tallest-Midget and The-World's-Longest-John-Denver-Album-(Pre-1982). The Human Vacuum Cleaner was going down on me one night and, as usual, it had been going on for two or three hours. I had finished the New York Times Crossword and was beginning to lose interest in the entire situation when, somehow, it managed to get worse. The teeth joined the party, at first sharply massaging, but eventually gnawing, on my member.

Why do they call a cock a "member?" What exclusive club did it join? More importantly, why didn't it tell me? My penis and I are tight. Best friends. Sometimes we hold hands. It doesn't seem right that I wasn't invited to the club. A "member?"

"I'm sorry." I had to cut it short. My mind was wandering to semantics, and I could feel myself going flaccid. She began to look embarrassed, so I told her that it always took me a long time, knowing full well that I usually have the staying power of a mid-season replacement sitcom starring Scott Baio as a sassy, mild-mannered reporter with one arm. And believe you me, that only lasted about forty seconds.

And somehow, Scarfy McGee still manages to suck more than that girl, and she was made by the fine folks at Dirt Devil.

No comments: