I’ma Find Her Cat and Fuck It

December 12, 2012

[GARY 1 and GARY 2 are at the bar drinking gin and tonics. Their unfortunate clothes indicate that they are not busy or vital men.]

Gary 1: BURRRRP!

Gary 2: Yes!

Gary 1: Hey man. I saw something bad. I wasn’t going to tell you but I figure I should because we’re friends.

Gary 2: Tell me immediately.

Gary 1: Are we friends?

Gary 2: Yes, we are friends, of course. Who else am I friends with if I’m not friends with you. Tell me right now please.

Gary 1: I was outside the Skyline, the one on I-75, just carrying on and being a righteous dude, and I saw Angie.

Gary 2: How is that lizard?

Gary 1: Real good, it looked like. Nice clothes, good hair, smiling a lot. She was on a date. With a hangbot. Do you want any more details?

Gary 2: Give me all the details.

Gary 1: Her finger was in his mouth and she was petting him like a kitten. She was wearing a cool-looking hangbot-y jean jacket, it’s his, I’m sure, and they were falling over, so, not sober. They probably just got out of a hangbot party in Trotwood, and she kept whispering things in his ear, probably stuff she wanted to do to him later on, like give him a beej, and he kept saying, Niiiice, like he was real happy about it.

Gary 2: She’s good at beejes. Do you know who he is?

Gary 1: At first, no, I didn’t. All those hangbots look alike. But then Darryl’s Dad came up to him and said, Hey Cody!, or, What’s up, Cody! So it’s probably Cody. Cody actually seems pretty cool, man, I’m sorry.

Gary 2: I am sure he is REAL cool to be eating five-ways with that lizard.

Gary 1: You said you wanted to know.

Gary 2: Well I have to do something about this.

Gary 1: No, you don’t.

Gary 2: I think I do.

Gary 1: You really don’t man, just forget it.

Gary 2: Here’s what I want to do: Angie goes to the laundromat on Sunday nights, after Family Guy usually. I’ll wait there for her, nab her, and put her in my trunk. I’ll have rubbing alcohol on a hanky and I’ll put over her face real hard and say, “You made me do this!” or something cool, and shove her in my trunk and close the trunk door.

We’ll drive to my folks’ old place in Miamisburg. I’ll take her out of the trunk and drag her by her blond lizard hair into the garage.

My pops has miles of rope in there, at least he used to, and I’ll take the rope and tie her to the riding lawnmower so she can’t go anywhere.

Gary 1: So far, so good.

Gary 2: Then I’ll strip her down and cover her with gasoline.

Gary 1: Whoa, whoa dude.

Gary 2: I’m not going to burn her. I only want her to think I’m going to.

Next, I’ll take six feet of rope, grease it up with Skyline, and shove it down her throat, through her stomach and out her little asshole.

And she’ll be like, “I’m sorry, I’ve made so many mistakes, I have been so deceitful and so cruel to you.”

I’ma roll her into a ball and tie her to the tetherball pole in the backyard and punch her face.

I’ma pour ginger ale on her and leave her tied to the pole overnight so the raccoons can gnaw at her.

I’ma shave her head and eyebrows and draw cumming dicks everywhere with a Sharpie.

I’ma grate her tits off with a cheese grater and then sew on two tiny patches that say CUNT where her tits used to be. Everyone will call her “Cunt Tits.” At least until she takes the patches off.

I’ma tie the volleyball net around her and make her real small and squeeze her little lizard face into my asshole and then slowly pull it out like anal beads, and then again, and again, all the while cumming real hard on that framed picture of us at Grant Park she gave me for Christmas last year. That’s when she made me wear that bullshit sweater with huge buttons she gave me that she knew I would hate.

I’ma slice her lips and ears with a broken beer bottle and cover her face with Tabasco sauce, and then leave her tied up outside again so the raccoons can get at her.

I’ma fart on her. She hates that.

I’ma tell her about all her friends I mosted. I’ve mosted six: Lesley. C.C., Dana. Pam. Fat Becca. Andrea.

I’ma find her cat who’s been lost for a year and is probably dead—and if it’s dead I’ma dig it up or get it out of the lanfill—and fuck its dead face in front of her. I’ll call you over and you’ll fuck it too if you want.

Gary 1: Hey man, don’t rope me into this sickness.

Gary 2: You said you were my friend.

We’ll cut it up and sell it on the street in a little lemonade stand-type shack. We’ll say it’s lamb nibblets. She’ll be tied up inside, with her face in front of the garage door window, and she’ll have to watch as her friends and neighbors walk by and eats our nibblets. They’ll say, “How tender!” “What a delicious treat!” And she’ll be thinking, That’s not lamb, that’s my cat, boo hoo hoo, I’m a slut.

I’ma gnaw her abnormally large clit until it’s thin as floss and then floss my back molars, the hard-to-get ones. I’ma floss real hard so blood gets everywhere, all over her vag, and for once her vag will be covered in my blood, and not my dick covered in her blood.

I’ma fill her little asshole with 151 and Coke, and light it on fire and drink it.

Gary 1: That’s called a Flaming Dr. Pepper.

Gary 2: YEAH NO SHIT, I saw it on Real World.

I’ma take her inside and sit next to her on the couch and we can watch some TV, whatever she wants. Princess Diaries, whatever.

I’ma make pour her an Ultra Light.

I’ma make out with her real slow, tell her she’s a gorgeous lady, and then propose marriage.

Gary 1: Would you still marry her after everything?

Gary 2: Of course I would. Who’s better than Angie?



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