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I GOTTA PISS!
2003-03-13 - 2:18 p.m.


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Today.

I think it was today.

It might have been yesterday.

Anyway, I was in the grocery fuckin' store lookin' for a birthday card for the old man.  Last year I called him on his birthday, and called it good.  Well, I did.  The old bastard got all crusty with me.

"Why are you calling?  What's wrong?"  he said.

"Nothing, nothing.  Just calling to wish you a happy birthday.  Convey unto you birthday wishes."  I said.

"What?  Why are you calling?"  he repeated himself.

So, someone opted out of the birthday call this year.  I don't make these rules, I just abide by them.

Anyway, old grumpy get no callie.

And I'm at the fuckin' grocery store, lookin' for a card, with a lot of trouble, really, come to think about it.  This one woman had the birthday section barricaded with her graying old bulk and her grocery cart.  I asked her to move twice, and reached over her thrice.

Maybe twice.  I just wanted to say 'thrice'.  Thricethricethrice.

I ate rice thrice with ice.  It was nice. Sat next to a man with lice.  Then we tossed dice.

He said he had to go to the lab, because he had genes to splice.

Anyway.

I reached over the rude and stupid woman, found the goddam card in the fuckin' grocery store, turn to go buy my shit, and I hear the approaching sounds of an elderly couple.

Battling.

And it amuses me.  So I listen in.

"I'm going to go get...some cookies...I'm going to go to...the cookie section..."  the little old ladie propped up by her cart said.

"...well GO THEN!"  the old man thundered.

And I was choking back the motherfucking laughter.  Its like, you know, you KNOW, those fuckers are doing that twenty four /seven, for like, years and years and years now.

Every day over dinner.  Later as she scrapes around to feed the cat.

"I'm going to...feed the cat."

"Well GO THEN!"

Something tells me my vices were doing me a better service than I originally thought. Yeah, lets all live to be that old.  Actually, if I made it to the nursing home, I would be well stocked in viagra, and banging all kinds of grey haired quiff like a mad old motherfucker.  Swanky menage a trois granpa'.

Cover me in velvet.  Cum rag in my pocket.

Making the nurses wash my cock repeatedly. --'Its not CLEAN enough.'

Anyway, had dinner with the 'rents tonight.

Mother was nattering around, doin' shit, I don't know.  Clucking, I like to call it.  Getting things ready for dinner, yes, but like, talking about nothing while she does it.  Just kinda' chattering, but not really.  I'm not sure she needs attention at those moments, or any kind of coherent response.

But I did catch part of it.

"Well...I think we're ready for dinner.  Almost ready.  I think we're ready.  What do you think?  Do you think were ready?"  she said, talking to my father.

*some unintelligble muttering from father*

"What?  What did you say?"  she said.

"I GOTTA' PISS!"  said father.

I fuckin' laughed my ass off.


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