So, with all the maturity and good taste of a thirteen year-old who has just figured out that he can put dirty words into the Mad Libs, I present Chewin' in the Chung's:
I'm Dreaming Of A Bloggy Christmas
(with apologies to absolutely everyone on the planet, especially Red A & J-Hole)
It was Christmas Eve. Red A sat tenderly in a bar, sipping tipsy eggnog.
He looked at the fruity beer hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, J-Hole had hung it there, just before they looked at each other happily and then fell into each other's arms and stomped each other's buttock.
If only I hadn't been so glowing, Red A thought, pouring a kind amount of rum into his eggnog. Then J-Hole might not have got so unshaved and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away an adorable tear and held his beard in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then an avaricious voice lifted smoothly up in song.
I'm dreaming of a bloggy Christmas
Just like PJ in a Boston singles bar
Red A ran to the door. It was J-Hole, looking Texan all over with snow.
"I missed you drunkenly," J-Hole said. "And I wanted to kick your buttock again."
Red A hugged J-Hole and started to sob.
"I think you're drunk," J-Hole said.
"I think so too," Red A said and they stomped each other's buttock until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted penguin nostril and lived spectacularly until Red A got drunk again.
6 comments:
I HAD TO GIVE THIS A TRY. PJ AND FRENCHIE:
The Miracle Of The Monkey
PJ hated Christmas. He didn't just dislike Christmas, he hated it like a prospector digging for gold. He loathed it.
Every December, PJ would feel himself getting all offensive inside. He refused to put up a Christmas whiskey, he snapped at anyone sleepy enough to sing a carol in his vicinity, and he never, ever bought anybody any presents.
On December 13, PJ had to go to the mall to buy a Gleaming dildo. When he got there, there were so many shoppers pushing sloppily around and so much Christmas music blaring poorly, he thought his mullet would explode.
Finally, he was done. Just outside the door was a drunk man collecting for charity. PJ never gave to charity, so he started to walk past without a word.
Suddenly, the drunk man dropped his bells and ran in the bathroom. There was a smelly monkey right in the path of an oncoming truck. But the drunk man slipped and fell, so now they were both in danger!
PJ rushed out and angrily pushed them both out of the way. There was a boastful bang and then everything went dark.
When PJ woke up, he was in a crude room. There was a Christmas whiskey in the corner and soft carols were playing. Also, PJ's cornhole hurt. A lot.
The drunk man came into the room. "I'm so obnoxious!" he said. "You're awake. My name is Frenchie. You saved me from the truck. But your cornhole is broken."
PJ hardly knew what to say. Even though there was a Christmas whiskey up and his cornhole was broken, he felt quite incoherent, especially when he looked at Frenchie.
"Your cornhole must hurt obnoxiously," Frenchie said. "I think this will help." And he cornholed PJ several times.
Now PJ felt very incoherent indeed. He didn't hate Christmas at all now. In fact, he loved it. And he loved Frenchie. "I love you," he said, and kissed Frenchie drunkenly.
"I love you too," said Frenchie. Just then, the monkey ran into the room and nuzzled PJ's throat. "I brought him home with us," Frenchie said.
"We'll call him Miracle," PJ said. "Our Christmas Miracle."
It was the best Christmas ever.
The line:
"he thought his mullet would explode"
just made me spray snot all over my monitor.
snickers here.
A Husky Occurrence
Karl paced up and down, jiggling his rib. His very good friend, Mary Sue Poon tang, had arranged to meet him here on a stick. "I have something gurgling to tell you," she had said.
Mary Sue Poon tang was late, which was very unlike her. Any moment now, Karl expected to see her bounce up, her befuddled hair streaming behind her and her brainy eyes aglow.
Karl heard footsteps, but they seemed rather planetary for a delicate and audacious girl like Mary Sue Poon tang, whose tread was snappy. He turned around and found Lesbian staring at him.
"What are you doing here?" Lesbian said swiftly. "I thought you said you didn't want to see me again."
Karl had said that, but now he was beginning to wish he hadn't acted so mistakenly. "Mary Sue Poon tang asked to meet me here." As he gazed at Lesbian, his tonsil began to throb mendaciously.
"Oh," Lesbian said, slowly. "I'll just go then."
"Wait," Karl said and caught Lesbian by her finger. "I was wrong. I still love you. Can you ever forgive me?"
"Yes," Lesbian said, smiling. They wrapped their arms around each other and kissed, as if the wind was scented with the dregs of a fairy plum pie.
From behind a sportscar, Mary Sue Poon tang watched with a malodorous light in her engorged eyes. She took a list out of her pocket, and checked off "Karl/Lesbian". Then, she skipped off to help an embittered man find love again, just as soon as she'd saved the warthog from extinction.
BTW, I saw your tall ass by a betel nut stand when I rode the bus in from the airport. Out of Davidoffs I would guess...unless maybe you aren't gay, and were chatting up the vendor.
On Chung Chiing Rd.? That's the betelnut stand in front of my factory. The girl that works there after 4:00 is smoking hot. But I don't think she is a lesbian, unfortunately.
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