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Alex L. Explorer

Alex L.

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So Toby charged. Now, as I mentioned earlier these horse pens were thick with feces, so it was difficult to run. Luckily I was in the part of the pen where the mud wasn't deep, so I could at least manage a fumbling jog. By the time I reached the fence Toby was nearly on me. I tried to climb through but in my panic I touched one of the tension coils on the fence that kept the wire taught along the property line. Furthermore, I also touched the ground underneath the tension coil. This fence was electric and set at a voltage that could knock down an elephant, so when I grounded myself I got blasted with a shock that rendered me temporarily stunned. Fortunately I was jolted forward into the electric fence rather than backwards into the horse boner that was surging forward at 100 miles per hour. After a few more 20,000 volt shocks I managed to stumble into the opposing pen, half electrocuted but thankfully still a virgin to trans-species sex.

 

As for Toby, he continued to stare at me from his side of the fence, his aircraft-carrier-sized boner twinkling in the morning sun. I could see an undercurrent of sadness in his eyes, trickling somewhere below that massive desire to do some raping.

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CRed05 Apprentice

CRed05

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he continued to stare at me from his side of the fence, his aircraft-carrier-sized boner twinkling in the morning sun. I could see an undercurrent of sadness in his eyes, trickling somewhere below that massive desire to do some raping.

 

Thats just funny

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Guest Removed

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To the Thug Latino Guy With the Dumb Looking Mustache Who Tried to Mug Me in Downtown Columbus night before last:

 

I can only hope that you somehow come across this rather important message.

 

I was the guy wearing the black Burberry jacket that you demanded that I hand over, shortly after you pulled the knife on me and my girlfriend, threatening our lives. You also asked for my girlfriend's purse and earrings.

 

First, I'd like to apologize for your embarrassment; I didn't expect you to actually crap in your pants when I drew my pistol after you took my jacket. The evening was not that cold, and I was wearing the jacket for a reason. My girlfriend had just bought me that Kimber Model 1911 .45 ACP pistol for my birthday, and we had picked up a shoulder holster for it that very evening. Obviously you agree that it is a very intimidating weapon when pointed at your head ... Isn't it?!

 

I know it probably wasn't fun walking back to wherever you'd come from with that brown sludge in your pants.. I'm sure it was even worse walking bare-footed since I made you leave your shoes, cell phone, and wallet with me. [That prevented you from calling or running to your buddies to come help mug us again].

 

After I called your "Mami" as you had her listed in your cell, I explained the entire episode of what you'd done. Then I went and filled up my gas tank as well as those of four other people in the gas station, -- on your credit card. The guy with the big motor home took 150 gallons and was extremely grateful!

I gave your shoes to a homeless guy outside Vagabond, along with all the cash in your wallet. [That made his day!]

I then threw your wallet into the big pink "pimp mobile" that was parked at the curb ... After I broke the windshield and side window and keyed the entire driver's side of the car.

Later, I called a bunch of phone sex numbers from your cell phone. The phone company just now shut down the line, although I only used the phone for a little over a day now, so what 's going on with that? Earlier, I managed to get in two threatening phone calls to the DA's office and one to the FBI, while mentioning President Obama as my possible target.

The FBI guy seemed really intense and we had a nice long chat (I guess while he traced your number etc.).

 

In a way, perhaps I should apologize for not killing you ... But I feel this type of retribution is a far more appropriate punishment for your threatened crime. I wish you well as you try to sort through some of these rather immediate pressing issues, and can only hope that you have the opportunity to reflect upon, and perhaps reconsider, the career path you've chosen to pursue in life and the kind of crap that you put other people through every day.

 

Remember, next time you might not be so lucky.Have a good day!

Thoughtfully yours,

That Guy you tried to rob

 

P.S. Remember this motto ... An armed society makes a civil society!

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Alex L. Explorer

Alex L.

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So late one night I'm working and Rod Stewart is sitting behind me, typing away. The office was situated so that I faced a wall, and Rod Stewart sat against the opposing wall but facing me (so his back was to it). We worked in a windowless basement with all the servers, switches, and other networking equipment. He'd surrounded him with 8 computer monitors which formed a semicircle around his desk. I always figured he wore those tinted hunting glasses to shield the blinding light coming from those monitors. Normally Rod just did his thing and I did mine; we would talk every now and then, but there was very little overlap in our work. On this particular evening, however, Rod was unusually talkative. He walked over to my desk carrying the motherboard of a computer and asked me to read the small numbers printed on the side of the microprocessor, claiming that his far-sighted vision made it tough for him to read the tiny print. I read them and he went back to his desk. Soon after he fired off a question about programming, and when I turned around I noticed he had an old computer case sitting in his lap, which he appeared to be tinkering with. I answered his question and them resumed working. A few minutes later he asked another question, which I answered. These questions kept coming, always with a few minutes in between. It seemed that he was trying to make it obvious to me that he was working, because when you work you naturally always have a computer case in your lap and you ask your coworkers lots of questions. I didn't really figure out what was going on until I heard the sound of pennies.

 

Imagine the sound of a sack of pennies being shaken up and down, sort of like a "shick shick shick." Internet culture has declared the correct onomatopoeia I was hearing to be "fap fap fap," but I still think it sounds more like a shick than a fap. Soon after Rod Stewart asked me to list all the data types in the perl programming language, I began to take note of this penny-shick sound. It was fairly regular, but occasionally the rhythm would bump up a notch and the shicking would get pretty intense. It didn't take long for me to figure out that the wife-hating Rod Stewart was whacking off at work - his 8 monitors no doubt flooded with depraved pornography from the darkest corners of the internet. Over the years I've forced myself to believe that he was definitely looking at porn, because the thought of him looking at ME while masturbating would be enough nightmare material to span several lifetimes. So why the computer in his lap? This was all part of his brilliant plan to make it appear as if he was very busy.

 

I tried "accidentally" dropping one of my large perl books onto the floor, hoping that the loud slap of the cover on linoleum would shock Rod Stewart into ceasing, but unfortunately it only momentarily deterred the pennies from shaking.

 

At this point, I had a choice: I could turn around in a flash, point my finger and taunt the man whose lustful gaze was fixated on 800x600 pixels of god-knows-what, or I could keep working and pretending that life was a beautiful journey and there was no such thing as greasy mustached men who jerk off at work. If I turned around and called him on it, I might lose my job. If I sat there and kept working, I'd have to hear those pennies shake until Rod Stewart shot millions of sticky little Rod-Stewartlets into an empty computer case. Was that worth $8.00 an hour?

 

Apparently it was, because I took the sissy route and got the fuck out of there. Making sure every movement was slow and obvious, I grabbed my backpack and made my way to the exit, maintaining constant eye contact with the floor. I mumbled something to Rod Stewart about having to leave early that night, to which he over-enthusiastically replied "Great Matt! Thanks for all the hard work today!"

 

Rod may have won this time around, but I keep telling myself that one day he'll try that again and something will go horribly wrong. He'll be forced to go home and explain to his miserable wife how he got his penis caught in a CD-ROM drive. Who'll have the last laugh then, Mr. Stewart?

 

I will, you son of a bitch. I will.

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