Tuesdays With Morrie

There are certain stains that can’t be justified in my life, concerning one’s memory, my brain is tie dyed with stains, bleached in my consciousness, so I am.

I let an old man tug at my dick for a hundred bucks, and I slapped his cheeks and came over his face, and felt good, and bought an eighth and some Xanax. Then for some reason I kicked him in the teeth, I was naked except for my Doc Martins. The combination of nakedness and old flesh made me want to kill. So I kicked the old man hard, across the side of his face, and blood showed. I felt accomplished, and the alcohol enticed my veins, so I kicked his ribs, he started to whimper, so I tried to harden up, because I wanted to abuse and jizz over this old guy.

Let it be known this dude was a child molester, I felt as if I’d stumbled upon a great wreath of opportunity, but, my friends, I am nothing if not a monster, I’ve admitted, don’t be surprised. I beat the shit out this senior until he twitched.

In the morning, we both woke up in the same bed, I told the old dude, “Don’t make a sound or I’ll beat the shit out of you” and he said “Alright.”

So I fucked his prostate until it pushed back, and he pissed himself.

The only difference between a drunk genius and a drunk asshole is the asshole probably runs a business.


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