Thursday, December 6, 2007

Mystical Retard......Strikes Again!

The perm is nasty

the teeth are gone; it's Smeags life

He sings his own song

Mystical Retard

It's Thanksgiving, which means everyone was going to meet at whoever had the most utilities turned on that year. My mom had just moved and got free lights, so it was her house as Smeagol did not buy any food and my meager Burger King paychecks were only enough to keep me in prowings and too tight Walmart shorts.

We head on over, and Jeff is out front of my mother's house, giving everyone crap as they try to get past him, telling us there is a cover charge, that we better start calling him "Father", or "Sir", if we wanted to eat, just being his usual self. Smeagol is trying to Raptor sneak past him, and Jeff grabs him and gives him a hug, which Smeagol hates, and says to him "Hey Bob! Happy Thanksgiving!"

It is almost eerily quiet as we hear the primal rage of a tiny kitten scream of fury bubbling up in Smeagol's throat, bursting forth in a cavalcade of bad breath and anger: "Don't call me Bob!" Smeagol squeaks indignantly. Mystery continued to stare at a kitten walking around in my mom's house, no doubt intent on strangling it.

Jeff instantly turns from a total douche to a total douche with an attitude that would make most psychiatrists mark him down as a total schizo. "Don't you sass me, boy, I'll kick your ass! This is your mother's house, you will show me the respect I'm due!" Which was funny because Jeff had no job, no prospects in life and always smelled like bacon and idiot.

I break them up, and we head inside, to where the Mystical Retard is putting the finishing touches on our feast, all of which was fried. MMMmmmMMm! Clogged arteries! We sit down and Smeagol starts grabbing as much food as he can while the rest of us wait for my mom's Mystical Prayer that, during her crack years, made absolutely no sense and usually destroyed any remnants of appetite we had:

"Lord Jesus we thank you for all this food, it gonna taste so gooooodd, just like Jeff's dick. I lick my chops after sucking that nasty mutherfucker off, thank you for making the bacon crispy, because I don't like it when it's limp, this food is so spiritual..." she droned on in the background, completely oblivious to the physical world or the mortal realm, and here Smeagol is already starting to fill up a second plate, as we all know the life of a raptor with a bad perm negates manners, it is "get all you can while the gettins good" in Raptorville, Smeagol Village too.

Jeff slaps Smeagol's claw, and informs him that the rest of us are waiting, and he can wait too. He huddles in his chair and grunts with displeasure, sneering since he had taken the choice parts of the meat.

Mom got done fellating the Holy Father, and promising to fellate Jeff as soon as the table was cleared, and told Smeagol he should have waited and he was "so dis-RE-Seeeeeeeeeekful"...Smeagol glared at her and informed her that perhaps she should do the world a favor and kill herself. My mom countered with the following nonsensical speech:

"You better be lucky I feel so spiritual on this special day, I don't like how you keep disrespecting me, you know? I'm a lady, and I don't want to see that kind of stuff going on in my house. Keep it in the basement, because the face ain't lookin'!" and with that she calmly started eating, leaving the rest of us completely confused. What the fuck was she talking about?!

Later my mom went upstairs to smoke some mystical crack, and I settled down with JJ to play Ready to Rumble, which had just come out on the Dreamcast. Smeagol was still fuming, curled up in the corner of the couch like a smelly hairless cat (except for the perm) sleeping angrily, and Mystery was sitting at the dining room table, which had been cleared off (with no help from her) staring off into space. We left when he heard Jeff saying loudly "Yeah suck it you bitch suck it!"

Back to the saga of Smeagol and Erica tomorrow.

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