Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Stay away from me, you damn dirty raptor (Conclusion)

mystical retard

tobbogan boy and smeagol

Our favorite things


So Mystery is calling these bail bondsman places, and is getting the same answer:

A) "Smeagol owes me money, where is he at so I can apprehend him when he gets loose?" This is usually followed by Mystery hanging up, ensuring if they have caller id I will now be harrassed on a daily basis.

B) "I need a cosigner who is not you." This always ended with Mystery giving me a hopeful stare and saying something like "Well I don't want to ask you because you might say no but would you cosign on a bail bond to get Smeagol out of jail?" At which point I get a flashing picture of all the debt I would undoubtedly incur once Smeagol raptors bail, I mean come on we all know he has no intention of going to court, there is not a courthouse on the planet that would knowingly allow a raptor to continue infesting it's streets with his cloak of failure, right?

C) >click<

Also note that Smeagol is calling every 6 or 7 minutes, and is raptoring it up about why havent we gotten him out of jail yet. If I cared at all I would feel sorry for them but I hate Mystery and now Smeagol for leaving her at my house so I sit there like a jerk and brood because I am not going to get to make hand party to pornographies. I then notice Mystery is sitting on my pillow, the one I use in my bed to lay my damn head on. An intense wave of nausea comes over me and I look away to resist vomiting all over the laptop I stole from work. I can almost see the bacteria and fungus transferring itself onto my pillow and make a mental note to swap out pillows so my wife ends up sleeping on it.

Finally, after almost an hour of calling, she lights on someone who has bailed Smeagol out before, and he agrees to do it again. For some reason he wants to talk to me, though why or how he even know I was there was beyond me, unless he had the caller id I keeps hearin bout, ahyuck!

This guy's voice sounds like he is talking through a trachea pipe with a half pound of tobacco stuffed in it. I have to get him to repeat himself numerous times because I could not understand him. He wants to meet me in Platte City, as he called the jail in our town and Smeagol had already been moved, probably because the officer came into direct contact with Smeagol's thong and had had to run to the hospital with Influenzitic failureclokius, a fatal disease that can cause nausea, upset stomach, rectal bleeding, smalcock, runny nose and painful ass warts. Contact your doctor if you experience any decrease in sex appeal or energy, as it could be the early signs of raptoritis, a serious side effect of taking Influifail.

I have 3 little boys in bed, and no intention of waking them up to bother with Smeagol. Mystery calls Smeags to inform him of this, and I can hear his thong shaking angrily over the phone. They finaly light on the idea of getting my dad to do it, and get ahold of him and about a half hour later he shows up. He is in full douche mode, which is understandable since he works 12 hours a day and still makes a hair under half of what I do and I am a lazy bastage.

He informs Mystery that he wants all of Smeagols contact information before she even touches his car, as if Smeagol tries to jump bail my dad will hunt him down and take him to jail himself. Whatev, hunting down a North American Smeagol when he knows you are coming is not a task undertaken lightly.

We get to Platte City, go through the rigamarole of bailing him out there, then watch as he gets about 11 seconds of freedom and is rearrested and sent to Kansas City, luckily their NKC branch, the bumblebee building, and bail him out there, for a total of 7 hours that I had to endure either Mystery's idiocy or Smeagol. Why did I go along, you might ask? My asshole dad informed me when he showed up that if I did not go to keep him company he would leave Mystery at my house and I could deal with her. Such a threat shook me to my spine, so I was at his mercy.

We finally get Smeagol all bailed out, and I paid everyone (including Smeagol, which I just realized he does not own a car anymore... heyyyy) gas money, and we get dropped off at my house. Smeagol goes inside, straight to the fridge and drinks the rest of my orange juice and takes my last Smirnoff. I like how he feels comfortable enough to raptor my damn things whenever the fancy strikes him, but damn!

"Listen niggie if you don't feel like driving we can stay here tonight" Smeagol moaned, not at all sounding like a guy, slurping my orange juice throught the side of his mouth so I could only see 1 tooth... I inform him that even if it meant me not gettin to sleep and having to go straight to work I would drive them home. I will post an update when Smeagol jumps bail, but for now this is the end of this tale.

Smeagol's Picture

OK remember when I told you all that I took this photo on the covert? Well it did not turn out so great so bear with me, I will try another one in a brighter environment. It seems that even in a brightly lit kitchen his cloak of failure creates an aura of failure so strong and vast it messes up the camera... enjoy what you can see:

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