booty ass OT
is a bitch motherfucker
but where's the Prelude?
So I get a call from JJ on Friday, while I was busy not posting to my blog, and he related this fantastical tale that I thought I might share.
Apparently Smeagol's happily ever after with his Prelude of Justice was short lived. Kudos to the one who can remember when he actually bought the Prelude, I think it was like 3 weeks ago but I could be wrong. Anyway, Smeagol shows up at my mom's house....on the Metro. As you should all know, the Metro is full of homeless people, winos and hookers. Smeagol hates homeless people, and winos. The hookers are fine. But knowing that Smeagol hates the unfortunate so much, him riding the bus means something drastic had happened.
Had the authorities found out his temp tag that doesn't expire for 3 years was a fake?
Had he been in another hit and run?
Did he fall asleep and someone took his car and maybe stick a carrot in his asshole to stem the flow of funk?
Apparently not. JJ watched with interest as Smeagol hobbled up to the house, moaning in either sadness or ecstacy, you can never tell with him.
"Heeeeyyyy niiggie," he cawed, "can you give me a ride home? Mmmmmmmmm...."
Smeagol went on to inform JJ that his car had run out of gas and a tail light had gone out. The fact that for just a tiny bit more than he had spent on the bus and what he should be giving JJ to make a 40 mile round trip in a car that only gets 15 MPG he could remedy those issues was apparently lost on that wily raptor. He informed JJ that he could finish what he was doing and that he would go in and fill his toilet and catch a quick snooze, which meant he had planned on taking a raptor dump and then stripping down to his thong and laying spread eagle on the couch, but we all know that by now.
And so JJ, who had his girl coming over later, drove Smeagol all the way home for the sum of 3 dollarinos. QUestions at this point abound. What was Smeagol doing south of the river when he worked only 3 blocks from his house? Why did he not have JJ help him push his car either home (as it was not there when they got there) or to the gas station like any normal person would have done? Where did the three dollars come from? Why did I wake up with a nasty itch and a burning sensation in my trousers? All good questions that must be answered.
I'm sure you all have theories, and I'm sure most if not all of them have something to do with the local constabulary corps, and I will try to find out; the problem is Smeagol is incredibly unreliable, as should be referenced by him being fired numerous times from his old nursing home job for various reasons, including my favorite, taking his doberman pinscher and allowing her to bite people. It probably was nowhere near as dramatic as you are picturing, but I like to picture Smeagol, wearing a cowboy hat much too small for him, curled up like a cockroach on the floor in the corner while the dog drags some terrified old lady by... great things.