Thank you for returning my porn watching jacket to me. No other article of clothing holds such importance for my daily routine, perhaps other than my masturbation scarf. I write to you now in a state of distress. Since my return to Florida, the land of abounding insanity, much has changed. The beauty of it's nature and the savageness of it's heat have begun to encompass me and they threaten to eclipse all that I am. Whether by some ancient curse upon the land or the bath salts in the water I cannot be certain, but my perversions have been stirred anew. Just the other day I chanced upon a young woman playing Settlers of Catan with her friends. A brilliant strategist, the maiden had gained total control of the game. I watched as she built road upon road enveloping her foes in a cloacal autobahn. Already titillated, I was then brought to the brink by a stunning trade wherein she exchanged one wool for three wood. In turn, I exchanged one facade of human dignity for one wood and I masturbated furiously. I already regret telling you that.
-Big Dog
Dearest Baberham Lincoln,
My search for a job is over! Though I regretfully leave behind my tenure at #funemployment, I have great hopes for my new position. I am now the head H.R. guy at a porn production company called General Genitals. My duties include reading resumes, interviewing new actors and actresses, and solving sexual harassment disputes within the company (these generally involve wayward ejaculate). I read a resume of some interest the other day that I will reproduce for you here:
Qualifications -
Fun loving, Great interpersonal skills, 7 inch asshole dilation, Problem solving, 15 words per minute while using butt to type, Squirt at a velocity of 12 fps (enough to kill a cat...this has been tested)
Experience -
- Head Guzzler for Cum Guzzlers I-III and V-VII
- Fluffer for Big Bears Don't Cry
- Crowned "bleacher fellatio queen" at nephew's 6th grade dance
- Big Dog
Dearest Baberham Lincoln,
Things have taken a turn for the worse. My boss, famed as the Vince McMahon of perversity, has taken an interest in my dog. He says that if I want to keep my job I must relinquish my dog to him. It feels as if I am somehow living in a first draft of Indecent Proposal if it were written by a dog. I have asked Charlton Barkley's opinion on this a number of times, but he merely stares back at me. His silence belies a terrible secret. This is the hardest pain to abide.
-Not So Big Dog
Dearest Baberham Lincoln,
I have become woebegone to the point of disturbing the people around me. The other day a woman crop-dusted me with a megaphone in order to cheer me up. People are actually altering their daily routines to arrest my melancholy! I fear lest these gestures become increasingly grand. If someone were to organize a flash mob for my sake or get me a speaking role on Mad Men, I just might kill myself.
- Big Dog
Dearest Baberham Lincoln,
Will my sorrows know no end? I feel like a dying swan in puberty, my swan song marred by the cracking of my voice, punctuated by the occasional bursting of my pimples, and confused by my constant erection. There is an unrelenting sickness of the soul within me, much like gonorrhea. Would you blame a man on his deathbed for taking his own life?
- Big Dog
Dearest Baberham Lincoln,
Today I lost all my money. As is my wont, I spent the afternoon watching and betting on child boxing. The five to seven age group is my favorite. Similar to college sports, these kids don't play for money; they play for pride...and candy. I wagered my upcoming paycheck on a certain Samantha Velasquez, a hard-hitting six year old who had cut weight to contend in the ultra-ultra-ultra light weight division. She put up a fight, scrapping, juking, and tattletaling her opponent to tears. Nevertheless, she went down in the 8th round to an obscene uppercut. Watching her fall, I too fell into the irrevocable realization that I cannot endure this life any longer. I shall carry the memory of your sweet tush with me as I pass into the void. Goodbye.
- Big Dog
No comments:
Post a Comment