Habaner0 and FATTY_MCFUCKFACE have cheated the living fuck out of death.
Habaner0
Regular
TUFFNESS has now achieved INVINCIBILITY
AKA The Story all about How Habanero and FATTY_MCFUCKFACE almost died.
It was a tranquil Tucson summer night. At 1 AM, FATTY and myself ingested a nice cocktail of 3mg DOI and 25mg 2C-E, with the intention of a fun night of walking around town and dumpster diving.
All was good at first. We found a floor lamp, a bunch of spaghetti, a toy fireman's hat (fuck yeah!) and a box of aluminum foil. Having found all we could really quite carry, we were on our way back to domicile. There was an amusing night ahead involving the execution of a wanted terrorist.
Of course, some butt-knocker just HAD to get in our way, at around 2:25 AM. All we wanted to do was peacefully cross the sidewalk. We were run-n-gunning across the crosswalk – having the obvious right of way – with everyone else coming to a stop, except this drunk fucker in a bird-shit covered green piece of shit beat-up Islamic rag-head (convertible) Mustang. He did not have the common sense to stop, because he was an alcohol-soaked spunk bubble. Was he this stupid, or did he take lessons?
Since we don't know this butt burglar's name, he will hereon be referred as James Van Der Douche (JVDD for short.)
Motherfucker missed me, but FATTY had to do some evasive maneuvers to avoid getting head-on bird-shit residue stuck to his freshly dry-cleaned INFIDEL T-Shirt. This was while coming up on the aforementioned cocktail. We're shitting enough bricks over this on its own that the hallucinogens are only turning our bricks into concrete blocks.
GUESS THE FUCK WHAT, ASSWIPE? Motorcycle cop directly behind Van Der Douche.
Next you want to do a drunk hit and run, check your six first. Get some driving lessons, asshole!
Fucking TROUNCE of the CENTURY up in here! Fuck yeah to the boys in blue! We're buying them a giant box of doughnuts as a thank you for making us invincible. In the immortal words of a certain Christopher Engborg, “copes like [us] lol!”
So we just cheated death whilst hallucinogenic drugs are barging their way up to our brains like an 757 plowing into the World Trade Center, and are just chillin out maxin SHITTING BRICKS while we watch the cop interrogate this delinquent. Moments later, this most professional officer strides up to us. Ever professional and respectful, the law enforcement officer firmly shook FATTY's hand, now belonging to an invincible demigod who happens to be an INFIDEL. In a most grave tone, he says: “You two almost died from a drunk driver.”
The really fucked up part about this was that moments before crossing this intersection, FATTY and myself had traded jokes about getting hit by a drunk butt-knocker and suing the fuck out of him.
Anyway, so yeah, James Van Der Douche here got his ass arrested and thrown in the fucking drunk tank and left to cry to his mommy. In the meantime, FATTY and myself have unfinished errands to attend to such as spreading some good old fashioned justice around.
Van der douche should've blown a breathalyzer before driving, now he's going blowing his cellmate Tyrese Le-a (the dash don't be silent!)
No way no how motherfucker! Fuck with the TUFF SQUAD and we STACK FUCKS LIKE YOU FIVE FEET HIGH!
AKA The Story all about How Habanero and FATTY_MCFUCKFACE almost died.
It was a tranquil Tucson summer night. At 1 AM, FATTY and myself ingested a nice cocktail of 3mg DOI and 25mg 2C-E, with the intention of a fun night of walking around town and dumpster diving.
All was good at first. We found a floor lamp, a bunch of spaghetti, a toy fireman's hat (fuck yeah!) and a box of aluminum foil. Having found all we could really quite carry, we were on our way back to domicile. There was an amusing night ahead involving the execution of a wanted terrorist.
Of course, some butt-knocker just HAD to get in our way, at around 2:25 AM. All we wanted to do was peacefully cross the sidewalk. We were run-n-gunning across the crosswalk – having the obvious right of way – with everyone else coming to a stop, except this drunk fucker in a bird-shit covered green piece of shit beat-up Islamic rag-head (convertible) Mustang. He did not have the common sense to stop, because he was an alcohol-soaked spunk bubble. Was he this stupid, or did he take lessons?
Since we don't know this butt burglar's name, he will hereon be referred as James Van Der Douche (JVDD for short.)
Motherfucker missed me, but FATTY had to do some evasive maneuvers to avoid getting head-on bird-shit residue stuck to his freshly dry-cleaned INFIDEL T-Shirt. This was while coming up on the aforementioned cocktail. We're shitting enough bricks over this on its own that the hallucinogens are only turning our bricks into concrete blocks.
GUESS THE FUCK WHAT, ASSWIPE? Motorcycle cop directly behind Van Der Douche.
Next you want to do a drunk hit and run, check your six first. Get some driving lessons, asshole!
Fucking TROUNCE of the CENTURY up in here! Fuck yeah to the boys in blue! We're buying them a giant box of doughnuts as a thank you for making us invincible. In the immortal words of a certain Christopher Engborg, “copes like [us] lol!”
So we just cheated death whilst hallucinogenic drugs are barging their way up to our brains like an 757 plowing into the World Trade Center, and are just chillin out maxin SHITTING BRICKS while we watch the cop interrogate this delinquent. Moments later, this most professional officer strides up to us. Ever professional and respectful, the law enforcement officer firmly shook FATTY's hand, now belonging to an invincible demigod who happens to be an INFIDEL. In a most grave tone, he says: “You two almost died from a drunk driver.”
The really fucked up part about this was that moments before crossing this intersection, FATTY and myself had traded jokes about getting hit by a drunk butt-knocker and suing the fuck out of him.
Anyway, so yeah, James Van Der Douche here got his ass arrested and thrown in the fucking drunk tank and left to cry to his mommy. In the meantime, FATTY and myself have unfinished errands to attend to such as spreading some good old fashioned justice around.
Van der douche should've blown a breathalyzer before driving, now he's going blowing his cellmate Tyrese Le-a (the dash don't be silent!)
No way no how motherfucker! Fuck with the TUFF SQUAD and we STACK FUCKS LIKE YOU FIVE FEET HIGH!
:mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad::mad:
Comments
^^SUP
^^Crying to mommy while in the back of the paddy-waggon
:mad:
Glad you're okay but still LAWL!
lawl, laugh while you can
we just left your sheik in the middle of the road:
he's going to get run the fuck over because he was driving drunk on 9/11.
Do I (with FATTY backing me) decide to sue the living fuck out of this guy?
Even if there's really no real chance of getting any money, it'd be one hell of a learning experience (:hai::hai::hai:) to go through with. Lawsuits are American culture dammit.
And I have post traumatic stress and emotional distress. I gotta go get medically evaluated.
Guys, I opened my mail yesterday and got a papercut.....I was a helluva lot closer to death and danger then you posers were.
You peeps must really party hearty and rock-n-roll out there....when the most memorable thing that happened to you in an evening is walking across the street and NOT getting hit by a car....... so eventful you decided to post about it on a message board. :fap:
What do you do for an encore for Saturday nights? Get the munchies and wolf down a dozen donuts.....and then proudly boast to Totse how you didn't even choke on one bite! :eek:
Translated
Honestly I bet I'm not that far off from reality here.
P.S. ELL OH FUCKEN ELL.
Btw, sue the shit out of him. It's the American way.
go back to posting.