It’s a gloomy, yet surprisingly bright Wednesday. Our hero was just coming to his senses. Where was he, why did it smell like bologna throughout his room and why was there a hooker passed out on his bed? Hugging his trillion thread count quilt against her naked, and street hardened body. Before calling the cops on her he took all of the money out of her purse so no one could prove he paid for anything. Captain Zap had never been a fan of the condom and his wenis shone as bright as the sun that morning. He’d been burned, thank goodness for the super fast healing.
Something dropped…
Captain Zap was now dealing with the consequences of way too much drinking and annihilating too much from Chipotle’s. There would be no smiles, just pain. From a mile away you could hear the squeak of the struggle and the heel of his foot digging into the tile. Then, just like a slow kiss with a fat woman who just downed some Cheetos; it was over. Zap chose to stand for a while, because it hurt too much to sit. He said it felt like sitting on a bear’s teeth.
Our hero heads to work, on his way he intentionally avoids recognizing an old friend because he dislikes “the stop-and-chat.”
Was there enough time before work to stop and get a Croissanwich? Yes, even though he would be late, there had to be enough time. F**k it, make it two!
He had to call his bank to check his account balance. “Please press one to continue your phone call in English…” He hung up the phone.
He complimented an ugly woman, it was his “good thing” for the day. She soaked right through her valour pants and an old woman slipped and fell. Bless you Captain Zap.
Senator Ted Kennedy’s death troubled Captain Zap, “Why the hell is this all over the media? Who are you?!”
As my own hunger grows I have to cut this story short… I promise it’s going somewhere… to be updated later (just proving I’m still alive)
5 years ago
No comments:
Post a Comment