you fuckin kids get out'a my yard!

You know what chaps my fuckin ass? It’s when I’m at work taking a shit and I hear the muthafucker in the next stall shitting so hard that it sounds like a phone directory being ripped in half, then I hear em walk out the bathroom without washing their hands. Nasty louse ridden diseased cocksuckers. Here’s an interesting theory for your asses. I’ve seemed to notice that the higher up the food chain the nasty muthafucker’s are, the less hand washing they do. What is that, some kind of alpha male dominance thing? “I boss of you! I rub my shit-infested hands all over you! You’re all my bitches”!!

Much to my intense chagrin today is bring your kid to work day, and if I had remembered, it would have been stay my ass at home day. I mean for a cat that don’t have kids, and ain’t around the little masturbators, I sure as fuck attract em. I swear I must look like some bigassed plush toy to em. Somebody once told me that little kids recognize my innate goodness. That’s all good but I just wish they’d do it from a distance. Plus little kids scare the fuck out’a me. I remember one year I was over a friends house visiting and her little two-year-old girl hopped on the couch next to me. She stood up and dropped her drawers and said, “gregbeck, see my monkey? I got a monkey”. I fucking freaked the fuck out. I looked at her mother who was just sitting there calmly watching me, she told me to acknowledge to the little girl that I see her monkey and to say thank you. So I told the little girl that I see her monkey and to put her drawers back on. Then I told her that the only person that she should show her monkey too is her mother. The thing that scared me the most was what if I saw them in a shopping mall and here comes the little girl running toward me screaming, “ gregbeck saw my monkey, gregbeck saw my monkey”! Explain that shit to mall security.

Then there was another friend who had small kids whose daughter decided one day after I “booed” her that she wasn’t ever going to speak around me again. That shit lasted from when she was around eight till she was almost seventeen. It was the weirdest shit; I hung out with her mother and father for years and the girl would never speak in my presence. If she needed to speak to her mother whilst I was in the room she’d either whisper in her mom’s ear or write a fuckin note. I’d ask her mom if she even liked me and her mother would tell me that when I wasn’t there she’d talk about me all the time. Committed little snapperhead. And don’t even get me going on my nightmare baby-sitting story.


gbeck@kc.rr.com says, "and the monkey flipped the switch"