write me, my dog (writememydog) wrote,
write me, my dog

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Day One: The lives of madmen are easier than this, they have the benefit of madness to cover the madness, the filth and disgust, that they're living in. Ah well, live and learn, toss and turn, and gradually grow more fucking insane--hopefully just enough to cope, but not so much as to propagate the madness further. I don't believe I've ever gasped for air when I wasn't a bit insane. Damn, might be the air itself, but then, why aren't we ALL insane? Too much to think about for a madman. Pass the limes. No limes? Bound to happen sooner or later.
All right, so I might not be quite as insane as I let on, but that's keep that on the down low, I've been bumming off the government for years on claims of such. No, not really. In reality, I'm a fucking 17 year old maniac who works at Kroger's but has no job. How is this possible, you ask? Be a fuckin' genius and work at Kroger's, and you'll understand completely. Reality ceases to exist for 8 hour stretches at a time, all for the astounding amount of $5.15 an hour. God damn, I love America. You want to go insane? Amaze your friends, confound your relatives, frighten your enemies into sleeping with the lights on...in the middle of the day? All this and more can be had from working at Kroger's, and fuck, you might even be able to afford a fuckin' bullet to put through your worthless scalp at the end of the week. This is insanity. This is my life. Please, tell me that I'm wrong, I'll buy another bullet next week, this one's got a portrait of you carved right into the homemade hollow fuckin' point. Do it, and bring your own trash bag, to catch the mess, you silly fucks. People say working at Kroger's is easy--and it is, but it will drive you fuckin' insane. Just see. There's a couple of naysayers here with me now as a matter of fact, tied down, gagged. They didn't bring their plastic bags. What a shame, I'll just have to do something less messy, more painful. Oh, what insanity will do for your creativity. Damn, I just told you I wasn't insane, didn't I? Better you believe that anyhow. Safer for you.
No ideas now, just homicidal tendencies. God help the world, save them from the wretched lizard Kroger employees.

Living in Fear and Loathing,
Dr. Evil
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By the time I read this, I felt like I had been buttfucked by Uncle Sam on a hot Sunday afternoon at a church. Or maybe it was prison. Same same. Anywho, if I never get another instant message about the latest rerun of ER with George Clooney, I swear to God, I won't complain. Ever wonder why they never use regular utensils on that show? Or any emergency room for that matter. Spoons and forks are just as important as scalpels and IV units. Or if it'll clutter things too much, just use a spork. Sporks could fix God's headache, nd lemme tell ya, God has a REALLY BIG FUCKING HEADACHE.

This message is not written in code, its just written insane. Hey! I must work at Kroger's! no. Worse. I got a job that doesn't even pay me and erodes the skin off my hands with 409.
but I'm learning.

Forever Yours,
Mr. Danger
Holy God, I'm responding to my own message. No, just adding more useless information. Like, for instance, why God is a whore. Ever wonder about that? I'll tell you why God is a whore cracker senator (nothing against your mother, of course--all right, that's a lie), it's because I am God. Now, given, I'm not a whore or a senator, but I'll definitely smack you around if you deny that I'm a cracker. And HEY! HEY! Stay away from me with that peanut butter! Don't look at me with that "I love crackers" face! You whore! You senator! I bet you're even related to Uncle Sam, and his twin brother in prison--Oh, hell, both of them are in prison; you know, the whole "Indian Reservation" bit. Doesn't really matter, Jackson was a bitch. And so was his mother. Only the Indians are cool... Of course, I can say this because most of them are sitting around on a Reservation somewhere killing each other with Q-Tip Spears and drinking themselves into a puddle on the floor. I am God, and I have spoken. Makes you question something about the nature of God doesn't it, that he would have a nickname like---

Dr. Evil
Actually it makes me questions something about the nature of Uncle Sam's family tree. And have I been butt fucked by all of them?

Mr. Danger
Yes, I would say that you probably had, and it's a good idea that you go and get that checked for infection. It is very likely that after being anally rammed by an entire family of assfuckin' bigots that you have managed to sustain at least some slight bit of brain damage. I'm afraid spermicide won't help at this point, Dr. Danger, you've been colonized. Some morning very soon you may wake up and find yourself naked, wearing a American flag toga with an E-Z access asshole flap, and singing "Yankee Doodle Fucked His Uncles" A pipe and curiously white goatee are odd, but probable, additions to your diseased patriotism. Have mercy on the faith, man, or god may not trust you anymore. And for fuck's sake, watch out for those giant fuckin' delusions, man. I was humped by a small one the other night, but was able to ward it off with your "Face*TM*" coming through the door. Lord help the sorry bastard who finds himself in the passionate throes of the bigger beasts of delusion.

Dr. Evil
Shit, some morning? That's every Sunday morning, man.

No, that's a lie. Every afternoon. I don't fucking get up in the morning.

Dr. Danger