About 2

I’ve always wanted to write a novel. Unfortunately, I’m not a very good writer– and even if I could write good it’s only good short bursts is are.

This is all I have mustered over the years. Well, there was one story– but, like everything ever in the entire fucking universe, it was my own downfall. Besides that bitch, I mean. Ooh, that bitch. It still gets me, that bitch.

There’s always a bitch in one of my stories. Somebody’s always wronging me. Somebody’s always sucking my dick. There’s always a bitch. Always.

So bitch Kelly and I were nailing each other in my apartment. It was hot. Lots of pee-pee. There’s always gotta be lots of pee-pee in my stories. So there was lots of pee-pee going on between the two of us. First year college stuff, you know what I mean? After the pee-pee we were laying down  in the pee-pee, spooning each other in the pee-pee, giving each other sloppy pee-pee kisses. She says, “Hey”. And I roll over in the pee-pee and look at her all covered in pee-pee.

“Hey, you,” I say, all smooth-like, covered in her sloppy pee-pee kisses.

“Tell me more,” she says. “I want to know more about you.”

And shit, you know? Even after all the pee-pee she yearns for more? I tell you, these thirsty pee-pee bitches are just the fucking worst. All they want is more, more, more. They want all dat piddy. You know what I mean. You know all them piddy bitches are just all kinds of piddy-wack. You know it– that’s why you’re here. That’s why we’re all here. We’re all just looking for a little more piddy-wack.

“I’m working on a book. Novel, actually,” I say.

“That’s cool,” she says. She’s now staring into my beautiful green eyes. “What’s it called?”

Women Are Fish,” I say.

“Why’s it called that?”

“Because fish can’t read. So it doesn’t matter what I write about them.”

…It was a joke. Not even a good joke or even a respectable joke… I recognize this now. I’ll be the first to admit that my ‘women are fish’ joke blows whale dork. But I was high off all the pee-pee. The pee-pee made me do it is what I’m telling you.

This was back in 2009, right at the beginning of this new era of feminism where white women started looking out for each other and only each other only when other white women were looking. So I had no idea that racism and sexism were going to be totally uncool just one year later. But Kelly, this pee-pee bitch. Kelly fucking outed me to everybody. It seemed like everybody in Orange County knew me as “Charlie Brown, the Sexy and Racy Sexist and Racist” after that one, single, sexist joke I made that one, single, sexist time.

The backlash made it impossible for me to get a job– especially at Five Guys. I’ve always wanted to work at Five Guys because it seems like just the right amount of employees for a business. But after that? Job opportunities dried up faster than boiled pee-pee water. Plus, that bitch stuck around for some extra sloppy pee-pee kisses even after I made that stupid joke. That makes her a pee-pee stealer, you know? She’s a goddamn pee-pee burglar is what she is. And I was the one who was pee-pee burgled.

How did it all end? There was a knock at the door. “I need you to go,” I said. “Your replacement is here”. That was also a joke. It was also not a joke because her replacement was there. And by the time that sweet young pig named Cora jumped into bed, the pee-pee had gone cold.

I told you. I said I wasn’t very good at writing.

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