Tag Archives: ecstasy

Concerning the Annual PTA Luau Luncheon

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Dear Don,

Sharon and I just wanted to thank you and Vicki for coming over to our annual PTA Luau Luncheon last Sunday. Your support for the education of the children in this community is much appreciated, of course. However, there is an issue I feel I must address. My wife and I certainly consider ourselves “with it.” We’re no squares. We’re hip to the jive. We’re fresh to death. We call 4-1-1. I smoked a little weed in college with my frat bros and Sharon experimented with her sexuality back in her college days. Still, we considered your behavior a bit unsettling. We offer an array of tropical alcoholic beverages at the luncheon with the assumption that they will be consumed in moderation. Many of our guests agree that your excessive drinking was offensive. We also heard from several parents that you were crushing up and snorting lines of ecstasy on our living room coffee table, as well as smoking doobies in the aviary. This is simply unacceptable. The final straw was when I had to generously loan you a pair of slacks because you soiled your own. The second final straw was when you and  your wife had noisy violent intercourse in Anthony’s tree house within earshot of the everyone at the luncheon. Therefore, we regret to inform you that, because of this behavior, you will be placed in probationary status on the PTA board. Please refer to your PTA handbook or contact me if you have any further questions.

Sincerly,

Dr. Vincent Upchuck

P.S. I would appreciate if you would return my borrowed slacks. They are Izod (very expensive). Also, Sharon and I have decided it would be best to tear down and rebuild Anthony’s tree house because of its recent contamination. I expect that you will contribute to the construction costs.

Dear Dr. Upchuck,

Vicki and I had a wonderful time at the PTA Luau Luncheon that you and your wife graciously hosted. You throw one heck of a shindig. Our enjoyment was certainly influenced by the ecstasy we railed off your coffee table, and although the tropical drinks were not as stout as Vicki and I would have preferred, coupled with the sexcstacy, they did the trick. I whole-heartedly apologize if you found our behavior offensive. We didn’t realize that you and the rest of the parents at the luncheon had pussies for asses. Like, instead of buttholes you just have a vagina that you poop out of. As for my pending probationary status, you and the PTA board can eat mine and Vicki’s dick. And on the topic of Anthony’s treehouse, I will not be contributing to construction costs. It seems like the whole endeavor will be a waste of time. Vince, quit lying to yourself, that corn-holing little queen would rather have a sewing machine than a treehouse. You should learn to accept him for who he is.

Sincerely,

Don Ertwhiszt

P.S. I’ll have Clarissa drop those slacks by your office on Thursday.

Dear Don,

I was under the assumption that we would be able to handle this issue like mature adults, but apparently not. Your response to the incident at the Luau and the PTA decision is appalling and unforgivable, but I would defend to the death your right to say it. That’s because I’m an American. My parents were Americans. My Grandparents. My Great-Great-Great Grandfather served with General Washington when he forced the British to surrender at Appomattox Courthouse. The same can’t be said about your first generation Jew-gasing Kraut ass.  And for the record, Anthony is not gay, he is just eccentric because he is artistic. Ms. Horne has selected a few of his watercolor still-lifes to enter into the state art showcase. We are very proud of his creative and sensitive qualities and I assure you, he is not gay. Just because he’s not as sexually active as your huge 4th grade slut daughter, Alisha, who all the parents know got fingered on the jungle gym by 6th graders, does not make him a homosexual.

Sincerely,

Dr. Vincent Upchuck

Dear Dr. Butt-Pussy,

It’s funny that you bring up that rumor about the 6th graders, because I heard from the other parents that Anthony got fingered on the jungle gym too. In the butt. Because he’s gay. I won’t deny that Alisha is very sexually active. It’s a side effect of her being popular and smoking hot and and always getting invited to go to the movies and pool parties with 6th graders. Unlike Anthony. The only action he has seen since he got in the 4th grade is me and Vicki buttering the skids in his tree house. He’s welcome, by the way. And I’ve seen his still-lifes, they look like bear shit.

Sincerely,

Don Ertwhiszt

If I Were Stranded on a Dessert Island…

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Seriously? I’m diabetic. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Is Diabetes a joke to you or something? Are my blood sugar levels funny?

You know what? Mom was right about you. You are an instigator and a shit-monger. She says it’s because your parents got divorced and your mom is a trashy dumpster slut with labia that flap like the wings of a manta ray, who spends her nights eating ecstacy and sucking the cream filling out of chocolate eclairs.

She says you can’t come over to our house anymore.

My Friend Steve is a Real Cool Guy

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My friend, Steve, is super down to earth. He has a rhinosaurus heart. Metaphorically. Like his heart is the size of a rhino’s. Not literally. It’s an expression that means like, he’s real sweet and kind and his shirts always match his eyeballs, which are the color of the deepest ocean, if the deepest ocean were dyed cedar brown. Literally, his heart probably weighs about seven pounds – same size as Will Smith’s. Plus, he’s gotta dick that could eat up a gator. No joke. Seriously. Especially if the gator wasn’t full grown. Like a little 3 footer? His dick could easily gobble that up. There’s no doubt about that. Steve is the kinda guy who you want to bring home to your Mom (if she wasn’t such a old flappy cunt who can’t live in the now and realize that it’s fucking 2011 and that the gays are the new blacks and are takin’ OVA!!! We’re turning the Blackhouse, previously known as the Whitehouse, into the Fuchsiahouse when we elect our first Queen in 2016). Steve’s the type of guy that will bring you flowers, and not just because your pet turtle, Cecil, just died of breast cancer. It’s like, I haven’t heard from you in 6 months and all the sudden Cecil kicks it and you wanna come over with flowers and act all buddy buddy with me? Go fly a motherfucking kite, asshole. Sorry. My “so-called” life, right guyz? Anyway. Steve pushes me in all aspects of my life. He pushes me to be a more caring, thoughtful person. He pushes me to try new things. He pushes me in the shopping cart when we go to Wally World to pick up anal nitrate before pushing in my butthole Snickers. Whole lot of anal pushing with Steve, that’s for sure. See, I’m a power bottom but I really like getting with someone who can get in there and split me in two like Robin Hood’s arrow. Steve really is the best. I’m not fucking with you. He’s numero uno in my book. That’s Spanish. Steve also taught me Espanol because he thought it would be nice if we were bisexual and could speak two languages. Plus, it gets me harder than a Sudoku puzzle when he whispers sweet Latin nothings in my ear-vag.

So here’s the deal. Here is why I’m telling you all this. Steve and I dated on and off through middle school but our relationship was so fucked that we knew we had to call it off or one of us would end up gutting the other one like a swordfish and leaving the body for the coyotes to pick at. I mean, we are still greeeat friends. And like I said, he’s the greatest guy, WE just couldn’t make it work. I’m with Sharon now, and I’m happy as a clam. I still get to be the power bottom. But the thing is, we all like to go out to the Giraffe’s Clit (the hottest new leather club) together and Steve is really shy and has a hard time meeting people, so it ends up just being the three of us, and Sharon and I feel bad leaving him alone in the theatre while we go play hide the nutsack in the ladies’ room. I think you see where I’m going with this. We want to set Steve up with someone, so that when Sharon and I excuse ourselves from the table during dinner and go to the car to blow lines of ecstasy up each other’s asses with a straw, he will have someone to talk to. So, if this sounds like something you’d be into or if Steve sounds like the type of fly cat that you’d like to put inside you, then give us a holler and let’s all go out!

Can’t wait to meet you!

P. Dickenson