>>938591837
Hold the fuck up, "Babs" — you expect me to believe you had some ex 15 years ago into K-Pop? Cocksucker, the only woman you’ve ever been inside of was your mother, and even then it was probably against her will.

You ain’t talkin’ to no ex, you’re talkin’ to the voices in your head while you sit in your cum-stained gamer chair. ‘We still occasionally talk’ — yeah, every time you pull your pud and whisper to the ceiling fan.

Fuck outta here with that fairy tale, Babs, before I call your mom up and get the REAL setlist out of her fuckin' monkey.

Couple months back, I’m stuck in traffic on the 101, right? I’m high, I’m blasting some old-school Sabbath, just minding my own business. Next thing I hear—woo woo woo—sirens everywhere, like a fucking Michael Bay movie.

I look up, and I see this mess on the highway—it’s J-Tard. This pedophile cocksucker’s in his Herman Miller chair, on the freeway, wheels smoking, leaking all over the asphalt like a wounded sea creature. And he’s not alone, bro—he’s got a kid on his lap. I’m talking about his own nephew. The poor bastard’s just clinging to life, eyes wide like a deer in headlights, trying not to breathe in that phimosis fog.

J-Tard’s screaming about how the kid’s gonna be his ‘shota tag team partner’ and how they’re gonna ‘dominate the wrestling circuit.’ Meanwhile, there’s cops swarming from every angle, one of them almost pukes from the smell when they get close.

Then—no bullshit—his butt plug shoots out mid-chase, ricochets off a Prius, and sends three cars spinning out. The whole highway smells like a moldy lobster tail.

Bro, I just rolled my window up, lit a joint, and prayed the cops put two in his head before he made it past the exit ramp.