Originally Posted by Barabbas

I am the most motor boating son of a bitch this city has ever seen.....I hope all of you get cancer and your assholes bleed incessently!!!!
I have a very funny story to tell all of you cock monkeys.... This Tale is titled

MONSTER RAIN

The more I look back on my childhood, the more it becomes apparent that I was an odd little boy. Hyperactive my entire life, shrinks wanted to put me on Ritalin until my mother stepped in and vetoed the idea. She thought it would hurt her little Jimmy's creativity and free spirt. I had many hobbies when I was a youngster, one of which was destroying beehives with rocks. My friends and I would find one and pelt it with bricks until is was ruined and the bees had to abondon it. This practice came to and end when I saw my friend Denny running and screaming because he had three yellow jackets stinging him on his outstretched arm. I also remember my friend Teddy having bees fly up his shirt and sting him repeatedly. I now have a fear of bees that undoubtedly began with one of these stupid instances. Too bad a prostitue didn't sting Denny or young Theodore; perhaps I would have developed a healthy fear of spending half my income on sex with emotionally damaged women. Recently I told the story of Monster Rain on the air and it's been sweeping the nation ever since. When I was in first or second grade my friend and I would play this fun little game. We would be bored walking aroung our apartment complex, and one of us would yell, "monster rain!" and we would both scamper under the porch to avoid being rained-on. While we were under the porch avoiding "monster rain", we would kill the time by blowing each other. I am not sure what the connection was between oral sex and the Monster Rain; hindsight dictates that an umbrella would have been more practical. I am also beginning to doubt that there was and real Monster Rain at all; I now suspect we were using this fictional occurence just to get under the porch and kiss each other's dingles. I don't even remember the kid's name to be honest, nor do I remember what he looked like. I do, however, remember on time he was wearing Budweiser swim trunks that smelled like mothballs. Just in case you have moments where you think your life sucks, at least you don't have to contend with the memeory of kneeling under a porch and sucking the hairless wiener of a boy who's testicles smelled like your grandmother's closet.

I hope this hits home with all of you losers who still visit this site after you have left enterprise.
Some flunky genius will invariably mention "Why is this loser visiting this site?"
I am superior to you failures because I've never failed at anything in life. (Except growing a high quality moustache)

I love tits