Hey... below you will find a character who comes from the great meth wars... which are in here somewhere. A disgusting story about a bunch of meth heads in a trailer park, one of whom is Boner, a gay prophet of sorts/and a big whore. He started a gay cult based on the teachings of Gilford Tuttle, who preaches often of the Huge Balls of Jock Jesus, who he wants to replace what he calls the 'long haired Jewish Jesus.' Boner also was the one who Keistered a batch of meth, which then got the smell of his ass, and became known as White Ass, and was quite popular with gay truckers, who were the first to follow Boner's religion. The writer is Skeeter, who relates what is happening with him and his two brothers. The third of which is Eugene, who is mentally handicapped and ends up whimpering a lot over the antics of his siblings.... our story takes place just after the brothers have been released from prison, after blowing up half of the trailer park while making meth. They have been in jail for five years. All of them have spent a lot of time in the slammer in their day, and found their own ways to deal. Boner of course just Bitched his way through. Skeeter played a lot of cards and kept to himself. Eugene rather reluctantly bitched occasionally, at first, then went into protective custody for the last two years, where while he could seldom leave his cell, he at least did not have to worry about having a leaky asshole, like Boner.
This is not a pretty story, by the way... of you are easily offended, please, go to my poetry where at least you can be offended by my ideas, rather than the gross depths I will go to for my own amusement... and those few eclectic souls who are demented enough to come along (thank you Bob).
Skeeter Skeeter Davis, once more writing about the Great Meth Wars. As most of my readers know -- thank you Aunt Elen and Uncle Roger and Billy Robbie, my target audience, we recently have been guests of the great state of Indiana, as you all know, after a small explosion blew up the Waterloo Trailer Park Emporium... at least the Northside, which made those damn southsiders feel all the more superior. The Insurance from the Trailer Park covered the damages, which surprised the hell out of me. I wished I'd a known I was insured, because I sure as hell would have bragged on that. Imagine, me insured? Well, I'm not anymore of course.
Speaking of Insurance, I of course never had me no health insurance, except in prison. I am going to keep my health up though, unlike most meth heads... and because I have a doctor so caring, he gives people free appointments. You only have to pay if you're sick. That's the way they do it in Mexico, where he has a license to practice medicene and all, but here in America, he is kind of an outlaw doctor. He basically does surgeries in his basement. It is all set up nice and shit. And he lets you lay on a couch, instead of those damn hard gurneys they have at regular hospitals -- he told me that is how much he cares, and I believe him. Hope he doesn't find anything else wrong when I go in for my next check up. He always seems to have some reason to do a surgery. It's crazy. Like I said, most Most meth heads won't even go near a doctor, so I am all proud of the fact that I have had eight surgeries. Hell, like the Doc said, having that many surgeries is like doing exercise and eating right all rolled into one.
So, we're here in our new trailer. No furniture or nothing. But it is nice and new. I know the cleanliness won't last, and the meth fumes will yellow the walls when we cook up the next batch, and all... still, it looks awful white and shiny. Me and Boner and Eugene been out all day going to stores buying the legal ass limits of allergy pills to cook us up a batch of White Ass. We gots to make some money, man. They sent us out of lock up with ten bucks apeice. Boner got five hundred from the guy he was bitching for, and like Boner said, if that ain't true love, he doesn't know what the hell is. I thought so too at first, until I heard that Boner was buying five hundred dollars worth of smokes to send to the guy -- they would be worth a lot more inside. They used to sell cigarettes inside, and Boner often keistered over fifty packs at a time for this dude. Still I ain't gonna say nothing to Boner, because he is telling everyone, "Hey, see this ass... it is worth five hundred bucks, even without no cigarettes in it." I think in his heart he knows.
Carl, the cat that Boner turned gay by using a recipe he learned from the most wicked, despicable character that he ever bitched for in prison, Crazy George Bush, they called him... because of his Texas accent and he was kinda slow, like the president. ... well, Carl he was none too happy to see Boner getting all excited about his Bitcher... though he knew it was going to happen when Boner went into lockup again. He had his usual hissy fit, but it was obvious that they were too happy to see each other for that to matter. Soon enough, Carl was in back howling and Boner was grunting and Eugene started having flashback to his bootie calls in prison and crying and hollering and pissing himself, as he does whenever he gets all stressed. Then came the spastic diarreah, which dripped all down his legs and got on the new carpet and all. We don't ever clean, so that is kind of permanent. I gotta get me some incense.
The diarreah smell is why I decided to come down to the trailer park's rec center, where they have the internet, and get back to my blogging. I should also add, that if any cops are reading this, I am writing fictional stories about guys who make meth and I in no way will ever do that again. I served my time, and learned my lesson well.
Now that this is clear, let me say that the new batch of White Ass will be coming out in the morning, because we will be cooking all night. So, bring the kids down tommorrow sfor a snorting good time. We guarantee, also, that we will not fall asleep again while making meth and blow up the trailer park again. I know we said this a few times before, but this time we mean it. If we are awake more than three weeks, we will not make meth... until we get some sleep. I promise this time.
I guess I should also address all the people in the trailer park who have been a talking us down. I mean you Woodcocks of course. I know you think you are so fancy on the Northside of the trailer Park, and perhaps you were raised on Jeopardy and we only got Jerry Springer, but still... well, yes, we know you are smarter and all. Still, we got our pride over here. And we do not need you fancy, smancy Woodcocks going around saying that Boner's but is filled with so many diseases that no one should snort meth that has been keistered by him. Keistering is perfectly safe. They have all been to prison and know this. Hell, Margie, their so called Mom, was known for the old double keister on her cell block, and Boner could still hold more smokes... so there. I mean it -- so there. Anyways, yes I cannot try to tell anyone that Boner does not have anal diseases. Everyone around here has seen his anus when he popped out a bag for them behind the 7-`11, and know he is diseased in certain ways, with numerous bleeding sores and such, at times... however, none of this is meth transferable. Now, I would not recommend putting your arm in Boner, as been done many, many times before, because I have seen men who fisted him with sores all up and down their arms (and I wish Boner would stop requesting this service but there is no stopping him from hopping on a fist).
Much Later...It is seven o clock in the morning. The White Ass is finished now and I am tweek tweek tweeking around the place. Figured I better come down here. Boner and Carl have been going at it all night and Eugene finally just started listening to a walk man all the time. That was much nicer than the spastic diarreah he developed at first. He has a very sensitve anus, as he tried to tell everyone in prison, and I think some guys got it all turned around, and Eugene sure learned a good lesson when that guy said that he had never seen a sensitive anus, and Eugene showed him and... well, you know the rest... the guy hopped on and popped a wad.
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