Saturday evening at the Rig is a sight to behold. I like to call it “goin’ Riggin’.” That place is packed with the finest assortment of trailer park honeys that food stamps can buy. Unless you have some type of facial disfigurement, you are pretty much guaranteed to get laid. Wait, I take that back. Even Jordy, who has a tumor on his cheek that resembles two dogs fuckin’, got laid last week. So needless to say, this place is fuckin’ awesome!
I scope out the place and find my target for the evening. She’s drinking chablis (pronounced shab' less) through a straw straight from a plastic cup. Pure class! I make some small talk and learn her name is Jolene. I work up to telling her I want to drive my sausage truck straight to Tuna Town. She agrees she’d like to ride the Traylor Express, so we jump into my Dodge Neon and head to her place.
When we get to her trailer, there are at least six kids running fuckin’ rampant outside! She proudly announces that they’re all hers! It was 2 a.m. by the way…I told you she was classy! She gets all her fuck trophies rounded up and tells them to go inside so we can have some alone time on her faux wood deck. After breaking out the boxed wine – which I’ve come to know and love in situations such as these – we start to get romanitcal.
I unbutton her shorty shorts and, just as I’m about to start fingerbanging her, one of her whore babies walks out wearing these threadbare pajamas with Yodas, C-3P0s and shit all over them. In his nasty little hand he has a gotdamn trumpet! Jesus! Before I know it, he brings the horn up to his pursed love child lips and begins to play that shit like we are Lady and the Tramp eating spaghetti in a back alley. What the fuck!? So here I am fingerbanging his momma under the table to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb in the key of G Minor! She keeps saying, “That’s so awesome sweetie!” I know she must be talking to me, because that kid couldn’t play for shit!
This is too much to take – even for me. So before he can start his rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, I look down at my pager and tell her it’s my buddy paging me code 6969, which means “your trailer is on fire” and that I have to go. She seems pretty disappointed – I think she was hoping I’d be lucky baby daddy #7. FUCK THAT!!!!
So I go back to my place and break out my Mexican midget porn and commence to lovin’ on myself. I’m sure it was more pleasurable than the abyss that was certainly Jolene.
Here’s hopin’ I have better luck riggin’ next weekend!
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