April Fool's Day

Marcellus Bennett (April 10,2009)

It has been quite the exhilarating and eventful week. Work had nothing to attribute to this stroke of good fortune as I still have to put up with little Miss Fucking Diva, and I was desperately praying (or whatever it's called) for something to get my mind off that cunt. This prayer was answered a few nights ago as I was walking home from work. Have you ever heard the term "wrong place, wrong time"? I'm sure you have heard it someplace or another, but have you heard the polar opposite of that term? Probably not because people are cynical assholes. The term goes "Right place, right time" or right fucking time, as I like to say. This applied to me those few nights ago as I was walking home from work when I realized I needed more smokes first, so I stepped into the local corner store.

As I was about to check out, I overheard two teenage bombshells talking about this "savage ass" party that was happening that night. I was thinking of how I wish I could've been a teenager so I could, legally, get a piece of both of these girls. You could clearly see the immaturity of these girls, not just with their looks, but also with the careless slew of information they were screaming out for all to hear. They had the tenacity to say where the party was going to be and who all was going to be there. "Who" is the keyword in this impassioned account I'm giving you. The "who" that was going to be at the party was the children of some very important individuals: congressmen, police commissioners, actors, authors- pick your poison. I knew that upon hearing this information that I had finally hit the mother fucking jackpot- I could find major dirt on someone's kid and blackmail the shit out of them until I got everything I've ever been deprived of. I fantasize about the form of power I would have, and I feel a lump start to build inside of my khakis until it presses against my zipper- leading me to crouch in pain.

With that kind of power, I could leave my shithole of a job with that good-for-nothing bitch I'm stuck with. All I needed was to get my hands a little dirty; I needed a photo, just a single photo, of some majority whip's daughter wrapping her pretty little lips around the star quarterback's six inch cock, and I'll be home free. Hell, I'd probably be able to get my own cock sucked by any woman I wanted with that kind of influence, even that whore of a boss I have; I'd probably force my dick into her mouth with no hesitation- just to shut her up.

As I think this happy thought, I'm suddenly overcome by an epiphany- I must be at this party. I will definitely go, and I won't leave 'till I have something out of this world.