W T F

Who's That...

HELLO MY FELLOW POOPSICLES!!(nope that wasn't meant as an insult)

WHAT DO COWS DRINK?

SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTHIES

HAHAHAHA I CRACK MYSELF UP - and those were the last words Humpty Dumpty said.

WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA

SEBASTIAN THE CRABBY PATCH

Yeah... I'm feeling really hyper today for some reason. I just realized pretty much all of what I just wrote was in caps lock... for some reason I'm laughing really hard as I type and I look crazy but THAT'S ALL GOOD BECAUSE MAYBE I AM CRAZY YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Moving on... or should I say... Moooooooooooving on(cow jokes are udderly amazing) 

***

I spat out blood and coughed violently. My captor gazed down at me emotionlessly. "You about done?"

"You are what you eat, little shit."

He raised his eyebrows. "That was pretty weak, I must admit." A scowl appeared on his face. "Now, if I could just find some people close to you and threaten you with their lives, everything would be so much faster. You'd already be telling me all I want to know, goddammit! But no. Somehow, you've managed to keep all that information away from me. Not a single thing I could dig up about those important to you."

"How long have you been trying to dig up dirt on me?" I managed to rasp as I wiped blood off my mouth.

"That's irrevelant." A cruel smile formed on his lips. "Now I'm going to ask you one more time. Where. Is- "

The ring of my phone cut him off. "My, my, what have we here?" He shot me a wicked smirk and stooped down to pick it up. I would've taken the opportunity to lash out at him, but I was tied down.

I glanced at the caller id. Shit, shit, shit!  Despite the turmoil the sight of the caller id had sent me in, I restrained myself from showing emotion.

He hummed. "Maybe this is someone you care about. I can finally use something against you." Glancing over at my face, he chuckled. "Maybe I've gotten lucky and found someone who you care about." Then he checked the caller id. "Who the fuck is Baked Beans?"

I shrugged. "Must be some food place."

Shrugging, he went on my contacts list and searched "Mom." Of course, he didn't find anything. "Dammit! What do you call your mom?"

As I opened my mouth to answer, he shook his head. "That was a rhetorical question. I'll just scroll through your contacts list... one of these people has got to be important to you."

There was a long pause. Finally, he spoke. "How the fuck do you remember who everyone is?"

"I don't understand what you mean..."

My seemingly clueless words were what made him explode in anger. "YOU'RE FUCKING PSYCHO, YOU KNOW THAT?"

"I like Psycho Donuts."

"YOUR CONTACTS LIST IS A FUCKING MESS!" Getting a hold of himself, he added in a quieter voice, "I mean, who the actual fuck gives all the contacts a food name? Or just some random ass name?"

"Me."

"Obviously." He walked over and kicked me in the ribs before returning to my phone, shaking his head. "I just don't get it. Is this some secret code?"

"Sure."

He began writing down all the names of my contacts, trying to find a code or something. As he wrote them down, he muttered them under his breath. "Baked Beans, asparagus, face-smells-like-my-butt, corn, donuts, diarrhea, not-fat-Santa, mushroom, don't answer, piece of shit, diet coke, toilet plunger, Christmas tree up ass, my-butt-itches... AHA! SOMEONE'S NAME ON YOUR CONTACT'S LIST IS 'V.I.P.'!"

I stared at him blankly. "And?"

"You put someone's name as Very Important Person... I've found your weakness. It must be someone very close to you, eh? I wonder how long it'll take you to confess everything once you hear his/her's screams." He clicked on "V.I.P." and waited for them to answer. Wanting me to hear every bit of the conversation he would have with "my weakness," he put it on speakerphone.

HAHAHAHAHHA that idiot.

Finally, the person on the other end answered. Except not in the way my captor was expecting. "PRBTTTTT" A loud, obnoxious fart sounded from the other end. Then the sound of feces plopping into a toilet.

"What is this??" My captor exclaimed, thorougly pissed off now.

"V.I.P. stands for Very Important Poop. I dial that number whenever I'm bored and then I hear the most beautiful music." I said this all with a straight face in a monotone voice.

"Un-fucking-believable." He hissed through his teeth.