Not My Rodrick

Where Did He Go?

Well great.

My guitary dude was literally struck by lightning, and he died. His anus prolapsed. Where am i going to find someone with as much swag as the dead man? I might as well just stick my drum sticks up my gosh darn anus!

I walk down the middle of the road as I begin to lose hope for finding a sizzling cool new guitar fellow. The cars don't bother to even beep as they pass because they can feel the sadness that radiates out of my anus. I drag my entire drum set down the road with me because I forgot my van at the house. It's really heavy. 

I go around the corner, and finally, my house is in sight. For the love of Löded Diper, thank you. My legs are killing me. And my arms. And my ass. 

I get back home, take a cool fat nap, and get back on the grind. I even tried playing guitar and drums at the same time. Turns out I'm too lame. Just kidding, if I got anymore talented, i'd be prosecuted by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They told me that. But also, I have to stay away from them because of some other things. Like kidnappings. Anywho, I get all my crap together and hop in my van. If I don't find a guitary dude now, I never will. 

I speed down the sidewalk in my kick ass van, almost hitting people. Can you believe the stupidity of some of the population? If there's a car coming towards you, you aren't supposed to scream and say "THIS IS A SIDEWALK WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" You're supposed to politely oblige and get the heck out of my way LAMES!

Fricking anus pinchers, dude. Anyways, I stop at this place called the Oasis Cafe, hoping to grab a sandwich. Turns out, it was a gambling joint. But, the dude outside, who stood out there just to tell everyone that it wasn't actually a cafe, looked pretty cool. 

"Hey my bro-co loco man dude, how's it going." I say casually, not trying to come off too strong. I wouldn't want to scare this precious man away. 

"What up stinky idiot boy? Your eyeliner is smudging." He says to me. I can feel my face heating up, my butt hole being clenched. 

"My apologies. I just came from an INTENSE concert." I lied, but he doesn't need to know that. Dummy.

"Woah, totally insane bro. Whose concert?" His face lit up. I have him wrapped around my finger. 

"Mine. I play drums."

"Rad. I play guitar. Have been for 23 years." 

This is it. I can feel the milk I had before starting to come up my esophagus, into my mouth. Tears begin to stream down my beautifully chiseled cheeks. I have found him.

"Oh my anus. Sir. Sir. You don't understand. I want you. I need you. My anus? Bleeds for you. My drum sticks? They belong to you now. I am yours. I belong to you. Be in my band. Now. Forget any corn mulans i had before. Anyone. I would jump off a cliff into a lake of severed bodies for you. Please, be my guitary dude?" I begin to literally sob. I cannot control myself in this moment. All the hard work I have been through to find my guitarist has been worth it. 

"Is it crack? Is that what you smoke? Do you smoke crack? Dude. I don't know what the hell you've been putting up your bum, but you need to chill out bro. Unclench your anus. Stop crying. I'm very flattered, trust me, but I'm genuinely concerned for your well being. Please, get some help." The man puts his hands on my shoulders. I feel rage.

"I SAID BE IN MY BAND YOU MOLDY CAT TURD. WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND. YOU KNOW WHAT? Get in the van. Now. I'm taking you. I don't care what you say. Literally, get in the van." I throw open my van doors, and drag him into the back. "Stay in here. If you leave, I will electrocute you. Do you have any clue how many drum sticks I have ON HAND that I can shove in your holes right now? Exactly. So you're gonna be in my band whether you like it or not. Is that clear?"

Genuine fear floods his eye balls. "Ok." 

I drive to my house, drag the man to my basement, and lock him there. But then I feel the intense urge to force a certain object out of my anus, so I use the little boys room. I'm too excited to see my new guitary dude, so I decide not to wipe, flush, or wash my hands and I just head right out. I'm so happy, I could cry. And I don't cry. I open the door to the closet where I locked my beloved, precious guitarist.

But he isn't there. My anus turns inside out.