Stop Clogging Me, Charlie Alan Kraft

guy who looks kind of like Charlie if he hadn't tatoooed his face

So here I was, minding my own business the other day, when this fat piece of shit Charlie Alan Kraft starts waddling towards me backwards with his pants around his cankles. I fuckin’ started losing it, man, cause see, I live in his apartment, and in the land of Kraft two things are accepted as fact. Chicks are all lesbians, and when Charlie takes a shit it’s like somebody just turned on a leaf blower full of wet barkdust and assorted beans.

So he hovers for a minute, appropriately sings a few bars of “Highway to Hell”, and with the force of a Sunday Sizzler congregation he plants his cheeks and introduces my bowl to a violent tornado of poorly digested beef jerky, some type of tomato looking shit, three or four broken crayons, and a condom filled with shaving cream. Oh, and as always, the dead, blood-stained grass.

You know the saying “don’t shit where you eat”? Well with Charlie it’s more like “don’t shit WHILE you eat.” Why not try shoving a tube up your ass, and hooking the other end up to your mouth? Hell, corn dogs were just classified as NEARLY EXTINCT because of this piece of shit. Just because you can see something doesn’t mean you need to eat it. A table full of food is not a sign from the heavens that you should cram it all down your throat. There’s this thing that most people have called a stomach, and the idea is to fill it with stuff that’s good for you and then wait a while so your body can use it. Then you poop out a little bit of leftovers. But no, this fucking moron just shovels it in. I mean that literally, THE MAN CARRIES A SHOVEL. Only corn is supposed to come out the same, but with this deuchebag EVERYTHING comes out the same. His body doesn’t even bother to digest, cause it knows there’s more on the way in a second!

Hey, cow man, do me a favor. STOP EATING SO GOD DAMN MUCH! Better yet, next time you decide to sit on me, crying about how your life is such a miserable failure between squirts, BRING A RAZOR BLADE. Not for shaving your ugly mug, I mean, what difference would that make for a guy that couldn’t score in the coma wing? Cut your fuckin’ wrists already, shit, I would do it for you but I was manufactured without any type of shit to manipulate the blade with. UP THE STREET, UP THE STREET. Fuck, bring a shotgun for Christ sake, put it in your mouth, and get one of your friends to pull the trigger. I mean, ANY OF THEM WILL GLADLY DO IT FOR YOU.

I’m so fucking tired of your shit. It’s just wave after wave after wave. Like imagine you’re playing Space Invaders, but instead of aliens it’s a bunch of random objects covered in shit. And instead of being a little spaceship with lasers to shoot the turds, all you have is a big open mouth the size of the screen for them to fall into. Dear God, what did I do to deserve this? Who the fuck is laughing? It’s not funny, you prick, it’s fucking disgusting! Oh, wait, am I not talking on your level? How about this? MOO MOO MOO MOOOOOVE SOMEWHERE ELSE!

Please someone help me. Please, I’m begging you. I can’t take it anymore. He spent all day drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, and anyone that has been around him for more than 20 minutes can tell you what that means. DIARRHEA. Let’s just say that if I ever had the opportunity to take a vacation, the first thing I would NOT go see is Niagra Falls. I get that shit every damn day with this cocksucker. Please, I’ll send you a google map, you can come over while he’s hanging out at the hot dog cart. Make sure you bring a big ass mallet or sledgehammer. I’m on the second floor (what he calls “the place that’s harder to get to”) and I’m kind of a white colored bowl thing that looks like someone was baking brownies in it. Just bring the sledgehammer in and go to fucking town on me. Don’t hold back, just obliterate my ass. I can’t take it anymore. Please, spare me. I’m begging you! Don’t leave me hanging! Shit, I think I hear him coming, NOOOOOOO, HURRRRYYYYY!!!!!!!!!