Boys Eating Popsicles

Before we kick this party off, let’s make something clear right from the start. Yeah, you wish you were me. Got it. No need to remind me. You know how I know that? Because my brother rocks packed restaurants full of hot new mom action. He’s also TOTALLY INTO LITTLE BOYS,  which leaves all that fishwrap for me and me alone. What do you think that smell is, it sure as hell ain’t BEN’S PINK. No way, buddy, that’s WET PINK.

I looooooove the stink finger. Speaking of which, I decided that to tie my perspective into the format of this publication, I would become an artist. How fuckin’ hard is that? Hahahaha! Oh, hey, look at me, I make pictures, whoopty-fuckin-doo! Someone please tell me how awesome and important I am or I’ll cry!

"Boy Eating Popsicle #3" green with envy I know it and you know it... You should see #1... it's so good your mom wants me to draw it on her stank with my tongue, and you don't need to see that.

Check it out, I made some sweet ass pictures of boys eating popsicles! Coolest fuckin’ part is how each popsicle is a DIFFERENT COLOR! Other awesome part? TOOK ME FIVE MINUTES! Guess what else takes me five minutes? Bangin’ your mom at your sixth birthday party while you were cryin’ about the BIG SCARY MOUSE! Hahahaha! You actually thought we were REAL MICE! What a fuckin’ MORON! Mom had one hell of a hot ass, though, at least until I got done with it!

By the way, that’s all from the imagination. Lots of you so-called artists out there think you’re gonna be famous and important but don’t have any imagination. You want originality? TOO LATE, I JUST USED THE BEST IDEA LEFT. You know why? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ famous and better than everyone else. Boys Eating Popsicles?……….. GONE!

See that kid with the popsicle drippin’ down his fat little tummy? Check it out, look at the drawing I did. THAT’S YOU. You’re just some stick figure, wanna-be, wish-you-were-me, nothing little loser. Know why? CAUSE YOU’RE NOT FAMOUS. Know how I can tell? CAUSE YOU CRY FOR YOUR MOMMY. That’s right, I heard you the other night, while I was busy pancakin’ her batter through the service entrance. I imagined you with your sissy little purple popsicle, fat rolls just quivering with delight. I IMAGINED YOU. That means I can do anything I want with you.

One more thing. You wanna be famous? TOO LATE, I JUST IMAGINED YOU CRIPPLED AND DEAD. It is so good to be awesome. Famous, I mean. Well, awesome too. Best thing about it? I can talk to you ANY WAY I WANT. Why? Because you’re not famous. You have nothing on me, Timmy. Get down on your knees and suck a green popsicle, but this time make sure you get it all in your mouth. Little fuckin’ pervert you art. See that, made a joke.

By the way, all three of these amazing portraits are for sale. The price is $10,000,000 because even if you don’t buy my shit I will still be RICH AND FAMOUS.

Fuck you and die,

Chuck O. Cheese
BETTER AND MORE FAMOUS THAN YOU