Recently Over-Heard Near the MacArthur Maze, around 3:40 AM this morning:
Truck Driver:
My gracious! What a lovely morning. All is right with the world…
(Truck careens into guard-rail. A generous explosion.)
Oh my God. Oh my GOD! I am fired. I’m so goddamn fired.
(Freeway’s steel supports melt, span collapses leaving massive hole in the freeway.)
Seriously? Are you kidding me? I’m goin’ to jail. Sweet virgin mother, I can’t go to jail. I can NOT go to jail. I’ve got to put this fire out!
(Attempts to put out flames. Burns his face and hands, the burns are 1st and 2nd in degree.)
Aaaaaall right. Fine. Okay, know what? Fuck it. Cabbie!
(Taxi pulls up.)
Cabbie:
Jesus. You look like hell.
Truck driver:
Get me the hell out of here.
Cabbie:
Where to?
Truck Driver:
Hospital, St. Franny’s.
Cabbie:
Were you drivin’ that rig that flipped and exploded?
Truck Driver:
Yes, my good man, I was.
Cabbie:
Boy, what the hell did you do? Well what the hell happened?
Truck Driver:
What did I do? You wanna know what happened? Try this on for size. I’m crusing along, got Slopyard Jenny on cruise control, a slow but steady 47 M-P-H. I’m chowin’ down on a MoonPie, banana, and thinkin’ about how smokin’ hot it’d be if Carmen Electra were goin’ down on a geoduck. You know, one a them schlong-shaped clams? Imagine that. Carmen Electra workin’ a geoduck. So I’m droolin’ through my MoonPie, and I see this big bright shiny electrified cross in my rear-view. Best I can tell it’s the good Lord above tellin’ me to change my lustful ways and imagine Carmen Electra goin’ down on somethin’ civil like an apple, or a Bible. Well the Lord puts the spirit in my feet, tells me to dance my love into the world like that Ellen fella that has his own talk show. I get to dancin’, stompin’- PRAISE HIM! And the what not. Well my case of the spirits is puttin’ the devil in ol’ Slopyard Jenny and next thing I know my Jim Croce CD is skippin’ like a madman and I’m ploughin’ into the guard rail faster than Roger Ebert can suck down a Slurpee. Next I’ve got a fireball bigger than George W’s balls and burns up and down my self. So can you, please, for the love of the Lord that struck me down, drive your most-likely-foreign-born ass to the hospital?
Rantasaurus Says: The good Lord giveth, and the good Lord taketh away. And I wish the good Lord would giveth me a bong to rip right about now.
LMAO, I like IT!!!