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satanic goatslayer
New member
I hate birthdays. I really do. I think it has to do with the fact that when I was younger, my "guardians" used to throw me ridiculous parties and they would invite legions of people that I hated.
And so it was, every 4th of November I would come home from school, the crack house next door etc...and find balloons and other decorations all set up for me. In my head I was thinking "Fuck me" but I put on my game face and acted all surprised when the inevitable "SURPRISE" came at me. And there they would be, my classmates, my guardian's friend's kids, and an assortment of other rejects whom I wished an agonizing demise.
I remember one year, after the traditional "SURPRISE!!", I noticed a man with a red wig sitting on the picnic table.
"Mom! What the fuck? Don't tell me you got me a goddamned clown you dumb cunt. Tell it to leave mom, tell it now!"
Mom was shocked, and told me that the clown was for the other, more easily amused mongrel children.
Fine, I'll help him with his act. I stole his spritzer bottle and filled it up with ammonia from under the sink. Then I walked out and sprayed him in the eyes with it. He screamed and ran around asking for help. Being the nice guy that I am, I rammed sparklers into his eyes and lit them. As I sat around singing "Blue Christmas" by Elvis, the others were busy running away and throwing rocks at me.
Now that I've grown up and have my own children, I like to hire clowns for them on their birthdays. Only instead of laughing at the clown's antics, we all shoot our pellet guns at it. Finally, the birthday boy/girl gets to deliver the final death blow with a weapon of their choosing. Isn't that what parenting is all about? Giving your children the things you never had. I think so.
And so it was, every 4th of November I would come home from school, the crack house next door etc...and find balloons and other decorations all set up for me. In my head I was thinking "Fuck me" but I put on my game face and acted all surprised when the inevitable "SURPRISE" came at me. And there they would be, my classmates, my guardian's friend's kids, and an assortment of other rejects whom I wished an agonizing demise.
I remember one year, after the traditional "SURPRISE!!", I noticed a man with a red wig sitting on the picnic table.
"Mom! What the fuck? Don't tell me you got me a goddamned clown you dumb cunt. Tell it to leave mom, tell it now!"
Mom was shocked, and told me that the clown was for the other, more easily amused mongrel children.
Fine, I'll help him with his act. I stole his spritzer bottle and filled it up with ammonia from under the sink. Then I walked out and sprayed him in the eyes with it. He screamed and ran around asking for help. Being the nice guy that I am, I rammed sparklers into his eyes and lit them. As I sat around singing "Blue Christmas" by Elvis, the others were busy running away and throwing rocks at me.
Now that I've grown up and have my own children, I like to hire clowns for them on their birthdays. Only instead of laughing at the clown's antics, we all shoot our pellet guns at it. Finally, the birthday boy/girl gets to deliver the final death blow with a weapon of their choosing. Isn't that what parenting is all about? Giving your children the things you never had. I think so.
