The Day the supervisor Kerfuckled off this mortal coil.

There were two Kevins, like the old saying, "one is for fighting, one is for fun."

Or yet, still, "We got drama, we got punch."

Have a gay old time.

Leg Kevin was talking about Katt Williams and the Chrysler 300.  I told him he was a lad that like to play with pocketknives.  Furthermore, I'da cut off my own thumb in the fever to get it out of my pocket.

"Mike's rapping again."

"Im gonna start stabbing motherfuckers."

"I like you Mike.  Come do mutual masturbation with my wife."

They were watching that fat lady with the Arkansas clearance coming across the way towards the stoop.  Glad we had an ass of fried chicken and Red Velvet cake up in there waiting.  If I'd already lost a thumb, she'd probably think my fingers were frog legs and shit me up further.

I coulda slow cooked them hams on that one, and then B was talking about forgetting his own knife that day, with me telling that was good, I'd get the jump on him that very day.

You heard of "kentucky windage", well, we had "Arkansas clearance" and Doug doing a Ted Talk on the state quarters explaining a few pertinent facts about Arkansas.

I had a plan to fuck-up Doug's motorcycle, but he quit before I met up with him.  "You can dump it in the grass."

Fuck your motorcycle, Doug.

In fact, fuck all yall.

Peace.  I'm out.