Editorial Archives: The Other Night

The Other Night
August 16, 2006

This is a story about what happened to me the other night… if you couldn’t tell from the name of this Editorial.

I was sitting at home watching TV, more than likely something awesome like a judge show or Maury, where some dumb bitch was pregnant and didn’t know which one of the 30 guys sitting next to her was the baby’s daddy, and during a commercial break I heard a loud BANG outside. I paused the TV, and went outside to investigate.

It was already dark, but I could see a glow going on just down the street from my house, so I walked down the street towards the light and the closer I got the brighter the glow became. Finally I saw what it was… some dumbass drove their car straight into a telephone pole and the car was now a burning heap of metal. I ran over to it and saw a little old lady sitting in the driver seat, yelling in her old frail voice, “SOMEBODY, PLEASE HELP ME!” I stood there, pointing and laughing at her for a few minutes, and then decided to get a slushi.

I continued down the street until I got to our local Arabian Convenience Store and I walked in. I wasn’t greeted by anybody, because Arabians only care about you if you buy something from them. Otherwise, you better shop quick or they’re calling the cops on you.

I got to the slushi machine and it was out of ice. I slowly turned around and asked, “When will this be running again?”

“You shop or you leave. NOW.”

This pissed me off. I’m not about to be yelled at by some foreign guy. Or anyone for that matter. So I yelled back.

Me: I WANT A GOD DAMNED SLUSHI NOW!
Him: YOU SHOP OR YOU LEAVE, NOW!
Me: FIX THE FUCKING MACHINE AND GIVE ME A MOTHER FUCKING SLUSHI, NOW!
Him: I CALL COPS NOW!
Me: CALL THE MOTHER FUCKING COPS BITCH! I’M NOT FUCKING LEAVING UNTIL I GET A GOD DAMNED SLUSHI!

He picked up the phone and started to dial.

Him: I CALL COPS NOW!
Me: CALL THE FUCKING COPS, AND TELL THEM TO BRING A SLUSHI WITH THEM, OR I’M GOING TO GO APE SHIT ON ALL YOU MOTHER FUCKERS!

Just then I felt a tap on my back. I spun around and yelled “WHAT?!” and saw a shocked little Arabian lady standing behind me. She pointed to the slushi machine and said, “It’s working now.”

I thanked her and got an extra large slushi with both the red and the blue syrups and walked up to the counter. The man had already put down the phone, since I was now shopping. He told me how much the slushi was and I paid him. It sucked that I didn’t have any change on me, because I didn’t have the correct change and now I had a handful. I hate change.

I walked out of the store content with my slushi, and started back home. As I was walking home I saw a homeless man sitting on his lazy ass on the sidewalk with a sign. The sign had some horrible homeless guy sign cliche on it so I didn’t bother reading it. As I walked by he held up a little cup and asked for some change. Finally, I could get rid of my change that I had for the last two minutes.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out all of the change the Arabian man gave me, which included 3 quarters, a dime, a nickel, and 3 pennies. I carefully removed the 3 pennies and the nickel and gave those to him. I continued down the sidewalk just several steps to the next closest storm drain and I threw the rest of my change into it. I hate change.

After that it started to rain and I didn’t have an umbrella, so I was starting to feel really uncomfortable. I mean, rain doesn’t bother me at all, it was just a bitch. I dealt with it because I would be home soon, and that’s more than the homeless guy had. You know, a home, dry clothes, a job, food, stuff like that.

As I got back to my street I saw the fire department had just showed up to the flaming car and they were hosing it off. Again I stopped to point and laugh at the old lady that crashed. As I continued down the street I heard another explosion and turned around to see the gas tank on the car had finally gone up, and several of the firemen were now on fire. This was horrible. I turned and ran back to the scene to where the firemen were now running around ablaze and stopped to point and laugh at them for a few.

Exhausted, I got back into my house and sat down to finish the show and my slushi. Just as Maury was about to say which guy was the father of the baby the whore had, the show cut off and went to a breaking news story of the little old lady that crashed into the telephone pole. Now I’d never know if the woman found the father or not.

I went to bed depressed because I never got to hear the paternity results. I cursed up to the heavens, wondering if life could be any worse for me.

I hate not knowing who the baby daddy is.

2 responses to “Editorial Archives: The Other Night

  1. So was this a fucked up dream that you had or did you just get drunk one night and think this up?

    Either way, fucking hilarious.

  2. Drunk thought.

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