It all started when I lost my shoes AGAIN. This time it was at the park in this little town up north. There was a lost and found through which I rummaged looking for them but they weren't anywhere to be found so instead I just decided to adopt some of the orphaned bastard shoes that some other drunk lost. Nobody was ever gonna claim them. They were ugly and gay.
Anyway, I got caught, and get this, they called the cops.
The cop was an evil little weight lifting bastard, the more I was nice and reasonable the more he saw it as an opportunity to fuck with me and be violent. He handcuffed me and put me in the back of his car which didn't even seem like an official police vehicle. I was like a mid eighties Cadillac with fast food garbage all over in the ripped up back seat. When I asked him about it he pistol whipped me and kicked me in the gut like 20 times. Yeah, unreasonable.
I coughed up gallons of goopy blood.
He was an AWFUL driver, we side swiped at least ten cars on the way to jail.
It didn't take me long to determine that he probably wasn't even a real cop and by the time I was standing before the fake judge I could see that I was right. Fake you ask? What judges do you know that hold court by candle light? Exactly. I was obviously doomed if I didn't do something to save myself.
Long, totally awesome story with lots of great details and plot twists short, I got loose from my handcuffs and killed the cop in the hallway. As he was laying there dying, gurgling blood still acting like an asshole, I maneuvered my butthole within an inch of his nose and farted. He deserved to die with a fart in his nose and so he did.
That's gonna be my move in the movie about my bad assery.
I doubt anyone will miss him, as I walked out of town everyone was trying to bloody high five me.
That wasn't me trying to sound british, my hands were actually bloody. DUH.
Anyway, small towns are nerdy.
Now Dominique:
That's all for now.
Don't get caught bragging about killing cops on the blog.
Your Anti-Hero,
Death Farter
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