People in purple houses are kinda askin for it. It's not like one needs to search their pockets or look for an excuse to fuck with someone if they live in a purple house. They chose to paint their house PURPLE, what more excuse does one need? SHOW THEM WHAT'S UP!
That's what I did last night with a good buddy of mine. We got right up by the dudes window and whispered all kinds of zingers about the "exotic flowers". We whispered because whispering flower insults is way scarier than saying them out loud.
"Look at this." my buddy whispered. "The fucking purple siding is LOOSE."
"What an idiot" I said. "Flip it, make it make a funny noise."
By this time the old man who owned the place had cracked a curtain and was peeking out the window watching us.
"Flip it, make it make a funny noise." I said a second time.
"Flllooiiignngggblbnblblblbppptptptptptpt."
"Hahah, that's awesome, sounds like cartoons!" I said.
My buddy had a look of great satisfaction.
Well, the old man had about enough of this shit, we saw the crack in the curtains close. I knew that he was probably putting on some Homer Simpson slippers. That's what I do when somebody makes funny noises with the loose siding on MY house.
"Lets' get outta here." I said.
The old man exited his house and headed for his shed. I'm from Utah so I know that old men with Homer Simpson slippers only go to the shed to get the shotgun, the lawn mower or a bag of potting soil.
"Seriously Prince, we gotta get the fuck outta here, I don't wanna get mowed."
Look, I didn't mention my friend was Prince at the beginning of the story because I know how you are, you'd be all up in your shorts about me bragging about my famous friends and you wouldn't have paid attention. You also would have probably given unnecessary significance to the fact that we were fucking with a purple house. It's your fault for being shallow. Anyway, just TRY to ignore the fact that it's Prince because it really has NOTHING to do with the story. He's just a regular guy here. Purple has nothing to do with this either. The story isn't about PRINCE. He's just there, being regular.
Prince hopped the fence and disappeared into the tall weeds. Well tall for him anyway, they were really only about waist high for a non-Prince sized person. I made it to the weeds just before the old man started the lawn mower. My heart was racing.
Prince's phone had been ringing the whole time.
"You should answer that, the old guy is gonna be able to track us through the weeds with your cell phone ringing like that."
"Can't answer it, I'm twittering all of this." he said.
Not to bust Prince's balls, but his tweets are all stolen from Carmen Electra. Trust me, the dude is STILL OBSESSED. It's kinda sad.
"Seriously dude, you gotta stop that phone from ringing, we are going to get mowed man."
Prince stopped for a second, got a destructive grin on his face and threw his phone straight into the air. It popped like a firecracker and made a little glowing purple puff -- duh. See, that's another reason I didn't want to tell you it was Prince because now you were expecting a purple exploding phone. If it was a regular guy you'd be all "WOW A PURPLE EXPLODING PHONE"
Anyway, the weeds were actually taller than I said, over my head even (and FURRY) but one can't tell a story about Prince without mentioning how tiny he is now can one. Still though, forget I said that, he's just a regular guy in this story. NOT ABOUT PRINCE.
When we finally got to town, since we were being chased by a man with a lawn mower a gun and possibly a bag of potting soil, I looked for a cop.
Suddenly, right there in front of me, next to a bent parking meter, was the only cop that I've ever actually known.
"Bruce, how weird, I was just looking for a cop and here you are, the only cop that I've ever actually known.."
Bruce was my first step dad. He turned out to be every lame cop stereotype times three. He even went so far as raising falcons as a hobby. He also maintains a perm and has a mustache -- duh.
He gave me the same "you abandoned ME look" look he always gives his former step kids and actual kids. You see, Bruce convinced himself that when he left my mom, my sister and his two kids, that we somehow abandoned HIM. He definitely went above and beyond the deadbeat call of duty and actually made my little brother and sister feel like it was their fault that he only came around once a year at Christmas time.
But this time his look was even more shifty, more nervous. I noticed my Grampa, his dad, standing behind him. Grampa never gave us the abandonment trip because he stuck around.
But now even Grampa wasn't making eye contact with me.
Of course by this time I had forgotten about being chased by an old man with a gun, a lawn mower, and a bag of potting soil. The fun was over. Now I had to deal with BRUCE.
"Look, I want you to meet my son." He said.
I turned to see a kid who was essentially his clone. Can perms be passed through genes?
I tried to be cool, I tried to be an adult, I knew this new person standing in front of me had nothing to do with how fucked up Bruce was to my brother and sister.
I sucked it up...
..for a few seconds...
...and then I started to cry.
I'm not sure why. I didn't even know he had a kid besides my brother and sister and as soon as I realized he did something in me just cracked. I think I was crying for my brother and sister who he completely abandoned and treated like shit for their whole lives. I had my own father who was great so I was set. My little sister, his daughter, was young enough that when step-dad two came along, she just saw him as her dad. But my little brother, his son, was too old not to notice my dad coming to pick me and my older sister up on Saturday. He was too old not to know his dad was making the choice to not pick him up on Saturday too.
Even as a kid I'd get a knot in my throat if I thought about that.
All my tears quickly turned into a rage about which I won't be typing here because this is a SAFE FOR WORK family blog.
You'd think that seeing him at least having a relationship with one son would make him less of a monster.
Well it didn't, it made him worse. Way worse. It means he knew better.
Anyway, a couple of minutes passed and this is the part of the story where you find out just how much of a regular guy Prince is.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around.
"Merkley" he said. "THIS is what it sounds like, when doves cry."
"HAHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAH"
We laughed and laughed and laughed until every type of tear that could flow sprayed out of our faces.
"Pur-ple Rain, Pur-ple rain...." he sang.
"HAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHHHAAAAAAAAAA"
And then he kept doing lyrics from his songs until he wrecked the joke. He is a bit of an attention whore.
Point is:
Give Prince a break, he is really really short. He means well.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught giving Prince the key line when in fact it was you that turned to him and did the "when doves cry" joke.
Your Liason to The Stars
John Deere
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