I Will Not Be Outdone On Valentine's Day By Jim From The Fucking Plant
Now, some of you may remember that I'm not too keen on Valentine's Day. It's just not my cup of tea, okay? I'll do the occasional rose or punch in the face, of course, but I'm not one of those queer cupid shits.
But this year, things might be a little bit different, I have a feeling. The reason I feel this way is because the other day, my buddy Jim Shit Asshole from the plant was bragging his shit off about what he's going to do on Valentine's Day. And so help me Jesus The Fucking Lord Christ, I will not be outdone by that buck-toothed ass.
It all started when we were on our four second lunch break because the plant doesn't give nine shits about old Petey's stomach, no FUCKING SIREE. Jim was eating one of those sandwiches that he always has, using his NINETEEN FOOT TEETH to bite the fuck into it.
"What are you doing for Valentine's Day, Pete?" he asked me, some kind of GREEN LANTERN FUCKING LETTUCE sticking out of his mouth.
"SHIT, that's what," I told him. "I got burned last year, when nobody appreciated anything I fucking did for them. SO NO ST. SHIT'S DAY FOR ME!"
"Well that's too bad," he said, a little SMUG SHIT SMILE on his face, and then the fucker just kept on eating, pretending like I didn't want to know why he said that.
"PRETEND THIS, ASSHOLE!" I shouted, and closed my metal TOO FUCKING HEAVY lunchpail on his eye. "NOW TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN!"
After he stopped his pussy-fuck bleeding, Jim told me he had "big plans" for Valentine's Day, like putting rose petals down all over the place, and buying shit, and probably having gay fucking sex, and even doing stuff before the actual date of February 14th!
"I'm going to be a regular Casanova," he said, probably SHITTING HIS PANTS. "The most romantic guy in town."
"You're a regular fruit," I grumbled, and stepped on his testicles as I left the lunch room. But I was thinking about what he said. Yes sir, I was thinking about it.
What I realized is that Jim, with his SHIT ASS TEETH and his MOTHER FUCK SANDWICHES, doesn't deserve to be the best at anything, even something as fucking fucked as Valentine's Day. So I decided that I'd be damned if I let him get away with it.
That night, I bought a whole bag of those candy Valentine's Day hearts that say all kinds of shit on them, like "Let's Kiss", and "I'm A FUCKING DICK". Then, I headed down to my workshop to get to work scraping off the actual lettering and putting on my own -- things like "Shut The Fuck Up" and "You Burned My Dinner Again, God Damn It". It was hard work, and I didn't even eat anything while I did it, since my wife couldn't even bring me the right kind of FUCKING CRACKERS to eat while I did it.
"DOWN!" I shouted when I was done, which my wife understands as a command to immediately come down to my workshop. "I NEED TO SHOW YOU SOME SHIT!"
"Yes, Pete?" she said, PROBABLY DOING SOMETHING TO ANNOY ME.
"'Yes, Pete?'" I repeated, putting a dinner plate in my clamp and crushing it. "DON'T CALL ME BY THAT FUCKING NAME!"
She looked confused because she's a LACKER IN THE OLD BRAINS DEPARTMENT, but I ignored it and said: "Even though I know you won't appreciate it because you're an ungrateful FUCK SWINE, I made you something: VALENTINE'S SHIT HEARTS!"
Then I threw one at her and said kindly, "CAN'T YOU READ IT? VACCUUM THE FUCKING RUG!"
As she ran up the stairs, I knew I had won against Jim, Lord Of The Fucking Buck-Toothed Assholes. I still haven't figured out what I'm going to do on the actual Valentine's Day, but you can bet on this, Jim: IT'LL KICK THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR CASABLANCA FUCKING FUCK.
