I’ll poop on you
I bust open the door with one swift man-kick to it’s balls….
Me: “Your God has arrived.”
My loyal subjects: “I’m so happy to see you, oh Great One, manliest man of them all.”
My loyal subjects try to appease me with beer and football. They have gained my favor. No seriously, I love these girls. They truly are the best girls to hang around, unlike the bitch brigade that I’ll get to in a later note.
I make a quick stop in Shit for Brains room, only to realize that some mysterious invisible beer stealing pixie has consumed my carbonated alcoholic beverage. Time to get more.
A new she-male has joined their group. Who is she?
My loyal subjects: “Lord Omari, this is our friend…”
Before they can finish, I flip her off to try to get a quick read on her personality. She laughs. I shall not be an asshole towards her…
Hoffman: “DON’T FALL FOR IT!! HE’S TRYING TO RUN HIS GAME ON YOU!!”
I take my carbonated alcoholic beverage, and head back to my comrades.
Brown Sugar: “Seat check!”
We immediately take his seat and make bets on what he’ll do when he sees that his seat is taken. The plan is to ignore him if he says anything about his seat. He walks out of the bathroom and glances at us, knowing that we’re playing some kind of cruel game with him. Confused about what to do, he stares at us like a lost doe, and goes outside to smoke a cigarette. “I WIN MOTHER-FUCKERS! WHERE’S MY MONEY!!”
Puerto Rico gets up and calls seat check. He knows that we’re going to try the same thing with him, throws up his dukes, and says “If you mother-fuckers try that shit with me, you’ll have to deal with these whale killers!”. I’m going to assume that he’s referring to his last fat girl. No one dares to mess with a man who can kill a whale with his bare hands. His seat isn’t taken.
Shit for Brains enters our royal domain, also know as her bedroom…
Shit for Brains: “What the hell are you guys doing in here!? There are tons of girls in the front room. Come out there!”
I swear to God, if she doesn’t get out of the way of the TV, I am going to karate chop her in the back of her neck with my man-sized dick…
Me: “I have beer, and I have football. Go. Away. Now.”
Shit for Brains: “But, but, don’t you guys like girls?? Omari, I know you like girls!”
Me: “Hussy, be gone!”
She sees the manly look in my eyes, and knows that I mean business. The game is over, so it’s time go round up the heifers…
Havoc: “Dude, vodka!”
Me: “Quick, grab five shot glasses!”
We begin formulating a grand scheme. I am to stand in front of him, while he pours five shots. I know, brilliant, isn’t it? We succeed, and hold our heads high, as if we just knocked off the US Mint.
Puerto Rico and Johnson head off to talk to two girls and return, noting that one of the girls has a boyfriend. Did I say one of them? I meant the only girl. The other one is not to be considered human, as she is a cow.
I get a text, someone is begging me to come over to see her. “I dare you to text her, saying that’re you’re going to poop on her chest!” I can’t turn down a dare, so I do it.
A girl approaches me and mentions my piercing. She asks me for my name, and I decline. I keep declining, and she grows frustrated…
Me: “You don’t need to know my name. I’ll never see you again, so it doesn’t matter.”
I’m doing one of the things I normally do prior to taking a girl home. As Puerto Rico is walking by…
Puerto Rico: “HIS NAME IS OMARI!”
Puerto Rico, you’re a bastard…
Me: “I’ll give you my phone number, okay? I don’t call girls, so you’ll have to call me.”
Stubborn: “Well, I don’t call guys. I’ll give you my number, and you’ll have to call me.”
It’s a stalemate…
Stubborn: “You’re a different kind of guy. I like that. Most guys ask me for my phone number. You’re the first to offer his instead.”
Me: “I’m still not going to call you.”
Meanwhile, Havoc is trying to scale the walls (auditioning for the next Spider-Man movie, eh?), and ends up doing what he does best, creating havoc. CRACK! Both of our eyes flare open. “Did he just do what I think he did?” He quickly disappears, leaving behind a HUGE hole in the wall. I cover for him, only to find out that he eventually confessed…
Hoffman: “Omari, poop on her chest!”
As always expected when I get around a group of girls, a guy wants me to approach one, so he can see what I have. I tell him to pick out any girl that he wants, and he chooses the same girl that Puerto Rico and Johnson were talking to earlier.
I decide to have some fun, and approach using one of my little “psychic” games…
Girl and Cow: “You’re wrong, you’re wrong!”
I don’t know what happened; I am only wrong 100% of the time. What they failed to realize, is that I didn’t predict that my answer would be right, I predicted that they’d be swinging from my pubes like George of the jungle. My only purpose was to make them smile.
They’re hooked. Time to reel and release.
They ask me for my name, and I refuse at first, but eventually tell them. “Omarion!” What the fuck did she just call me? I turn my back and completely ignore them as they’re still talking to me. The girl (remember, the other one is not to be considered human) grabs me by my arm and turns me back around…
Me: “I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate you grabbing another guy like that.”
Girl: “Boyfriend? What boyfriend?”
Just goes to show you that boyfriends are nothing more than mythological creatures that cease to exist when a woman runs into a better guy…
Girl and Cow: “You have that whole mysterious guy thing going for you.” (just like the beast has that whole slaughter house thing going for her. Cow.)
As I’m preparing to exit, Hoffman throws her drink at Puerto Rico. Big fucking mistake. Man-law dictates that he not let her get away with that shit. He raises his drink high in the air, and dumps it all over her head.
I head to the restroom and return…
Megs: “Omari, Omari! Poop on her chest!”
I no longer have to poop.
References:
Are girls intimidated by good looking guys?
You Are Already Naturally Attractive To Women
Best Places For Hot Hungarian Women
ATTRACTING A GIRL WITH CANNED MATERIAL
Is Divorce a Crime? David Brooks Might Think So
Some Text Messages Deserve a Truckers Salute