CHIP CHAT

Greetings, Shitasses - 

I was just sitting in my apartment, eatin’ some chips, watching my stories and I had a revelation: I am on the bad end of an abusive relationship. I live in upstate NY.

 
I finally understand why the black-eyed, big-hearted working mother stays with the foul-mouthed, cowardly woman beater: because there are the good times. Half of the year, I am t-shirted and happy in the warmth of spring and summer. And the other half? Well, I spend it getting my dick twisted during a sunless, five month barrage of snow and ice. If that isn’t bad enough, the wind pumps off and ejaculates the hellish snow and ice mixture right into my face. But, there are the good times.

 
For instance, I remember the Sun. How it burned my pale skin. How it warmed the days I’ve had the most fun. How it makes ladies’ tits sweat. One specific episode I remember that helps me keep the faith in my upstate NY relationship happened while I was on a date with a pretty girl. We had dinner, drinks and good conversation. During which, my vocabulary was surprisingly clean. On the walk home, I had an emergency. The kind that would ruin a date, and also a pair of pants. I told her we should run so that I didn’t shit all over our date and we ran. Oh, how we ran. Half-way home she stopped me, mid poop-sprint, grabbed me and kissed me right on the mouth for at least a minute. Her nose breath was warm and her wonderfully soft mouth tasted like booze, but made me forget everything. This was the kind of moment that stops your heart for a second and restores your faith in EVERYTHING. And also makes you forget you’re about to poop your pants.

 
It’s memories like that which keep me, and the rest of us I presume, in Upstate New York. Remember the good times, friends. Maybe you almost pooped your pants. Maybe you did poop your pants. Whatever your good time, remember it. If you have no pleasant memories of warm and sunny days, remember this: Gary loves you.

 
Say it. “Gary loves me.”

Yyyyyyeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhh.

 
Chips,
Gary