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Kevin's on Crack. And I don't mean the one behind his genitals. I mean crack. Like the crackbird. The crackbird came from the Comfy, along with Paul. Paul lives in the Comfy Lounge. He has a degree in Biology, which is the reason he can't get a job. Also the fact he must answer yes when asked if he lives in the Comfy Lounge. Jonathan spends time in the Comfy Lounge too. He's hot. I think he's sooo good. Don't you? Melissa does. She has big jugs. I mean really big. They're huge. You know who else has big jugs? That chick with the 60" bust. Her husband died from suffocation between her breasts. The last sound he was heard to make was some sort of perverted gurgling. You know what else gurgles? Paul. And prostitutes when you pay them enough. But we'll pretend I didn't actually say that. There's a lot of things I don't say. I don't say I worship the almighty sock puppet. I don't say I'm addicted to things that are green. I don't claim to be a neo-nazi transvestite stripper with an overgrown testicle problem. That would be wrong. You know what else is wrong? Things that just aren't right. Like this email. It's just wrong. This email deserves to be shot. You know what people shoot? Heroin. Not the kind that runs around saving people by throwing their high heels, and not the kind that the Wild Strawberries plastered all over their CD. I mean heroin. You know what's like heroin? Crack. Crack messes you up. You know what else messes you up? Seven hits of Acid. Apparently six hits is okay. I read that somewhere. I think it was on a pamphlet Aren gave me. Actually, I'm pretty certain it was on a pamphlet Aren gave me. It suddenly occurs to me I have absolutely no idea exactly who Erin actually is. He's some mythical being Chris told me about. You know who else is named Chris? Chris. And Chris. And that other guy, Chris. Man, I know a lot of people named Chris. I also know someone named Paul. He needs better personal hygiene. I've been told he showers once a term. In the PAC. While living in the Comfy Lounge. Naked. On a Beach. With a tattoo on his penis that says "Welcome Aboard." Wait, that's me. I don't know why I got that tattoo. I think I was drunk. And a sailer. On a submarine. The submarine went down a lot. But we won't go there. Wait, that was in a bad movie with Frasier in it. You know what else had Frasier in it? The TV show Frasier. And Cheers. Cheers is what you say when you're taking a drink. Or a hit of acid. I'm up to eighteen now myself. And waaay too much crack. I probably should have stopped a couple hours ago, but that stuff is just so damned addictive. You know what else is addictive? Bridge. Or so I've been told. Chris and Andy and Omid and Jonathan were playing Bridge at Abstract friday. But it was Andy's idea, Chris brought the deck of cards, Jonathan knew the rules, and Omid was a decoration. He's cute. And very predictable. If I put my arm around him, he squirms out from it. And when I KISS him. Man, does he ever go ape shit. You know what else goes ape shit? Apes, when they shit. That's not very fun to watch. Not that I know from personal experience, or anything...



...


Alright, I do. I've also heard that the Pope poops in the woods. Or is that bears... I'll never know. I supppose if a bear ever became Pope, the problem would be solved. Of course that would be a really bad smelling Pope. You know who else smells bad? Paul. No really, he does. If I could rank his stench from one to a hundred, he'd easily make eighteen thousand. I know some Nosferatu who smell better. And look better. His beard is way too scruffy. You know who else has a scruffy beard? Chris. Not Chris, but Chris. No, the other Chris, what are you thinking? Crack munch? Wait, that's one of Jonathan's sayings. Like the Crackbird. Which came from the Comfy. With Paul. Who lives in the Comfy Lounge. And smells bad. And is a card carrying member of the CSC. That does not stand for Comfortable Scotch Carrousels. That would be just silly. You know what else is silly? Jumping up and down screaming "Froynlaven!" I saw that on Animaniacs once. It was silly. And it was good. You know where you can find the words "And it was good" a lot? The bible. The bible explains a lot of things. Like the origins of brain damage. I mean seriously. I want you to get a bible. And not one that has words missing. Get one that includes every little detail, right down to where it describes the vicious nasty mole on Jesus's nose. And I want you to read Genesis. Not now! If you look really carefully, you will notice that whenever God creates something, the bible says "And God saw that it was good, said that it was good, and it was good." It never says this when he creates Adam. Because he started fucking up almost instantly. And so God created Eve, to try to keep Adam out of shit. It didn't help that Adam was an almost constant source of shit, but that was just part of the job description. And so the snake tells Eve to bite the apple from the tree of knowledge, and Eve says "duh, okay," and takes a chomp. Then she tells Adam to, and because she was one hot mama (rumor has it she had bigger jugs than Melissa), Adam goes "Hell yeah!" And bites it too. And then God looks down, and becomes very pissed off. And he says "BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY!" This was not a blessing. God was angry! This was a punishment! And this is the source of the curse from parents saying "I hope your kids do to you what you did to me!" And so Adam and Eve went off, and multiplied. And they had two fruits. And one of the fruits became angry at the other, and killed him. There was no reason for it! He could have moved to Florida. It's not like the world was overpopulated at the time. It was the beginning of brain damage. You know who seems to have brain damage? Paul. He's messed up. Almost like he's had too much tarpeat. I'm up to forty two hits myself. Forty two is the meaning of life. And the question is "What's five times nine?" Obviously God was not a math major. Maybe he was an artsie, which would explain why he's currently unemployed. You know who else is unemployed? Paul. This is because he has really strange looking glasses. Alright, not really. I think his glasses make him look hot. Wait, did I type that out loud? ...


Ignore that. I never said it. That's because I'm typing an email, and saying it would just be silly. You know what else is silly? Plutonium. It's just fun to say. Plutonium. How's your plutonium? Fine, thank you. You know who else is fine? That guy who keeps picking his nose. Wait, that's Paul. Never mind. He makes me want to puke. You know what else makes me want to puke? Seeing vomit laid out all over the kitchen bathtub. Not that a kitchen bathtub is a common thing. Actually, I have never personally seen one before. I doubt its existence. But should I ever see a kitchen bathtub, I will be certain to hurl in it. I don't know if the owner of the bathtub would actually appreciate me doing it, that's why I'm going to be obfuscated at the time. All he will see is vomit appearing from nowhere. Which will make him puke. And it will all be good. Except for the parts that won't be. Like the carrots. Carrots are disgusting. I don't know why, in fact I don't hold that opinion. I just felt like typing it in. This is a sentence that tells the reader the writer is on crack. This sentence attempts to not be self referential, but fails miserably. I apologize for the silly parts of this email, they will be deleted shortly. There, they're gone. Now all that's left are the fuzzy good parts. You know who else is fuzzy? Paul. I rubbed him once. He was fuzzy. And it was good. From Paul I learned that I don't like sauerkraut. I think this is because he smells bad, and I automatically associate bad smelling things with sauerkraut. Like toxic waste. This means toxic waste must be sauerkraut. It's only logical. You know what else is logical? Logic. Wait, that doesn't make sense. I thought the silly parts of this email were supposed to be removed! Hey, wait, they were. Almost makes you want to know what was deleted, doesn't it? The stuff that I removed really sucked. You know who else sucks? Britney Speares. And man, does she ever suck well! She could suck start a snowblower. And I'm not talking about her music, either. Not that I know from personal experience...


...

Alright, so I do. It was in the Comfy Lounge. With Abba. Man, they're old. But man, do they ever know what they're doing. I, on the other hand, do not know what they're doing. They turned down a billion dollars that was offered to them to tour for a few months. You know what I could do with a billion dollars? Because I sure don't. I have no idea at all what I would ever do with a billion dollars. Probably give some to Paul. He could use some money. He's probably going to die a hobo. Or a drifter. Or in the Comfy Lounge. Or all of the above. But man, does he ever have a cute ass. I'll use that ass as a pillow any day. And when he farts, I can vomit in the bathtub. Man, does he stink. But not at oral sex. ...Or so I've heard. Oh man, I can't believe I just typed that. That's sooo wrong. But you know what isn't wrong? Pecans. You can never go wrong with pecans. I know. I've tried. I fed them to my cat. He died. Then I fed them to my hamster. She died. Then I fed them to my girlfriend, Dawn. She died. From this I figured out I need to pick better pets. You know where you can get good pets? ... heh heh heh...


shit


That wasn't supposed to make it into the email. Who's editing this thing anyways? You know who could use some editing? Paul. He looks like he needs a pet. Like a lobster. Wait, he doesn't have a vagina. Or so I hope... We'll ask Randy later. You know what else we'll ask Randy? Because I don't. I try to just smile and nod when he talks. Like a gerbil. You know what else is like a gerbil? Gerbils. Gerbils look sorta like rats, only completely different. Rats spend almost half their life cleaning themselves. The other half they spend asleep. So does Paul, except replace 'cleaning himself' with 'living in the Comfy.' You know who else lives in the Comfy? Nobody. There's a reason for that. His name is Paul. He's a smelly man. A very smelly man. I'm up to a hundred and three shots of heroin now. That has absolutely no intrinsic value whatsoever on this email, I just thought I'd fill you in. You know how else I can fill you in? Well I'll just have to show you then. Back to the email...





Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow... Sorry, was that out loud? I'm just testing random things. Like lepercy. Narcolepsy. Insomnia. Whatever it is Paul has. Have you noticed the running gag of Paul? I don't know if he spends any time running. He weighs more than the two of us combined. Maybe for a nice tarpeat sandwich. He could run for president. I don't know what he could run for president of, but I'm sure he could run for president. He'd probably lose, but he could damn well run. He'd probably run if someone chased after him with a leperous steak knife. Wait, that doesn't make any sense. Oh well. Wells are cool. And deep. You know what's deep? Paul. I tossed Paul down a well once. He made a satisfying thump when he hit the bottom. Then he crawled back up, and kicked my ass. He hit me with a llama. Fortunately, the llama had an escape hatch. It led to Vancouver. You know what's in Vancouver? Not Paul. Lots of sauerkraut. I decided not to stay, since I don't like suaerkraut. I ran into a moose. The moose did not appreciate this. This might be because I was driving. A car. On the highway. Squirting napalm. Directly at it. Repeatedly. Repeatedly is an adequate substitute for the word accidentally. I accidentally dropped my great grandmother's gravy boat, and it broke. I had to accidentally drop the sucker forty seven times, but it broke. You know who else is broke? Paul. He reminds me of a sweater. He's always wearing a sweater. Sweaters are made of wool. Wool comes from sheep. This means Paul is perpetually inside a sheep. Paul must be a redneck. If your mom's penis is bigger than yours, you might be a redneck. Rednecks are everywhere. Wait, that's the Matrix. Obviously, the Matrix is a redneck. That is fuzzy logic. Descartes had fuzzy logic. Penguins have fuzzy logic. Therefore, Descartes was a penguin. Penguins are black and white. Old TV shows are black and white. Therefore, Descartes is an old TV show. Old TV shows are boring. Paul is boring. Therefore, we should ship Paul off to Antartica. It's really cold in Antartica. It's also really cold outside. I hope you sleep well Dawn, and I will always be there to hold you and keep you warm.

Chris


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