See, this is why I don’t need any stress in my life. Worry Warts. I had no idea these things were real. Now I know. It’s not the questionable women from questionable places that I sleep with giving me those weird bumps. It’s the WORRYING about what they might give me that gives me those bumps. These guys are a dead ringer for the bumps I got after picking up that female mechanic last week. Right down to the 3 hairs on their head.
She was a mechanic?
Yeah, a tranny. Works on transmissions and stuff. Duh!
La di da di da. *scrubbin’ away in the shower.* Oh that feels good. Can’t forget the butt crack. Wait a minute, whose- Oh it’s just my Realistic Severed Fingers Soaps. I thought I was going to have a problem there for a minute, but it’s my soap. I bought it. That makes it consensual. Still a surprise, but consensual.
I might consider melting these together so it feels like someone else is bathing me. Is that weird? What about putting a ring on one and pretending I am a blushing bride, just whisked off to my honeymoon in the Alps? The fire is blazing, the bath is warm and I’m innocent as can be as fingers gently wash my back.
Looking for a place to hang your guitar? This Zombie Hand Guitar Hanger And Wall Hook will do. You know, I’m sick of everyone perpetuating the war with zombies. I’m a peacemaker. I’m also a hell of a pizza maker, but that’s another story. Anyway, I would use this Zombie Hand to practice my diplomatic skills. And you can too.
First hang it low on the wall.
Next approach it slowly.
Then gently take the hand and shake it. Say “How do you do? My name is so and so. No, not sew and sew, that’s my grandmother.” Talk about how your peoples have been at war long enough and that it is time for a new golden age of friendship. Talk about Hope. Change. Say, Yes We can.
Then just do a 180 and cut the zombie’s damn fingers off if he doesn’t cooperate cuz that’s how politics works and they are all lying bastards. No wonder zombies hate you.
Make this Father’s Day special by giving dad the gift of tough dry meat in a heart shaped box. With Bigfoot on it. Holding a Rose. Because Bigfoot loves you. Can you hear the Barry White that he’s playing?
*Walks into forest.Waits a half hour. Hears STOMP STOMP STOMP. Bigfoot approaches.*
It’s about time you came to see your old man.
Well, I’ve been busy acting like an idiot on my blog. You smell like piss and *sniffs* more piss. Happy Father’s Day. *Hands him the heart shaped box of jerky.*
That’s very thoughtful son. *Bigfoot tears* Wait. Are you using my image without permission again?
No dad. I didn’t make it. The beef jerky came that way.
This is just like you son. We need to talk about responsibility-
*Throws hands up.* Here we go. How about “Thank you son. Now I don’t have to track and kill a deer tonight, which I can’t do anyway because I smell like piss and am like 10 feet tall.” This is why mom left. I’m-
*Sirens. Cop gets out of his car nearby.* I repeat, we have TWO of them. Bring ’em in alive and we’ll be rich!
I’m putting this Alien Egg Night Light in the bathroom so that the next time someone enters after me and says, “What the hell? Did you lay an Alien egg in there?” I can say yes. Yes I did. Enjoy it’s exotic glow mingled with the delicate yet putrid notes of my own natural scents.
This alien egg is pretty terrifying, but pretty cool. It’s where the Xenomorphs and facehuggers come from. They used to call me a facehugger too cause if I don’t like you or if you’re invading my space, my hand goes straight for the face and I don’t let go. No matter how much you lick at my palm. People think I’m all aggro and freaky, but really I’m just practicing the Vulcan mind meld. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work. You just end up with a bunch of friends with dents in their face that match your fingers. They never showed that part in your precious Star Trek. You live, ya learn. Read more “Alien Egg Night Light”
