The Sign Says She's Knocked Up

Hey!
The sign says
"No copulation"
What are you, blind or something?
Yep, I'm blind from excessive masturbation
That's what you get for ignoring your mother's advice
Actually my mother was always in favor of my habit
No drug problem or risk of getting a girl knocked up
You being blind works to her advantage
Nah dude, blind chicks are easy
I have a girlfriend
She's knocked up
Shit!

Good Night Wife

Good night boner
Good night wife
Good night pillow between me and my wife
Good night ceiling
Good night breasts
Good night notion of a good night's rest
Good night lips
Good night hips
Good night hands, clenching the sheet till it rips
Good night clock
Good night door
Good night laptop placed on the bathroom floor
Good night facebook
Good night old photos
Good night ex, who may have been crazy and irresponsible but god damn, at least she put out on weeknights, I mean I'm at a completely different part of my life than I was back then and I am overall much happier now, but still shit this really sucks.
Good night rationalizations
Good night door lock
Good night tissues since I don't have a sock
Good night paranoia
Good night squeaky toilet seat
Good night distractions as I focus on my meat
Good night guilt
Good night deflation
Good night to an uncomfortable situation
Good night "Clear Recent History"
Good night walk of shame
Good night nobody but myself to blame
Good night clock
Good night bed
Good night back of my wife's head
Good night wife
Good night boner

Degradation

I treat women the way I treat boners: always excited to show them off at the Old Country Buffet whenever I have one.

I pick my women the way I pick my scabs: the younger they are, the more they bleed.

I choose my women like I choose my cell phone: smaller than they were three years ago and permanently set to silent.

I take my prostitutes like I take my salsa: chunky with free refills.

I use women they way I use my subway pass: 2 or 3 rides and then donate them to a needy homeless person.

I enjoy my women the way I used to enjoy free trials of Cinemax & HBO: all the orgasms I can handle for a few weeks until they ask for money, then I spend the rest of the year jerking off while thinking about it.

I take a girl the way I take a suicide pill: once.

I eat pussy like I eat fast food: convince myself that it is ok to eat the cheese, and wipe off all the sperm from those other guys.

I use women the way I use the toilet: one massive disgusting poorly managed load stops her flow, then I panic and leave it for the next guy.

I treat women the way people treat their pets: pretend they have a personality so they feel better about it when they have sex with them.

I treat women the way Snapple treats the general public: distract them with interesting facts that can't be verified at the moment so they'll drink the nasty juice.

I take my women the way I take Splenda: I see them at Denny's at 2AM and for some reason I take them home with me, but the following morning they are nowhere near my coffee.

I fuck women the way I brush my teeth: It's just what I tell people I'm doing while I'm really just sitting on the toilet thinking about life.

I handle my women the way I handle dreams: when they are around I can't seem to fully appreciate or understand them, and when I wake up and they're gone I often spend many potentially productive hours trying to recapture them. In the rare instance that I do, they aren't quite the same as they were for reasons I can't explain.

I treat women the way I treat pumpkins: I used degrade them and use them for sex, but I have since found that I enjoy them more when I give them a smile and let them stick around.

I feel in an airport men's room how women must feel at bars: surrounded by disoriented awkward men trying to act smooth when they really just can't wait to take out their dicks; and then they try to maintain dignity as they discreetly fart. Yet still even after this they want to be taken seriously.

I take men the way I take Prince: I don't really care what your name is, and I don't care if my friends discover that I find you attractive.

I do men like I do boxing: land one cheap shot then claim my wrist hurts too much to finish the match and then I go bragging about it to my friends about it.

I fuck men the way I play darts: I swear that I'm aiming for the Bull's Eye, but somehow I always end up hitting someone in the face.

Men are like bugs: they often come in my mouth when I'm sleeping.

I treat men the way I make paper airplanes: I fold them in a series of improbable angles for my amusement with no direction in mind, then I toss them and start a new sheet before they even hit the ground.

I do men like I pluck nose hairs: if it takes more than one pull I lose interest.

I take my men the way I take my coffee: full of my sperm.

Sustainability

On a Thursday morning in the future, the world is devastated by the discovery that anybody who had eaten widely distributed meat products, foods with GMO, or large amounts high-fructose corn syrup was going to die a drawn-out torturous death, the onset of which happens when certain chemicals and additives present in these foods accumulate and age together within our tissues. There is no cure and no ambiguity in the "phases" of the illness, which begin suddenly as flipping a switch. There is only one symptom: all your major organs become become voluntary and require constant conscious operation. You will have to make your heart beat as though flexing your biceps, and you will have to push blood through the liver as though blowing dust off an old book.

After the announcement on the morning news, most of the civilized world made the decision to never leave the house again and surrender to fate. They discretely stocked up on bomb-shelter cuisine and minimized communication with the outside world. Nobody wanted to face the shitstorm of smugness and gloating that would be emanating from all the vegans who were already self-righteous even before their lifestyle saved them from a plague. Little did everyone know that the vegans were to do something far more insulting on the height of their great edification: Rather than simply shower the world with "told ya so"'s(2), they were humble and empathetic and did all they possibly could to help those who were willing to accept it.

Many non-vegans were bitterly offended by this. They rationalized that it is easy to be magnanimous when you know you are soon going to inherit control of the world. Vegans were accused of being the benefactor of a lucky choice they arbitrarily made. They were dubbed the trust fund babies of fate, heirs to a fortune they didn't earn.

People started becoming symptomatic in large groups. The first great wave of people were understandably the slowest to adapt, but the ones who survived documented their experiences for the benefit of their successors. Unfortunately they soon discovered their ability to orgasm at will, which distracted and killed everybody except for Donny Mazerbek, who found a unique use for this level of control. Donny maintained an erection for the entire 3-month duration of his career as a porn star.(1)

The subsequent waves of infectees had a higher ratio of survivors. Unfortunately, the only way they could survive was to sit in a trance-like dormant state, consuming the minimum required to stay alive, allocating their calories and nutrients with near-perfect efficiency. They never interacted with anybody unless forced to, and nobody went out of their way to communicate with them and thus risk causing a loved one to lose focus and die. In the later waves, even some vegans and vegetarians because symptomatic, as they had consumed enough GMO or meat with questionable FDA-approved additives or high fructose corn syrup at some point in their lives to have it eventually accumulate. In 3 years time, everybody who was going to succumb to the disease had isolated themselves in an almost comatose state, hidden from everything except some canned goods and a water source. Only the most extreme vegans who rigorously practiced their beliefs were left with free will.

Marissa recognized someone, "Merry Christmas, Brent." This was the most assertive thing Marissa had said in 8 months. "Oh thank you but I don't celebrate Christmas. I only celebrate holidays relating to the sun and the Earth and the cosmos; nothing that was made by religions that harbor genocide. Oh I'm sorry, not that I mind you celebrating Christmas, you are perfectly free to do that as well." "You're right Brent. Besides, now that the practice of speciesism is over, everyday is a celebration. Do you know what I mean? And it will be a celebration like this every day for the rest of our lives. How lucky we are." Brent flashed his version of a smile and expressed his form of friendly agreement, "Marissa, you always use the same words to describe the way you feel, but that is ok because it is still just as wonderful and joyous, and the words you use don't even matter." Then they both say at the exact same time, "I hope there will come a day when all the world can escape the confines of language altogether." Then they took a moment to smell one another, locked eyes, disrobed, and started having sex. They thought about how special that moment was. They thought about how renewed the world was. They thought about how great it was to be a part of it. Without words they knew procreation was the goal of this act. There were no condoms left anyway. It was a natural and beautiful act. She had coarse hair all over her legs the way some women are supposed to, with a mound of pubic hair obscuring the current of rapturous juices being churned. The flow ran down his scrotum, which from lack of undergarment support had stretched to a more natural level next to his kneecap. With majestically outstretched arms they held hands, and the interlocking hairs of their armpits diffuse the scent of stale fast-food taco meat around the perimeter. Razor blades and deodorant are still widely available, but a new standard of beauty has become universally accepted. People wanted to be as close to a "natural human state" as possible. Minimal clothing was worn, all hygiene products became unscented, with many people trying to hone in on the body's natural self-cleaning capabilities and doing away with bathing altogether. Pheromones were all the rage. The pursuit of this "natural human state" became the philosophy of everyone who was free to have philosophies.

During the waves of people dropping out of functional society, the population pretty much froze as nobody wanted to bring new life into such a depressing world. Brent and Marissa were not alone in their desire to rebuild a civilization that was more to their liking. Millions of emaciated hairy vegans started having pungent and itchy sex in the name of the "natural human state". Every disturbing publication about natural human sexuality that contradicted mainstream civilized courtship you may have read in stuffy liberal blogs and obscure sociology journals soon came true. Orgies were what a crowded cafe or night club once was. Since pleasure was no longer the goal, women took on multiple male partners in rapid succession to maximize chance of fertilization. The more squeamish among them would find each other independently and either procreate among themselves or gradually encourage one another into the orgies.

The children who were born of these activities and raised with this philosophy were taught to speak very little, but to instead use actions to show their feelings and desires. The children knew only who their mothers were, and they were never taught to crave structure, or even what the word meant. The adults would forgo speaking for months at a time. They lived in small dwellings and farmed what they needed to survive, leaving as little impact on the world as possible. Then something strange started to happen. Children would find that their guardians had disappeared, leaving them to fend for themselves or find another home-base. Finding another farm was never difficult, but as the trend continued, soon the children far outnumbered the adults. With more and more children being around and watching over the adults at all times, it was inevitable that some of them would see what was happening. In the middle of a long bout of silence and deep thought, the adult would spontaneously become part of nature. That is, they would dissolve into air and shrubbery, or vanish and a pond would appear where they were standing. Most commonly, however, they would turn into cows and other livestock. Eventually, there was nobody left to take care of these confused children. Until they started wandering and found large symmetrical buildings. These buildings were dilapidated and solemn, with no sound except the wind and their own footsteps. They entered the buildings through curious means and startled the equally confused inhabitants. In the words that their guardians taught them use with great thrift, the children spouted a deluge of stories and fears and questions. Some people died trying to pay attention to the stories. Some simply ignored the children and chose to remain dormant. Most of the world, however, took on the responsibility of properly raising these children and rebuilding civilization. Once their strength was recovered, everyone noticed that they hadn't aged much at all. They learned to divide their focus between their internal functions and contributing to society, and what was once seen as a debilitating handicap proved to be an inexhaustible asset. They taught the youth the lessons that their mistakes had taught them. With the fruits of knowledge came a craving for meat. After some time being weened onto a diet that could include meat, they needed to find a fresh new source. The children were happy to suggest a good place to find livestock. Each one knew the twisted path that delivered them to their new guardians, and they back tracked to a land with many ponds, shrubs, and cows. And the cow did not resist the axe, because it is a dumb tasty animal that humbly lives up to its natural and significant role in the world.



(1) Donny was a 398 lb pile of ingrown hairs and infected bed sores which were acquired from excessive online gaming. He maintained an erection for the 3 month duration of his career as he was ridden by 849 of the most horrified starlets, who were each required to act excited for a consecutive hour of bouncing on his erection, which was the only thing not obscured by flab. The fluid motion of his lopsided and indistinguishable torso region provided a revealing contrast to the gallery of fake titties. There was a busy vomit bucket at the foot of the bed. They were running low on women who needed the $400 when he finally met his end. Kerella Patches had recently become symptomatic; information she thought it prudent not to disclose to the director. She figured that a cluster of the most intense orgasms ever caught on film would boost her career. About ten minutes into her set, she unleashed an onslaught of euphoric expression, a battery of contortions and spasms and moans. Nobody noticed, but Donny died less than a minute after her first climactic twitch. She slid off the bed and noticed that he was still erect. He must have died just from watching her performance without actually getting off.

(2)Think just for a moment about how the world would react in the opposite situation: it is scientifically proven that all vegans are going to die of (blah) deficiency. As a vegan, you would be unable to escape the sneers and mockery of non-vegans. It wouldn't just be mockery from the uneducated and/or conservative pricks that can be easily ignored. It would be from everybody who has endured dating or being friends with someone who went through a "phase" in college, or anyone who has been confronted by a vegan zealot in front of a supermarket.