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Holly Randall Is No Wayne Chery

I arrive home at 1am and get on my computer, the only thing in this world that doesn't cringe when I turn my attentions toward it. Then I look down. I've tracked Holly's mud into my hovel. I vacuum and scrub but I can't get rid of the filth...the filth of a WOMAN!!!! Her mud is all over my hovel, all over my shoes and jeans, and all over my life. It's time for a massive housecleaning. Or a massive masturbatory ritual of some kind.

A New Year means a new beginning. I never make New Year's resolution, but this year I make one to clean the mud out of my life...and to try to contact my friend Wayne Chery to see if he can take away my pain and confusion. I was never confused when I was riding on the back of lovely Wayne's mini-bike.

With the wisdom of hindsight, I now realize I should've stuck around so that I could've gotten in line and tasted Chris (and her other lovers) on Holly's lips. She did call my home at 12:24pm to say that she wanted to kiss me (along with about 20 other guys I'm sure).

And now I will make it my life's mission to mock Holly and write horrible things about her because she rejected me. What a glorious sensation it would've been to have tasted those drunken men on her mouth and breathe in their smell on her body...it wouldn't have been the same as a gang-rape by a mob of wallabies, but it would have been wonderful anyway.

With a few more drinks, I bet Chris, Holly and I could've smoothed our differences with a double-anal scene videotaped by her parents and lit by her siblings...and I imagine with a little prompting on my part, I could have talked Chris into letting me focus my love on him alone. He's sad substitute for darling Wayne Chery, but what can I do? Just by hanging with Holly, I can feel what it's like to be banged by 40 guys. And I like it!

Bring on the boys! Daddy? Can you hear me? Your little joey is no longer latent. He's blatant. Blatantly gay!

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I don't have any idea what to say... except

Let the flaming begin...