Profile for Frizbeast:
Tipper!
Sharky!
Lumper!
Damselcopter!
Space-Putz!
Li'l Beastie!
Paint Cat is hogging your screen!
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- a member for 17 years, 2 months and 13 days
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- has posted 1 stories and 0 replies on question of the week
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Tipper!
Sharky!
Lumper!
Damselcopter!
Space-Putz!
Li'l Beastie!
Paint Cat is hogging your screen!
Recent front page messages:
Best answers to questions:
» Well, that taught 'em
The surprise O!
My highschool girlfriend went away to college, and since I hated my classes, I dropped out and followed her up on her offer: “You can stay with me in my apartment—don’t worry about rent. Everything will be great!” I took her word for it, and packed my things. I was young, inexperienced, and I had it bad for the girl, and I thought she felt the same. After four days of driving, I arrived, only to find that she’d been screwing other guys, and hadn’t been spending many nights at her place. I moved in anyway, thinking I was man enough to change her ways. Was I wrong--she had become a slut, and there was no return. I still had her apartment, though we didn’t hang out much. She’d stop by every so often to pick up some of her things, and then leave. I was tolerant at first, but after three months of this, I’d had enough, and I was ready for the incident that ended it. She busted in without a word and slinked into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” sez I, to which she replied, “Getting a spoon for my icecream.”
“Don’t you think you should call and let me know when you’re coming over?” I asked.
“No,” She replied, coldly, “Most of this stuff is mine, anyway.”
That did it. I sprung up, throttled her, grabbed her pint of icecream, and jammed it into her face. She cringed back, slamming her head into the wall; Vanilla Swiss Almond dripping down her face in sploogesque rivules. Her mouth became an “O” of disbelief, and she turned and stumbled out the door.
I was history.
(Fri 27th Apr 2007, 16:39, More)
The surprise O!
My highschool girlfriend went away to college, and since I hated my classes, I dropped out and followed her up on her offer: “You can stay with me in my apartment—don’t worry about rent. Everything will be great!” I took her word for it, and packed my things. I was young, inexperienced, and I had it bad for the girl, and I thought she felt the same. After four days of driving, I arrived, only to find that she’d been screwing other guys, and hadn’t been spending many nights at her place. I moved in anyway, thinking I was man enough to change her ways. Was I wrong--she had become a slut, and there was no return. I still had her apartment, though we didn’t hang out much. She’d stop by every so often to pick up some of her things, and then leave. I was tolerant at first, but after three months of this, I’d had enough, and I was ready for the incident that ended it. She busted in without a word and slinked into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” sez I, to which she replied, “Getting a spoon for my icecream.”
“Don’t you think you should call and let me know when you’re coming over?” I asked.
“No,” She replied, coldly, “Most of this stuff is mine, anyway.”
That did it. I sprung up, throttled her, grabbed her pint of icecream, and jammed it into her face. She cringed back, slamming her head into the wall; Vanilla Swiss Almond dripping down her face in sploogesque rivules. Her mouth became an “O” of disbelief, and she turned and stumbled out the door.
I was history.
(Fri 27th Apr 2007, 16:39, More)