Mittens T. Cat
League Member
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2006
- Messages
- 109
- Points
- 0
"One time," Mittens said to the referee, still wearing his costume on the scale. "I totally banged this chick right? I mean, she wasn't that hot I guess, but at least I was gettin some. Anyway, I took her to the woods in my jeep, and dude... her vagina was so dried out that it almost felt like an asshole."
The referee replied, "Are you sure it wasn't an asshole?"
"...Unlike your stupid, old ass, I can see a clear difference in a vagina and an asshole."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Anyway, I noticed that she was kind of old. So after I was done banging her dried out vagina, I asked her what her name was. She was like, 'call me Miss Randalls.' Why Miss Randalls, I thought?
"So I ask, 'what, you got a kid or somethin?'"
The referee finished weighing him, 200 lbs.
"She's like, 'Yeah, he's a wrestler.'"
"Huh."
"Crazy right? Turns out I ****ed some hoe named Miss Randalls with a dried out vagina with a son who wrestles. Weird, I know."
He stepped up the podium to the left of the camera. The San Diego Chicken was standing at the podium to the right.
"Hey Mittens."
"Heeeey buddy. Oh, and by buddy, I mean fag! ZING!"
"That was hardly a zing."
"Well you tell me, asshole, what defines a zing."
"Well a zing has to piss the zinged-one off, for one thing." Mittens scoffed at that idea.
"That's bull****. If that's the case I've never been zinged in my life."
The San Diego Chicken would smile coyly, if possible. But it wasn't, so **** you. "That's not the only thing that's never happened to you in your life. Getting laid by a hot chick, for example, is also something you've yet to experience."
"...Kill yourself."
"Zing."
"That wasn't a zing."
"Yeah right."
A man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) stepped between them, at the center podium.
"Yo yo yo, my name is Don King. I'm black, my teetas be stacked, I be on the attack, and I'm Black."
Mittens looked at him, "You just said you're black twice."
"No duh, DICK TRACY!" the man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) replied.
"Zing." The San Diego Chicken replied.
"Bull****."
"Zing." man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) agreed.
"**** you both."
The crowd was ready to begin questioning, and the man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) abliged.
"You, the hot woman up front."
A fairly attractive woman in her 30s stood up.
"Mittens."
"Hey baby."
"uhhh... hey. I was wondering how you got Alex Trebek to wrestle in gravy with you? Also, who was his trainer, did this cause contrac--"
"Woah woah wooooooooah, baaaaaby. Slow down. Chillax. Take a chill pill. Calm down. Breeeathe. Have a cup of coffee, close your--"
"Would you PLEASE just answer the question?"
"Zing," San Diego Chicken said.
"You know you're getting a little too liberal with that word now." Mittens said, before beginning. "Ahem. Alex Trebek is a canadian, plain and simple. No if's, and's or but's, there is no denying that. Now, from what I know about Canadians (a certain Ms. Campbell comes to mind), they all like gravy. All over them. Gravy, gravy, gravy. So I was sitting around my house, watching Jeopardy, answering all the questions because I know everything, sippin' on some goose, smokin' a bowl, when I thought, 'Mittens, isn't it possible that you don't like actually like Jeopardy, and the only reason you're watching this is because you're higher than you've been in four days?'"
"...and?"
"And yes, I was right. I hate Trebek. If some freak accident occured where some big, black guy's boner accidentally fell into his ass, I'd be so happy I'd squeal."
"Mainly," The San Diego Chicken said, "Because he's a faggot."
"Well that just hurt my feelings."
"Zing."
"You're a zing."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"You don't even make sense. I'm out of here." Mittens ran away so fast that not even Jesus Christ could catch him, even if he were wearing Nike's.
The man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) yelled, "CASE CLOSED!"
"New catchphrase?" San Diego Chicken asked.
The man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) replied, "Sure, why not?"
He looked at the crowd, "CASE CLOOOOOOOSED>"
The referee replied, "Are you sure it wasn't an asshole?"
"...Unlike your stupid, old ass, I can see a clear difference in a vagina and an asshole."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Anyway, I noticed that she was kind of old. So after I was done banging her dried out vagina, I asked her what her name was. She was like, 'call me Miss Randalls.' Why Miss Randalls, I thought?
"So I ask, 'what, you got a kid or somethin?'"
The referee finished weighing him, 200 lbs.
"She's like, 'Yeah, he's a wrestler.'"
"Huh."
"Crazy right? Turns out I ****ed some hoe named Miss Randalls with a dried out vagina with a son who wrestles. Weird, I know."
He stepped up the podium to the left of the camera. The San Diego Chicken was standing at the podium to the right.
"Hey Mittens."
"Heeeey buddy. Oh, and by buddy, I mean fag! ZING!"
"That was hardly a zing."
"Well you tell me, asshole, what defines a zing."
"Well a zing has to piss the zinged-one off, for one thing." Mittens scoffed at that idea.
"That's bull****. If that's the case I've never been zinged in my life."
The San Diego Chicken would smile coyly, if possible. But it wasn't, so **** you. "That's not the only thing that's never happened to you in your life. Getting laid by a hot chick, for example, is also something you've yet to experience."
"...Kill yourself."
"Zing."
"That wasn't a zing."
"Yeah right."
A man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) stepped between them, at the center podium.
"Yo yo yo, my name is Don King. I'm black, my teetas be stacked, I be on the attack, and I'm Black."
Mittens looked at him, "You just said you're black twice."
"No duh, DICK TRACY!" the man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) replied.
"Zing." The San Diego Chicken replied.
"Bull****."
"Zing." man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) agreed.
"**** you both."
The crowd was ready to begin questioning, and the man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) abliged.
"You, the hot woman up front."
A fairly attractive woman in her 30s stood up.
"Mittens."
"Hey baby."
"uhhh... hey. I was wondering how you got Alex Trebek to wrestle in gravy with you? Also, who was his trainer, did this cause contrac--"
"Woah woah wooooooooah, baaaaaby. Slow down. Chillax. Take a chill pill. Calm down. Breeeathe. Have a cup of coffee, close your--"
"Would you PLEASE just answer the question?"
"Zing," San Diego Chicken said.
"You know you're getting a little too liberal with that word now." Mittens said, before beginning. "Ahem. Alex Trebek is a canadian, plain and simple. No if's, and's or but's, there is no denying that. Now, from what I know about Canadians (a certain Ms. Campbell comes to mind), they all like gravy. All over them. Gravy, gravy, gravy. So I was sitting around my house, watching Jeopardy, answering all the questions because I know everything, sippin' on some goose, smokin' a bowl, when I thought, 'Mittens, isn't it possible that you don't like actually like Jeopardy, and the only reason you're watching this is because you're higher than you've been in four days?'"
"...and?"
"And yes, I was right. I hate Trebek. If some freak accident occured where some big, black guy's boner accidentally fell into his ass, I'd be so happy I'd squeal."
"Mainly," The San Diego Chicken said, "Because he's a faggot."
"Well that just hurt my feelings."
"Zing."
"You're a zing."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"You don't even make sense. I'm out of here." Mittens ran away so fast that not even Jesus Christ could catch him, even if he were wearing Nike's.
The man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) yelled, "CASE CLOSED!"
"New catchphrase?" San Diego Chicken asked.
The man who looked like Don King (but clearly wasn't Don King) replied, "Sure, why not?"
He looked at the crowd, "CASE CLOOOOOOOSED>"