So a few weeks back I was with this guy I met at the gas station. I was buying my phone card to pay for my cell phone and I was short and he paid for it because I’m short, but I was short to pay for my card. He was so nice and he spotted me the two bucks I was missing to buy it.

He was old and not too gross or anything. He’s like 40 something (he said he was 35 but I later found out that isn’t true) and he said he was a record producer. I sing so it worked out good but I should have figured it out when I got in his 1996 Mazda 626 that something was wrong. Record producers drive Escalades, right? They so do, not old busted Japacrap, am I right?

Anyways I let him snack on my biscuit and I totaled mowed on him too but he never gave me his phone number or anything and he tried to disappear. Nice try Kevin “Moe Townsend” Waterston from Seal Beach, I know who you really are you bastard. You don’t let me into your life because I know you’re married, so you want to dance with this devil, let’s play baby, I got anger on tap for you byotch!

Since my new guy friend fingerd out where he lives I went to his house and banged on his windows, but then somebody turned lights on and I went next door and hid. The damn 5-0 came out in like a minute so I had to hide in the neighbors bushes in the backyard for like three hours until I thought they were gone. Made out like nothing, so F U Kevin, I’m watching you and your damn wife and kids. I swear to God you’re going down, so let us hope nothing bad happens to your car or house or anything, you know?