just wasn't cut out to be a bully.
But sometimes, for what ever reason, the heavens open and Jesus reaches his big gay hand down out of the sky and flicks you in the back of the head and points at you, and then points at some Booger Eater and then makes a motion that clearly says:
"Hey you, buddy, this is your job. Beat the crap out of this dork."
And no matter how much it goes against your beliefs, no matter how much you resist and try to be the good guy, you know it's true. After all, it's the stinky finger of Jesus Christ flicking the back of your head, and you don't want him sticking that boney bloody thing in your mouth or anything.
When I was 13, there was this 10 year old Booger Eater around the corner from my house who looked exactly like a skinned goat. He had some gross skin situation that made him look like a burn victim even though he wasn't. It wasn't so obvious that just anyone would notice it. Nah, it was something that only really observant people like myself could see. In fact it might be all in my head. Point is, he was ugly. Reeeeally reeeeally ugly and he always looked moist. I hate that word -- MOIST -- even thinking that word made me hate him. Fucking Moist Booger Eater.
But I could live with his ugliness, and I could live with constant damp moldiness -- but what I couldn't live with was his booger eating.
Yeah, I wasn't just calling him a Booger Eater because it's a clever way to say "nerd". Nope, this jerk, even though he was 10 years old -- ALWAYS ate his boogers, in full view, with no shame, in fact, with a lot of pride. AAAAAAAAhhhhhhrrrrgh, it still makes me angry to even think about it.
What made it worse is that I have always had this terrible problem that if I know that I have the opportunity to gross myself out and make myself want to puke, I'll probably take it. I don't want to, I can't help it. It's just the way it is.
So I would stare at this little Goat Carcass Asshole just waiting for him to do it, just waiting for him to dig in there.
My stomach would start churning as soon as I saw his stupid shiny nose twitching, he'd get his pointy little picker, insert it just so, out it would come with a gob of goo and into his disguting mouth it would go. He'd swish it around a little. Sometimes it was apparent that the sticky globs would get smeared on his tooth cause he'd rub his pukey little tongue all over it grinning with satisfaction, especially when people were looking at him. Booger eating was making him famous and he liked it. I'd sit there filling with rage and the feeling that I was going to vomit and then I'd wait for him to do it again, and he would. He was quite the showman.
I was only ever good at one video game in my life. It was called Tempest and I ruled at it. One day I was down at the arcade, minding my own business kicking ass on Tempest and suddenly, in walks Snot Skinned Booger Goat.
"Durnit, now how in thee hell am I supposed to concentrate now?"
I tried to keep my eyes on the game but I just knew he would pick a booger and eat it and that was just something I was completely unable to block out. My score plummeted. I was wasting precious quarters. Even though he wasn't picking, I was still unable to concentrate and rule as usual. I was just waiting for the gruesome show to begin. A half an hour of wasted quarters and booger munching anticipation passed. Suddenly, mid game, that little Sludgefuck Snot Sausage was standing right next to my Tempest game.
and Twitch his nose did twitch.
and Pick his finger did pick.
and Gobble his mouth did gobble.
RIGHT IN THE CORNER OF MY EYE!!
Ok that's it, I had enough, although I had never before spoken to him. I said:
"That's disgusting. Knock it off. You're making me sick. What is wrong with you?"
Fine. I wasn't so good sounding tough, my words were rather tepid by bully standards.
He didn't say anything. He just grinned. He seriously liked the attention.
"Seriously mann, it's totally gross. Don't you know that it makes everyone want to barf? You are disgusting. Stop eating your boogers mann."
Now kicking this Creepy Mucous Muncher's ass right then was the furthest thing from my mind. I didn't like even being within booger wiping distance of that little Pile Of Worms. Are you kidding me? I was trying to stay way way the fuck back from this Bag Of Cold Snot. I probably shouldn't have worried about it so much. It's highly unlikely that he would have wasted a perfectly yummy booger by wiping it on me -- but still, what if he licked me? I'd have to douse myself in battery acid and light myself on fire. Crud, maybe that's what happened to him. What if he bit me with his booger teeth and *I
* turned into a Booger Eater? I'd have to kill myself.
But then, holy shit, did this really happen? I still to this day have a hard time believing that this little Booger Gobbling Runt did this next thing that I'm about to tell you. Even to me it seems like a lie, surely nobody would perform such a disgusting and vomitous act of defiance.
That little Skinned Goat Asshole, upon hearing my explicit orders, looked straight at me, grinned, raised two of his best pickers into position, inserted them into his nose like a pair of high precision forceps and with one fluid motion extracted from his disgusting nozzle a good pea sized booger with a snot tail measuring at least 3 wiggling inches. He lifted it above his head and then as if he were a baby bird slurping a vomited worm from his mothers mouth --- slurrped -- and I mean SLURRPED it up. SLUUUURRRRRPPED I tell you, with all the sound effects that created that word.
AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHGH, I feel like vomiting right now! Someone remove this image from my BRAIN!
My rage was seething. I felt light headed, I think there was a bright flash, I was blinded or blacked out for a quick second. This wasn't just Jesus' finger flicking me on the back of my head, this was Jesus' whole foot slamming me in the rectum. This was the entire War In Heaven concentrated into one SLUUUUURP. Skinned Goat Booger never looked more like Satan than he did right then. I swear I could see horns growing from his bubbly slimy Satanic skull.
As if guided by every fucking single law of natural selection, I lunged forward to naturally select this vile little Booger Eating Goat Carcass and strangle every last snot slurping booger flavored breath out of his Satanic little body.
But alas, he was Satan. He was fast.
He bolted toward the door. I gave chase. This little slug could move and his slime trail was oh so slippery. But I was determined. My anger was just.
He mounted his Satanic chariot (a.k.a. Schwinn bicycle) and I climbed aboard my white horse of justice (a.k.a. Schwinn bicycle) and the chase took off through the lower middle class streets of West Jordan Utah.
Satan is a tricky fella, he had moves, and boy could he ever pedal, jumping curbs, sliding in between cars and garbage cans. But I was no slouch, the hand of God was guiding me. I felt as if I knew all of his moves, as if this chase was the destiny and result of thousands of years of prophecy. Most of the time he was nearly in my grasp. But then wooosh, a slippery snot lubed trick and he would gain a little distance. The chase went on for ten miniutes covering at least five thousand miles of a brand new suburbia. Guns were fired. Cars were crashed. children were killed at intersections, Helicopters exploded in the sky. It seemed nothing could impede our chase.
Then, like it had been scripted by the worst (or best) hollywood screen writer: That little Greasy Vessel of Evil Mucous turned down a dead end street.
Booger Satan was fucked.
Neither one of us had dirt bikes and at the end of the dead end was a recently excavated lot upon which a Mormon church would soon be built. There were piles of wood, wire, buckets, building equipment, scrap heaps everywhere, holes had been dug, this was an obstacle course like no other. There was no way he could beat me on God's own dirt lot.
He laid down his bike and took off running. I dumped mine and followed. We were kicking up a fantastic dust storm, jumping over piles, weaving in between stacks of wood. More explosions exploded. More lasers were fired. Old people had heart attacks. Grown men pooped their pants. But Skinned Booger Devil was getting tired. Dirt was clogging his slime and turning him into snot mud. That fucker was mine.
I reached out my arm and was just about ready to grab that Satanic Boney Goopstack and banish his soul forever to Hell when:
I was halted dead in my tracks.
I couldn't move. My foot was stuck to the ground. Literally. You thought all this religious stuff was just fancy metaphor didn't you. Well fuck you. Metaphor my ass. I really was Jesus Christ and the proof was sticking out of the top of my foot. A giant rusty nail, bent just perfectly, had entered the bottom of my foot and was now mocking my fight pointing directly at my face from the exact middle of the top of my shoe, effectively nailing me to a long 2 by 4 which, I swear to you, was the bottom end of a crude cross laid out in a scrap wood pile.
Booger Satan escaped.
I was crucified.
The pain of being nailed to this cross was enormous. My foot felt as if it had been zapped with a million bolts of lightning. But that was nothing compared to the pain of the UNcrucifixtion that I was then required to endure.
I pulled my foot slowly up towards me, a slight twist was required to follow the curve of the nail. I watched as the rusty nail disappeared back into the hole in my foot. It was replaced by a growing circle of my blood. Like Jesus, I did not cry. The pain was too big to cry. I was beyond tears, it was nearly transcendant. I now understood why Jesus took his opportunity, hanging there on the cross to forgive his captors. He was delirious, stupid, out of his gourd. It's that simple. But fuck that, unlike Jesus, I didn't forgive little Hanky Licker. Fuck that dick.
I pedaled my bike home with one foot. Push down, pull up, push down, pull up. I got home, showed my mom, and we went for my first Tetanus shot. Great. I get stabbed with a nail doing the Lord's work and my reward was to be stabbed with a needle. Thanks a lot Jesus. Asshole.
So what's the moral of the story? What did I learn? Fuck if I know. I know one thing for sure, if Jesus tries to flick me on the back of my head trying to get me to do his dirty work for him again he can go fuck himself. I don't know if there is some big religious lesson or moral to be learned from this story. If there is, you'll have to make it up on your own. I'm an atheist. But even though I don't believe in Satan, I still think booger eating is Satanic. Hopefully, that kid is dead.
Now, here's a picture I took of an extremely unattractive girl. Somebody cover those ugly legs. Sheesh.
That's all for now!
Don't get caught getting caught up in any religious booger crusades!
your righteous servant,