Poor little Scummy, he got nothing but a raw deal from the moment that he came out of the gate. His family tree was an assortment of losers, geeks and deviant miscreants!!!
Scummy is a genetic-jinx. The sidewalks, they were smeared with frozen logies, like so many vulgar crystalised oysters on the day that little Scummy was hatched.
The sun didn't even attempt to pierce the immense cloud cover. It had not done so for weeks! The steady drizzle had given everything the patina of decay. Moss was hanging from the street lamps, giving them the appearence of sinister muppets. Rivers of goo ran sluggishly through the gutters. Sliding Down the streets like a hocker from a sinus. This was the world that greeted little Scummy as he slid down the uterine canal into the lighty-light.
Hey candyass! Listen up! Because your pants aren't getting any bigger! And they christened him little Scummy. And from the instant he plopped into his vale of tears, his momy could sense that it was to be something far worse for him. from the moment the toddler was toddling, his was a psyche with a sharky precipice, Scummy's existence was to be a trauma-rama beyond the usal. why at the kids-kennel day care franchise were mumsie dropped him off he was despised, taunted, hunted, and tortured by all of his little toddle-mates who should have been his little -pals.
Even the nursies held him in contempt. By the time little Scummy was in the kindergarten he was being force-fed the sand box. He kept all of torment to himself. By the third grade he was jack-ass drunk. The poor little weasel had to hit mumsie's liquor cabinet in order to make it trough recess. By junior high school he was a total outcast, living in a loser's rock and roll fantasy.
Poor little Scummy should have stayed in high school, but he just couldn't stand up to the abuse. He was conntinuosly derided with a variety of taunts and insults. The little children would follow him home and encircle him chanting "Dyke! Old maid! Dyke!" Scummy would nun home in tears. Now he is tirty, but he feels like fifteen. Now he works as a data-entry geek for a variety of temporary agencies. He sits on his jive-ass-jack-ass rump in front of a computer, typing all day long as he styffs his blemished mug with dunkin donuts. Day in, day out, day in, day out!
Poor widdle Scummy is so bored that he fell in love with a whore. He's such a chump that he tried to change her. She told him that she loved him too, and then she fleeced him out of all of his loot! Scummy was a basket case!!! So Scummy hit the street with his thrty-eight and went gunning for her pimp. But little-widdle Scummy was terribly near-sighted. He animed, fired, and missed. Little Scummy bled to death in the gutter while the moon was reflected in his blue blue eyes.
Scummy is a genetic-jinx. The sidewalks, they were smeared with frozen logies, like so many vulgar crystalised oysters on the day that little Scummy was hatched.
The sun didn't even attempt to pierce the immense cloud cover. It had not done so for weeks! The steady drizzle had given everything the patina of decay. Moss was hanging from the street lamps, giving them the appearence of sinister muppets. Rivers of goo ran sluggishly through the gutters. Sliding Down the streets like a hocker from a sinus. This was the world that greeted little Scummy as he slid down the uterine canal into the lighty-light.
Hey candyass! Listen up! Because your pants aren't getting any bigger! And they christened him little Scummy. And from the instant he plopped into his vale of tears, his momy could sense that it was to be something far worse for him. from the moment the toddler was toddling, his was a psyche with a sharky precipice, Scummy's existence was to be a trauma-rama beyond the usal. why at the kids-kennel day care franchise were mumsie dropped him off he was despised, taunted, hunted, and tortured by all of his little toddle-mates who should have been his little -pals.
Even the nursies held him in contempt. By the time little Scummy was in the kindergarten he was being force-fed the sand box. He kept all of torment to himself. By the third grade he was jack-ass drunk. The poor little weasel had to hit mumsie's liquor cabinet in order to make it trough recess. By junior high school he was a total outcast, living in a loser's rock and roll fantasy.
Poor little Scummy should have stayed in high school, but he just couldn't stand up to the abuse. He was conntinuosly derided with a variety of taunts and insults. The little children would follow him home and encircle him chanting "Dyke! Old maid! Dyke!" Scummy would nun home in tears. Now he is tirty, but he feels like fifteen. Now he works as a data-entry geek for a variety of temporary agencies. He sits on his jive-ass-jack-ass rump in front of a computer, typing all day long as he styffs his blemished mug with dunkin donuts. Day in, day out, day in, day out!
Poor widdle Scummy is so bored that he fell in love with a whore. He's such a chump that he tried to change her. She told him that she loved him too, and then she fleeced him out of all of his loot! Scummy was a basket case!!! So Scummy hit the street with his thrty-eight and went gunning for her pimp. But little-widdle Scummy was terribly near-sighted. He animed, fired, and missed. Little Scummy bled to death in the gutter while the moon was reflected in his blue blue eyes.
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