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Bobbie's Bullshit Guide For Survival
If you are reading this, i believe it is safe to assume you are stupidly emotional, and cant handle a punch to the gut, I dont feel bad for you, im not a self help writer, i am writing this for myself, albeit this wont do any good for either of us, i am a bit of a pissant child sometimes, and I dont have any friends to complain to, so I will make do with you and your blue hair,
Life is a gigantic Lady with shameless blowjob eyes trying to solicit all of us with her gigantic fake tits and sultry lies, when you believe you are fine, life gives you all of her filthy diseases.
I am not the base of your cruel joke or made up story, no matter how much you want me to be, bitch, I will fuck you right back with a tree through your cars windshield on your way to waffle house, you will die with your cunt whims leaking out the neurons of your brain matter in a sweaty car seat with nary a single waffle,
RULE#1; DO NOT THINK WITH YOUR GENITALS
Ever since I was ten years old, I knew god was out to poke his gigantic mechanical hands into my life and pry the delight department right out of me, killing my enjoyment for lifes seductive eyes and massive ass, subsequently killing my will to live aswell, so, that meant i didnt have time to sit with my dick in my hands with my own disgusting saliva dripping down my chin, life is shitty, and so is the solicitor up in heaven,
I knew for a fact; that god was a cocksucking faggot ready to take on the quest of fucking all of us out of our own humanity, soon the streets would be flooded with water and a big boat would sail through the streets of Brooklyn with two of each animal, killing all of us except for the stinky fucker god bestowed greatness upon, I am just of the very lucky few to be aware of this.
You are twelve when you realise you dont need anyone to depend on, you much less need the smelly whoremongers who depend on you to help them as if its your job to defend them in their glass boxes as they tug on their own genitalia
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You are twelve, in middle school, when you realise you shouldnt trust anyone, espescially not the guy with his tiny phallus in his hand,
You have a friend, a bad friend, a bored friend, shes a dumb, fucktard blonde who doesnt see the difference between marlboros and newports. (There is a big one, everyones just too busy organizing their lego collections to realise it.)
Heather, the curly hair perm bitch, who does everything she wants to do, shes a rogue little psychopath and you've been friends with her too long, which means no one else is willing to take on the responibility of keeping her in check, which means its your problem, normally, you'd tell her and everyone else to suck a dick and then kick dirt on them as you ride away on your jacked up bike, unfortunately, Heather is actually a little crazy,
Shes set on using a homosexual looking little twink for his families money and fame, shes childish, and feels the need to depend on someone else for money,
your stood a yard away from a business that looks like someones badly drawn garage with Heather, and Stuart King, the fairy.
You've got a few demands.
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"Alright four eyes, if you wanna hang around guys like us, youre going to need to prove you can be as tough as us," you stare him up and down, the pathetic little cunt looks intimdated, good! he should be, your tough and you hang around way older and tougher people,
Heather immediatly steps back up to you, "Oh my god, Bobbie this isnt a fucking wolfpack!" You ignore her, because thats how cool you are, you ignore women in the 1950s, the sheet of paper looking motherfuck infront of you wearing a blue sweater vest looked like he was going to tweak, just on the verge of growing buck teeth and three prickly freckles on each cheek,
"I dont hang around no wimps," you step towards the little blonde baby bitch again, "so if youre tough, you'll prove it, right?" Stuart seems to shake like a leaf in the rain, and then stiffens up again, putting on a hideous brave face, its a shame he looked better with his left eye unfocused and falling off to the side like a cavemen with unnoticeable thorns in its yucky backside, "uhh, uhm, Right!"
"Right." You clamp your hand over his small, boney shoulder, "You see that bike shop; over there?" You steer him in the direction of the garage door with garish spray paint.
"um yeah - I; see it."
"I want you to steal one," You deadpan, Stuart whips his head towards you with his face dropping like a pussy,
Heather immediatly speaks up, desperately wanting that little boys cash, "Seriously? Do you want us to get arrested?"
You turn back to the two bit psychotic whore, "Hes a smart guy," he wears glasses, that means hes smart, "im sure he'll figure it out," you turn back to Stuart with malice,
"Oh - yeah! I can do it-"
"Great, Heather and I will be waiting right here."
Heather stares at you as Stuart scurries off, "God dammit Bobbie, youre an asshole!"
You frown, kissing your teeth, "atleast im keeping it real, im not an asshole im just not a loser"
"Why cant you just have let me seduce him into loving me? Youre not a fucking alpha!"
"This isnt seduction its prostitution, your offering yourself to some four eyed faggot inexchange for money, I will not be subject to this blatant mockery of my mothers profession" Heather looks like shes about to kick you into next sunday, as if she could, your biceps are bigger then her waist!
"God, Bobbie, Twelve year olds cant be prostitutes, and for the record, your mother isnt a prostitute, she gets crack, not money!"
You feel youre about to strangle her, you dont care if shes a lady, shes still tugging her own labia waiting to depend on someone else to give her money and protect her, shes just like the stupid rat eating leprechaun except she wears her fathers hair gel as mascara
She looks toward the bike shop, "Bobbie hes taking too long, you fucking scared him off!" She steps up towards you, puffing up her flat chest like a turkey teying to intimidate the other turkey, or was that chickens and roosters? "Whatever, I knew that loser couldnt handle it -"
"I got the bike!" Came Stuarts nasally nerd ass voice, and sure enough, he had gotten a bike, albeit a shitty, dirty, jacked up one, "what."
Heather hopped up to Stuart immediatly, "Ohmygod, wow- you actually did it! Looks like your a theif after all," she bats her lashes at him, "I love thieves", and suddenly Stuarts also looks like hes standing there with his phallus in his hands,
"no fucking way, this is bullshit. wheres the receipt, you mustve bought it!" You give the bike a once over, looking over it as if its an ancient relic, looking back you probably shouldnt have assumed a bike muddled with dirt was safe to actually buy,
Heather turned to look at Bobbie, with her mouth open ready to say something - "just face it Bobbie," Stuart chimes in, "im sneakier then I look!" he looks way too proud of himself.
"Whatever," you sigh, upsettingly, you've admitted defeat to gods favorite cocksucker,
"Looks like you were successfully able to commit a crime, not bad.." you wheel the bike more towards yourself, you take a stronger hold of the handle, "Now lets see how fast this thing can go," You look away from Stuart, and he immediatly jumps up, - "wait, your going to - ride the bike?" You tinker with the handles, trying out the cold biting metal on your hands in the warm sun, "what, you think I made you steal it just for show?" Stuart looks a little lost, "uhhm, yeah, kind of - well that bike looks a little cheap anyway - I could just buy a better one so then -" he steps forward trying to take hold of the handle bars, you push him away by his chest,
"nah, thats lame, ive got my own bike now." You blink up at the sun, then back at your sardine friend and her way too washed prey, "who wants to go for a ride?"
Heather brushes a curl back behind her ear "not me, I just got my hair done." You look over Stuart, "whatever, how 'bout you, four eyes?" (Looking back, this was also pretty fucking homosexual, what, were you gonna let Stuart hold onto your back like a lady?)
"NO - I mean, no! Im good!"
"You guys are buzzkills,"
You pull the right handle, nothing happens "ugh- no gas," Stuart makes a noise akin to "phew"
"Oh wait, there is gas, I just pulled the wrong handle." You pull the other handle, and the motor revs to life. You get on, and immediaty dash off, the speed quicker then any other bike youve rode, in the distance you couldve heard Stuart yell after "bobbie wait-" like a sad wimp,
You grip the bars tighter, air whipping past ypu faster then ever, the shock of adrenaline pushing into you as you flies and bees and other sorts of yucky little insects just absolutely dissapear behind you, its fun, and you slam on the brakes for an abrupt stop, for some reason, the stupid motor wont shut off, and the tires wont stop spinning, you distantly ask yourself the important question, why the fuck wont this stop, you crash over a kids smaller bycicle and youre sent flying, into a fucking bush.
A harsh ring in your ear is there, mouth dry with the debris of sand and dirt in your mouth, a sting over your eye and head, in a slow motioned moment, you lift your head up, you can feel blood trickling down your face, gathering by your top lip and eventually furiously overflowing, catch blood in your mouth, its coppery taste disguting familiar. You can hear the fae running up behind you, yelling about some "im sorry! please dont be dead its my fault!" the only thing you register is that its Staurts fault. You stand up, groan, and your dizzy, vision blurry, and struck with floating colours, you blot your sleeve to the blood on the side of your head, the leather doing nothing to wipe it up. You sneer to hide your dissapointment that a little baby bitch couldnt actually do something tough.
"Im alive and going to kick your ass," you stand up and spin around to stare at Stuart like a crazed psychopath with blood spilling out of your head. Stuart stops in his own tracks, "oh,"
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Obviously, you end up passing out way before getting to hospitalize Stuart aswell, but you do get to tell him to never ever fucking dare look at you ever again. He doesnt listen, because ofcourse he doesnt. He starts dating Heather.
RULE#2; DONT DEPEND ON ANYONE, AT ALL.
As ive already established, having to depend on anyone for your own sake is a horrible outcome, absolutely terrible, its a sign of weakness and that youre a prissy little pampered bitch.
You are fourteen when you begin to further take on the role as the parent to depend on. This means everyone around you are pampered little prissy bitches with no independant future whatsoever.
Your sat at the kitchen table, four bowls full of noodles are strewn across to each person your own bowl is slightly chipped. Ruben and Rolando kept lobbing eachothers noodles at eachother, you wouldve yelled at them, told them that they were just loosing noodles you spent time having to go buy and cook.
But the thrown noodles always ended up in their bowls again, what a joke. Ricardo sat right next you, eating his noodles with a spoon instead of a fork, because you didnt have enough forks, Ruben and Rolando kept using them for digging in the backyard, and never returned them to the sink to wash. You had offered the use the spoon instead, but Ricardo preferred the spoon, your siblings were so .. small, so tiny,
You wondered if your mother would let them depend on her if you werent there. You should get a car, or an actual functioning bike. Not to drive them anywhere, but, for yourself, because you are a conceded asshole, a big one, a gigantic asshole, thats why youre going to make these dumb kids repay you for those noodles, but you wouldnt need it, - you'd never have to depend on anyone else for noodles. instead, youre gonna watch the wizard of oz and then debate on wether the dog shouldve fucking died, dogs are pussies.
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You are fifteen when Stuart comes back from his trip to europe. You, and your shitty group of friends are standing by the stairwell, Kenny, the kale munching freak keeps bothering you, pestering you about letting Stuart in on your assignment, just so that you can all gets A's, you'd never have to depend on anyone for anything. you dont need that A.
You dont like Kenny all that much, hes quite a single minded homewrecker who wants to rub everyone with his STI riddled sores, you swear to the celestial dick muncher that if he isnt out of your face in thirty seconds you'll beat him to a pulp. and he thinks with his dick, ofcourse.
"Bobbie," "no." "Bobbie," "no." "Bobbie," "no." - Heather turns towards you guys, a lit ciggarette perched between her fingertips, "Oh, my god. what are you two losers whining about?" Kenny turns to her with a desperate look on his face, "We have this giant assignment in history class, and, i want Stuart to be a part of it so that we can get an A, i desperately need a good mark on this-" He turns back to you, "But Bobbies refusing!" you stare at him blankly, "come on Bobbie, stuart offered to help!, youre really willing to fail a class just for your pride?" You stare at him, none of the worthless faggots in gods playground are worth your time, theres no way in fucking hell you'd ever even want their fuckass cock soliciting help, "I'd rather fail at life than depend on that utter dweeb."
Heather lets out an exasperated sigh, "Seriously? come on, atleast pretend to like him! i dont want some conflict between you two", it doesnt matter what Heather thinks, your better off alone in any case, you might aswell not work with Kenny either, Kenny spins to Nancy, asks her what shes thinks, shes too high to give a single fuck, You dont care about her opinion anyway, Nancy could get into lesbianism and lick a hookers herpes crawled vagina for all you care. Kenny turns to Ricky, asks him the same question, not even realising Ricky looks like hes disgustingly balls deep in his own brain, thinking with all his four braincells, you genuinely believe his iq might be eighty. He looks up for a moment, doesnt answer Kenny, and instead says "oh uhm, ive - gotta go" and then wanders off.
you chuckle, as if finding something very funny, "what is he always wandering off for? he is not Dorothy gale from kansas." suddenly everyone turns to you, Heather speaks first, "What? you watch the wizard of oz?" you wish you had a gun to shoot these twats,
you traverse the school hallways before you have to get to your history class, you should never sacrifice yourself for others, you are sure of that. if you were to work with Stuart, you would be sacrificing yourself so that Kenny could get his stupid A, you'd never do that.
Stuart King, is an (aforementioed) baby bitch. and everyone knows who the father of all bitches are, the flesh peddler up in heaven. this must mean Stuart King is a christian, which means hes more a toddler baby bitch then a regular baby bitch! heaven sucks, but if you skip heaven, you go to hell, and thats not even a tad better, the antichrist is a whiny little fag hellbent on winning every poker game ever, which is just pure bullshit, anyhow. now that we've established god is a gay loser pimp and little homosexuals like Stuart and Skeeter are his little toddler bitch followers! which, is another reason you should never depend on Stuart, or anyone else like him, the only person you can depend on is your future wife to take care of your even uglier future kids! the bell rings, and you get to your history class.
when you enter the classroom, everyone is already sat in groups, discussing the project like a bunch of prickly squares, you look at Kenny and you stop dead in your tracks, Stuart was sitting by him, Kenny waved you over, and you marched right over, not because of Kenny, but because you had questions. before you could speak, Stuart spoke up,
"Bobbie! Heather told me you were fine with me joining your project, im glad to see you've come around -" Heather, that shrill mouth breathing cunt!! "Listen - you whorish brothel handler, i did NOT consent to this, i will not be subjected to your mouthy whimsy! i dont need your help, any of your help!" you march right to the teacher, who was drinking alcohol out of a brown paper bag.
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The teacher ended up not letting you work alone. you let Stuart work with you and Kenny. But if you get anything less then an A, your beating both their asses. the less you have to do with Stuart, the better. you did end up getting an A, even with Stuarts unnessacary whining about them bonding more, he is a foul pipsqueak, and you would never want to spend any time with him if you dont need to, he is obviously trying to make you have a heart attack, as everytime he talks in that nerdy nasal voice of his and speaks matter of factly, your chest twists.
RULE#3; DONT FALL INLOVE, ITS PATHETIC
Now, this rule might need a little bit of explaining, you see ever since i was ten, i knew love was a weakness for everyone, i only hooked up with that forty year old woman because i needed the extra credit. no love involved, easy!
My mother has five different boyfriends each week, each week theres atleast three that shes sure is the one, that shes smitten by, they always end up stealing atleast something from her, and leaving her grossly sad, i do not feel sorry for her, Ricky is obviously inlove with someone, he writes too many notes, his heads always up in space somewhere, giggling to himself, smiling for no reason, hes smitten by someone, hes gross about it, its pathetic, Stuart loves Heather, and he doesnt even know Heather is just using him for his riches, absolutely, utterly pathetic, i mean, he is a weeper boner baby led dick first into affection, which is why i dont feel sorry for him either!
"How to identify love; your heart twangs painfully, your love is always on your mind, you want to be near them, you want to give them things. (written by; Emily five years ago)"
you are sixteen when you first realise love absolutely sucks.
you hate american football, its pointless, gross, and the players look like pilgrims in their ugly spandex costumes, the only thing remotely good about it is the cheerleaders, which is why when Heather announces she, Kenny, and Stuart are going to watch the football game next week, you come with, inviting yourself on Stuarts dime,
so when next weeks comes around, you haul your ass into the back of Stuarts loathly grey car, Heather looks back at you from the passenger seat, narrowing her eyes at you, "Were not stopping at mcdonalds either, i dont care how much you kick my seat, youre not getting it."
so here you are now, with a mcdonalds happy meal in your hands as you load into the bleachers, you sit next to Kenny right above Heather and Stuart, Heathers infront of you, Stuarts infront of Kenny. to spite Heather, you never did apologize to Stuart for calling him a whorish brothel handler, Stuart is a dumb twat, and to make things worse, the metal bench under your rectum is so goddamn uncomfortabe you might aswell have just sat down in the middle of the field, being slammed into by the football players chasing the penis shaped ball.
Kenny keeps staring at your food and scrunching his nose up, good to know hes off put by the stench of the ketchup just poured in the box. youre glad to know youre both uncomfortable. the last reason you are unhappy is because, from your seat, elevated above Heather and Stuart, you can see them both holding hands, Stuart briefly hold Heathers hand up between them, telling her something you cant quite overhear, but youre sure its something along the lines of "Oh Heather, thou art in heaven as my lady of god, god dont let me make an ass of myself by letting me pretend i have a functioning nutsack" or some poetic bullshit like that, youre sure that Heather feels just as much a pissant sardine as you do crammed into the bleachers next to hundreds of other kids unworthy of your presence.
"Youre staring at them," Kenny says, unhelpful, youre now staring at him as if he insulted your whole bloodline, "who?" you were not.
"Heather and Stuart,, obviously .." he says slowly as if trying to make his child resay its first words. "No, you dumb fucking clit, i was not.",
"yeah you were.." he mumbles. "are you-" "shutup," you feel the revelation coming like a slap with a dirty dish rag damp with piss on the side of your mouth, and you dont want Kenny to be the one who delivers it. "i am obviously inlove with Heathers man and therefore seething with unbridled, loathly jealousy." you turn back to the football game and Kenny huffs an airy giggle, you bristle at this, you then pat your spoiled stomach, it has brought you the most cruel punishment of all; rejecting the meal you forced Stuart King to secure for you,
And then, as if orchestrated by the big man up in heaven himself (you are sure it is, just so that the spinner hat wearing son can get his fucking jolly christmas), Stuart reaches over and kisses Heathers cheek, you distantly wonder what Stuarts lips feel like,
Your stomach recoils and your chest twangs disgustingly painfully, this is all the evidence you need to know that you were right when you thought you were joking.
Great, now Gods fat fucking angel cupid has fucked you over aswell, Stuarts ugly eyes make you swoon exactly like the knock kneed faggot that you are, you actually dont know how youve ended up a reeking homosexual, you are going to hell and youre going to have to play monopoly with satans ugly antichrist spawn! God fucking damnit! Emily said this would happen, fuck her! that faggy little fortune teller, she shouldve never gotten into palm reading! "oh bobbie, humans arent born hateful, theyre bred into it, you might be homosexual aswell, you never know until its too late!" well guess what? you are still a fag hater! doesnt matter if you are one! take that, Jesus!
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you ended up leaving the match early, earning confused glances from Kenny, Heather and Stuart when you just got up and marched off the bleachers, leaving your pride, hatred and happy meal behind, your traitorous stomach is refusing to digest it! You are slightly lactose intolerant, so you will feed it a milkshake later as punishment.
When you got home, you realise theres no way youre a homosexual, you left your happy meal behind for nothing, you fuckhead! You love ladies, girls women and ladies! Big fake tits and seductive lies are hot as fuck! fuck Stuart and his eyes, lips and glasses!
Then the weekend passed and youre forced to see Stuarts twatlicking face again.
Hes stood tilted against a wall, with Heathers arm slung around his waist, your chest cruely revolts, you are fully aware Heather does not love Stuart, but you are aware Stuart seems to love Heather, his blonde hair is strewn across his forehead, sheepishly brushed backwards, he looks around for a moment, locking his eyes with you, and you feel like a hand has been crushed against your windpipe for an airless moment.
He pushed his greasy glasses back up his nose bridge when he looks away from you. The hatred in your head reared its pungent head.
Hes so unappealing. With small brownish moles trailing up his arms, dissapearing beneath his curled up sleeves, you want to punch him in the face for looking like that, you want to knock the wind out of him when you kick him in the chest as payback for how your chest painfully twangs, why do you want to look at him? hes plainly a mangled freak, god did not design this man in his image, which you might aswell take as a good thing, Angels are from god which means Angels will fuck you over, just like cupid did, you feel offended looking at Stuart, hes grotesquely twisting your heart in your chest,
Stuart loves Heather, and he'll keep loving Heather until she dumps him.
You can distantly hear the dumb nerd ask Heather if she wants water.
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Does it make sense? yes im sure it does. Youre welcome for writing this guide, by the way. I will try to bite the bullet and just take it as it is, I am a grim little faggot sent from the hardly favoured hellish flames, if in a few years, ive hung myself next to a black and white picture of Stuart King, it is safe to assume Stuart ended up not actually being a homosexual. I doubt i'd kill myself because of Stuart though. Im way tougher then that. And, Stuart does not deserve to be the reason i die.
I hate Stuart King.