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[–] • 2 pts

Larry King was pissed off. Who could blame him? He'd spent $300 on this rich society bitch, taking her to a fine restaurant and a show, and she still refused to open her legs for him. It was natural for him to get angry and club her to death with his Emmy Award, wasn't it? Well, wasn't it?. Who did she think she was? You know what they say, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas," and since this bitch was now buried in a shallow grave by the side of the road, she was definitely staying in Vegas. All he had to do was get the blood out of his Emmy, and everything would be fine, just like the last time.

[–] • 0 pt

now i wonder how many dead bodies are just dropped off ten or more feet off to the side of those desert roads and never get discovered.

[–] • 1 pt

Damn, blast from the past. I miss those gas prices…

[–] • 2 pts

I've never known gas prices to be cheaper than milk... This image must've been taken before that whole dancing isreali's thing happened.

[–] [deleted] • 1 pt

damn you made me reopen it to see the prices.

[–] [deleted] • 1 pt

So why didn't he get a full tank or do a refill in the white neighborhood before going into the unknown area is my question.

[–] • 0 pt (edited )

"Who the fuck is that," he thought to himself, catching a glimpse of someone that looked familiar. "Is that that fucking guy, Tony, who used to hang out with Trish and them? Man, fuck that guy. If I was rolling with my boys right now I would fuck him up." He lit a cigarette with one hand, gas pump in the other, and took a sweet, long drag as he shoved that reeking gas cock into his car's eager slot. "I wonder if the bathroom here has those glow-in-the-dark condoms," he whispered to himself, idly running his hand over his wallet to feel the bulge of twenty condom rings pressing through his velvet leisure suit pants. Gassed up, he hopped into his sweet ride and accelerated away, only to hard brake, roll down his window and scream, "Fuck you, Tony!" to the guy who was not Tony, before peeling off.

[–] • 0 pt

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