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Christmas thankfully was in the rearview mirror next to the hanging balls I had in the Red Dragon. My main aim moving forward into 2013 was REVENGE! And unlike Stewie on my favourite show Family Guy, I would get it. I would organise things at my job, home, and of course, my beloved SYD. It did strike me as ironic that I was a cock site king when my knob was barely 3 inches. If the Aussies knew I sit to take a pee it would be relentless terror for my kingdom.
It was New Years Day at the Waffle House and it was a bad scene. Some real street toughs from the port came in. They had been drinking all night and demanded my best work to sort their hangovers. What happened next has given me PTSD, even to this day. One of the drunks went looking for the loo and stumbled into the kitchen. He looked at me a laughed because he recogised me from the naked bike run. He was the one who yelled during the ride at me saying "it's like a cock, but smaller" as I rode by. His laughter was so loud and it made me crazy with rage. He even took "Rosie" my trusty spatula and shoved her down his pants to scratch his balls and arse. He ran out into the restaurant with Rosie's handle sticking out of his pants yelling about cooking up some fresh ass cheek pancakes! What the fuckity what?!!!! Police service showed up and restored order. Rosie was recovered but the manager forced her into retirement. She was as useless as a sagging sofa in a crack den. I was a total train wreck and Rosie was covered with longshoreman ass juice. 2013 as far as work goes, was fucked off. How would I continue to provide world-class waffles without Rosie? With 16 hours left in my shift all I could do was put Rosie in the Red Dragon where she would be safe.
We were running very low on waffle batter because I had fucked up the ordering of supplies. My mind was just elsewhere these days. The timing could not have been worse and after the day I was having: the vice-president of Waffle House arrived for a surprise inspection. The restaurant was trashed, the port workers had left a horrific review on Yelp, and I was using an unauthorised spatula. Under normal circumstances I would have been okay. The Vice-President sat me down in the back room with my employee file. It was the size of a telephone directory. My small balls shriveled up and attempted to retreat back into my man cunt for protection.
We reviewed my file and saw infractions ranging from tardiness, drinking on the job, and pouring waffle batter on my knob. It was just too much. I was sacked on the spot. News of my demise spread quickly. Most of the staff had waited for this to happen for years. When I finally opened the doors for the last time to leave my beloved culinary kingdom, the busboys had all relieved themselves on the Red Dragon. First Rosie and now the dragon. It was if my life was cursed. Even that family on "Good Times" had better luck than me. It was a lonely and long ride back home.
This was supposed to have been the night where I came home to give Orgasm Mary a little love. I mean that literally. She was a gray cat for sure, but still needed tending once in awhile. It was also important to keep her happy as she paid for the house and now without my Waffle House money, I was fucked! The evening was planned, I slopped a ton of Astro-Glide into Mary's old split ham cunt. All her cunny hairs had fallen out decades ago so to relive my 70's fetish, I put some Vaseline on the outside of her snatch and threw some hairs on it. Look, it was my personal Jackson Pollock work of cunt art. A real abstract expressionism it wasn't but I tried.
This was her special night and given her age, might be her last shag. Not to be callous but the old battle axe was getting up there in years. Even had the best Beringer box wine and some fancy Walmart candles to get things started. I wheeled the old hag into the bedroom and hoisted her into the bed. It reminded me of watching "The Deadliest Catch" when they loaded a pot onto the ship with their crane. Then again, deadliest catch was pertinent and accurate here. Shit. I had almost forgotten to double up on the Viagra and Xanax to get me through this hell. Now, it was time to take care of business.
I entered the room wearing my red devil costume. It was a favourite from the naked bike days and Orgasm Mary loved role playing. Mary liked it rough and from behind. This worked well because when I was slamming her ham, I liked to tape a picture of Richard Simons to the headboard to get me off. He was my childhood hero and so handsome! Just dreamy.
I was doing my best to give it to Mary and had her face down on her tummy. It was hard to give her more than just my cockhead in this position. Mary someone wiggled free from this positon and saw Richard on her headboard. She went CRAZY! Like full retard strength and threw me off the bed! I ran for my life and felt this searing pain on my back. The sound reminded me of burning eggs at the Waffle House. Mary had thrown a lit candle at me and it stuck to my back like Captain Ahab trying to harpoon the white whale. Melville should have put me in a chapter! What a disaster! Knowing Mary was stuck on the bed and could not get off it, I retreated to my SYD Command Center to sort things out with the Skype Gang.
As I organised my notes and booted up my computer, my heart started racing. What hell was I going to walk into tonight? Surely my luck had to change! It was the perfect time. Everyone should be online. The whole lot of that rotten Skype Gang in my gun sights. I was especially ready to smash Deno, Glasgow_boy, MySize, and Arir39. All site mother fuckers and probably the sneakiest and most deviant minds on the Internet. Windows 95 finally booted up and I was ready to go!
When I went to log in, the unthinkable happened: I could not log in. At first I thought with my hands shaking like a crack addict I had put in the wrong password. After all, with nearly 500 fakes it was hard to keep track of things. That was not the case. I had in fact been deleted. Had the Skype Gang infiltrated the site? Had nosey Bella! finally done me in? What the fuck was going on? JohnS? Well, probably not him he was a fucking piece of Outback trash. Desperation and panic set in.
It was over. It was over for real. I had fallen and fallen hard from grace.
What came to mind immediately was the Battle of Bosworth Field in Leicestershire in 1485. King Richard III taking a sword into his buttocks slicing everything important to man....
Would I ever recover from this deletion?