"MAAAAAACCCCCCCKKK"
Life with Pickles is slowly killing me. Seeing him on a regular basis has begun to make me less intelligent. He smells, doesn’t shave, and constantly splurts out random sayings that make no sense. I now regret even the thought of living with the maggot. It’s scary to think of what animals will take refuge in his room. Meanwhile, Pickles had another classic weekend. He got a job at a pizza place that somehow looked past the unsanitary living habits of VD as well as the sewer smell. Wil really loved it there, he made friends with the grower who wants to live with Wil, which is perfect considering he now needs to find a new roommate. Wil no longer has that job after the infamous killa tactic of not showing up to work, and instead going to IU with me. My MVPesque drinking stamina has diminished miserably. Max 2 hours after starting the night I ventured out to my car to lay in peace for the remaining duration of the night like I was a high school sophomore. Completely embarrassing. To regain my Mariusz Pudzianowski regimen (just with drinking instead of lifting heavy shit), I’m gonna drink every single night until Kerr and the douche Kiel arrive in indy. Pickles played up to his potential this weekend; after a hard weekend at IU he came home so hungover he asked me to cuddle (again) and phoneless. Everyone loved having Wil at IU again and I loved him not being anywhere near me.
Last Saturday after work Pickles hitched a ride to our friends house, quickly making a pit stop to pick up a case of busch light and a handle of early times. The troll started out the night ripping shots of the whiskey, totally prepared to wake up in the morning and not know what was happening. Pickles got off work at 10pm and by midnight, he was outside in the snow, no jacket, no shoes, and too drunk to spark a bowl. Wil was being Wil, taking shots on command, proceeding to try to rip the shot but inadvertently throwing the entire drink all over his face and shirt, you know.. regular van dyke shit. Wil decided he was funny enough for comedy central and is planning on working on a routine to submit to them. Then, Wil went Mike Tyson. Pickles got heated after a few comments with another guy about a girl. Wil didn’t like what was said and in near tears exclaimed, “I lost my virginity to..” (like I was gonna tell you who it was on a blog.. grow the fuck up.) From then on, Wil was ready to fight anyone, there was a total of 6 people at the house and he tried to fight the four who didn’t live at the house. While Pickles was talking crazy, but classic shit, I decided it was necessary to get some of his antics on film for future comedic relief…he didn’t appreciate it. Pickles proceeded to throw my phone across the room, and then hit me in the chest. Calm and collected, I looked him in the eyes. Wil Van Dyke’s life flashed before his eyes, everyone could see the fear in his eyes after he realized he had just woken up the bear inside of Gordon Bombay and was about to the feel the heat. Yeah fucking right no one fucks with Pickles, I fetched my phone like a baby pug and continued my night in peace.
As much as I want to drive flaming knives through Van Dyke’s eyes right now, I have to give him credit for his mature antics at the end of high school. Wil had been waiting for this moment ever since he gave himself a swirly in the fifth grade. After having the most absurd spring break of his young and wasted life, Wil decided to take a break from the drinking until the end of the year. But Pickles couldn’t hold off from the liquor, after murdering one and a half water bottles of Jim Beam, we took a trip to Khoury’s, before he got there, Wil needed to text his Dad and made Whitey completely stop at a green light like the bitch he is, told his dad it was fine and made his way to wreak ultimate havoc at Khoury’s. VD was being his obnoxious self, quoting a drunken hick at the top of his lungs. Everyone was already pissed at the troll, but to push it further he felt it necessary to say “What up girl” to some young bitty with a guido walking behind her.. yeah wil you had a girlfriend.. nice work. When we tried to get him to calm down he wasn’t havin any of it. He chucked his juke across the room then went outside to throw up. Being a friend and not wanting to get kicked out of the joint; I took Pickles to chatard to cool down with tuna. That’s when things got really weird. Wil started to cry in the back of my car because all he wanted to do was go home but had already told his parents he was spending the night at gobs. He then got out of the car and cried for water, I gave him a full water bottle, and instead of being a normal human being and utilizing the greatest non intoxicative material God gave us, he took a couple sips and then poured the rest on a car driving by and on the ground. Pickles then began his infamous language. Wil began to speak in ways that no person has ever been able to comprehend. Some of the weirdest shit I have ever been a part of in my life. Wil called his girlfriend multiple times, screaming her name at the top of his lungs, and then when she said she needed to talk to her boyfriend, he threw a bigger shitfit than when he was grounded because he intentionally crapped in his pants and hid them so he didn’t have to miss any of the white sox game in 4th grade (true story), and launched his phone across the parking lot because he thought she had another boyfriend. Good fucking work jackass.
Much love and appreciation to all the fans who put up with Reggie’s childish posts and enjoy Mr. Bombay’s intellectual thrillers. Pat Kennedy for being hit number 2000 and HPER enemy number one, Mark Titus just because I want to know if Dallas Lauderdale eats little children, Reggie for giving Wil the opportunity to be cooler than someone for a change, and the makers of Kamchatka for the awesome hole in my stomach.
God Bless America. Nut.
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