Name: Anonymous 2010-06-21 6:52
Last week, I was having sex with my now ex-fiancee. She uttered something during sex that I didn't quite catch. "Huh?" I said. She shook her head in that 'nevermind' fashion, and I continued humping away. Then two seconds later, it hit me: she said "I slept with Scott." Scott is my now ex-best friend. Why does it always have to be the best friend? Why can't it be the fucking neighbor? It takes me a minute to really comprehend that statement as confusion and anger slowly builds. I get up, walk to my desk, pick up my phone, and hit the speed dial.
"Hey Scott, how you doing buddy. I know it's late, but I just had to call."
"Hey, uh, what's goin--"
"Did you fuck my fiancee?"
"What? No, I -"
"Cause she said you did. Did you fuck her?"
"It was this one time -"
As I hung up, I threw the phone out the window. I started softly, in that, 'don't-fucking-test-me' sort of yelling telling her to get the fuck out of my house. She tries to say things as she gets dressed, but I'm doing what I always do when I'm angry, depressed, happy, anxious, etc: browse /b/. After some over-the-shoulder yelling, a silence ensues, so I assumed she got the fuck out. I turn around, and there she is standing in the doorway. Her purse still on the table next to me, I pull out her cell phone and call 911 before she could run over to grab it out of my hand. I explain in an almost ironical tone (I don't know what the fuck was going on within me) that there was a strange woman in my doorway, and that she - GET THE FUCK OUT, BITCH - wouldn't leave my house. Please send a cop or - FUCK OFF - two over to escort her off the premises.
She finally gives in once I hang up and throw her the phone. I go back to /b/, shaking in anger. I can't decide whether I should get drunk or start hitting things, but I figure I should do both pretty soon. About thirty minutes of /b/ later, the cop arrived.
As I open the door, the cop began to ask me some questions.
Police: What's your name, sir?
Me: Excuse me, but I need to hit something, and I don't really feel like getting a felony right now.
In a sort of show-off-my-rage-to-the-cop and actually-release-some-rage way, I walk into my kitchen and start smashing dishes. I see the cop put his hand on his gun. I put a plate up to the wall and start punching continuously until my hand was bloodied and raw. I collapse in tears to the floor like a bitch leaving a trail of blood from the plate to the ground. Now, what were you saying officer?
He begins to question me, and I begin to explain the situation. After a while, I ask him to hit me. I really needed to feel something, and I was too exhausted to move. I stand up, and ask him to hit me in the gut with his baton thing. He, obviously, refuses, but I insisted. I got closer to him, and he decided to suddenly make good on his arrangement with me. He knocks me back in one blow, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting in the back of a cop car.
Sitting in the small jail cell, there was another guy leaning against the wall. I don't know quite how this happened, /b/, but I got into a pissing contest with this guy. I know you cannot see me, dear reader, but I assure you I am a small guy. He lost the pissing contest but won the fighting contest that quickly ensued. He took a needle and thread and sewed my ass shut and then kept feeding me and feeding me. Then he took my nuts, just my nuts, and put them on the dresser, and banged them shits with a spiked hammer. It was the Rza, the Gza, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, the Method Man, Raekwon, Inspectah Deck, U-God, and Masta Killa.
"Hey Scott, how you doing buddy. I know it's late, but I just had to call."
"Hey, uh, what's goin--"
"Did you fuck my fiancee?"
"What? No, I -"
"Cause she said you did. Did you fuck her?"
"It was this one time -"
As I hung up, I threw the phone out the window. I started softly, in that, 'don't-fucking-test-me' sort of yelling telling her to get the fuck out of my house. She tries to say things as she gets dressed, but I'm doing what I always do when I'm angry, depressed, happy, anxious, etc: browse /b/. After some over-the-shoulder yelling, a silence ensues, so I assumed she got the fuck out. I turn around, and there she is standing in the doorway. Her purse still on the table next to me, I pull out her cell phone and call 911 before she could run over to grab it out of my hand. I explain in an almost ironical tone (I don't know what the fuck was going on within me) that there was a strange woman in my doorway, and that she - GET THE FUCK OUT, BITCH - wouldn't leave my house. Please send a cop or - FUCK OFF - two over to escort her off the premises.
She finally gives in once I hang up and throw her the phone. I go back to /b/, shaking in anger. I can't decide whether I should get drunk or start hitting things, but I figure I should do both pretty soon. About thirty minutes of /b/ later, the cop arrived.
As I open the door, the cop began to ask me some questions.
Police: What's your name, sir?
Me: Excuse me, but I need to hit something, and I don't really feel like getting a felony right now.
In a sort of show-off-my-rage-to-the-cop and actually-release-some-rage way, I walk into my kitchen and start smashing dishes. I see the cop put his hand on his gun. I put a plate up to the wall and start punching continuously until my hand was bloodied and raw. I collapse in tears to the floor like a bitch leaving a trail of blood from the plate to the ground. Now, what were you saying officer?
He begins to question me, and I begin to explain the situation. After a while, I ask him to hit me. I really needed to feel something, and I was too exhausted to move. I stand up, and ask him to hit me in the gut with his baton thing. He, obviously, refuses, but I insisted. I got closer to him, and he decided to suddenly make good on his arrangement with me. He knocks me back in one blow, and the next thing I know, I'm sitting in the back of a cop car.
Sitting in the small jail cell, there was another guy leaning against the wall. I don't know quite how this happened, /b/, but I got into a pissing contest with this guy. I know you cannot see me, dear reader, but I assure you I am a small guy. He lost the pissing contest but won the fighting contest that quickly ensued. He took a needle and thread and sewed my ass shut and then kept feeding me and feeding me. Then he took my nuts, just my nuts, and put them on the dresser, and banged them shits with a spiked hammer. It was the Rza, the Gza, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, the Method Man, Raekwon, Inspectah Deck, U-God, and Masta Killa.