that one guy/girl (or if you're REALLY
lucky, more than
) who (on a full moon, bible study, or whatever delusional crank tweek event
is occurring) doses on a ton of methamphetamine and feels the hopelessly insecure need to NOT keep his or her dumb fucking tron-mouth shut.
At first you seem genuinely interested in what these mork's have to say, only
to watch these future
cia agents spout off inane horseshit
after inane horseshit about
witchcraft, psychic networks, rocket science 101, left of center but morbidly ignorant self-righteous morality, mommy, militant nazism, hokie good hearted wholesomeness, or they
might just be your
run of the mill
deviant doing their sunday best to disguise
themselves as your bestest
buddy for the night (they will
eventually get an even wilder hair
and beg you to join them
on a fun trip to the porn shop, probably to put on another disguise
and talk some more).
the more you get sucked into their silly classic rock mentality and kill them with
kindness, the more they kill
their beady eyes and bad breath. your only
hope is to actually have a conversation with
a friend who doesnt want
to start a new business with
you or predict
when the aliens will
telepathically send us space
machine blueprints through tv sets.
those who know what i'm talking about will
no doubt relate to this one. and to those who don't, yes it happens and i'm sure, will
friend: hey man, jack is having a party. lets go.
me: really, sounds like a fun couple
of nights. no class for me then. thanks
friend: yep, out of the question
*car screaches into driveway almost hitting mailbox*
doorway entering 10+ people in all of their yap-happiness*
friend: hey man, there's that crank tweek who secretly loves
me: oh its no secret, and i'm using
you as my human shield to deflect his god damned mouth bullets.
crank tweek: hey who knows what
space chicken occult nasa tron fdkjdso79758927545074059048904³