Sir Henry Saville died as he lived, under the constant pressure of a deadline.
Sir Henry Saville slurped in the drool, which attached his face to the manuscript on the desk. The overwhelmed writer had fallen asleep while attempting to finish the first draft of The Bible as ordered by King James of England. The last thing he remembered was his vision blurring, seeing double, then quadruple, and the darkness of slumber.
It was very apparent that the man was dying and these were going to be his final words. “No matter what you do, finish high school. Don’t ever mess with the Coreys, they will destroy your life, especially Core…” He passed with his eyes open and an odd twist on his blue lips.
The toupee on top of the mayor’s head was skewed, which made his face look terribly uneven. The staff wanted to tell the poor man to adjust it, but instead they remained silent in fear they might hurt his fragile feelings. There was a great sense of relief when a piano fell from the sky and crushed him to death. At first, there was great horror, followed by laughter. One witness pointed out, “It’s so fucking crazy how things work out, the easiest solution to a complex problem. God has the weirdest sense of humor.”
And now, a mash up.
“Humans are a lot like three-dollar bills, funny, awkward, and ultimately worthless.” Illustration ©1992 Jay Lynch
What? The? Fuck? Seriously. What the fuck is up with you people? All you people? By the way, yo humans, been a while, but what is wrong? As soon as I figure out how low your race truly is, you lower the bar, and then you go ahead and lower it some more. Stop it. Even the lowliest life form, the dog, think your breed is stupid. Sad. And to all you asshole idiots who wonder how the current president of the United States, Donald Trump, says the outrageous things he says; realize this. You are the problem. You are the damn oxygen to his fire: supporters and opponents alike on both sides, on all sides. Frankly, I am sick of Trump’s omnipresence, and I refuse to be that guy who speaks the obvious, like, look at how brightly the flames spread, or it is too fucking hot in here. None of it helps. By the way, you do not yet realize how much you will miss Trump after he’s gone. Believe me, it will be like the first day of meth withdrawal.
Disclaimer: The viewpoints expressed by the author do not necessarily reflect the opinions, viewpoints and official policies of sungmokoo.com. After all, it’s a God damn cat drawing.
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