Large Meals I Have Not Enjoyed

Large Meals I Have Not Enjoyed

by Knuckles the Clown

I ordered a domonoes pizza this week. I was stuck doing a bunch of shit at home and didn't wanna jerk around finding the can opener. I told the stupid retard who answered the phone to cook it extra cause these franchise places think you can cook a pizza in 5 minutes. The asshole delivery guy shows up and I give his money. he remarked "I didn't realize this address was a trailer". I should of murdered him right there and then but I was hungry. I retreat to my kitchen/livingroom/garage and open the box to find a pile of undercooked bread and cheese. I eat one piece and fling the rest of it in the garbage. I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!

Large Meals I Have Not Enjoyed, Part II

by Knuckles the Clown

I got out of work early the other day got home and still can't find the goddamned can-opener. I walked down the street and stopped in to Perkins. The hostess had acne. They sat me down if the middle of the fucking restaurant. I hate that shit. I'm by myself - stick me in a corner booth. But no, I end in the middle like a circus attraction for everyone to ogle, hey look at the lonley douche bag eating by himself. The waitress comes over and takes my drink order, I ask her if there is a newspaper floating around. She says "I'll see if I can dig one up." Fuck you you snide bitch!

Anyhow after a couple minutes she brings me my drink sans newspaper. I order the Chicken Tender Melt. At that moment a guy walks in who looked like the corpse from Weekend at Bernie's. It's 2 in the afternoon and this idiot is walking around inside perkins with sunglasses and a porn star mustache. After 5 minutes the hostess with acne goes over to Bernie and brings him a newspaper! She says "You're lucky, this is the only paper we have." MOTHERFUCKER, weekend at Bernies got the only newspaper and I'm stuck reading the dessert menu.

Anyhow the cragliy whore brings me my meal. It looks like two pieces of toast with broken crayons in between. And the menu says you get salsa and ranch on the side. Well I only get salsa which would only enhance the shittiness of this meal. I take one bite and ask for the check. On the way out I got one of Perkins' shitty muffins. I asked for blueberry and they were out. I get apple cinnamon. I start eating the thing on the walk home and I can't figure why it's called "Apple" Cinnamon. Well just as I get to the corner of Mulberry and Grandbee I spot what I can only determine was a rotten piece of apple core lovingly jammed in to the bottom of the muffin. I flung it at a homeless sleeping under the bench at dairy queen. He looked like Steven Segal's down-syndrome afflicted brother.


Large Meals I Have Not Enjoyed

by Benjamin Wrist, Ph.D

On Tuesday, I took my lovely bride-to-be out questing. We quested for a delicious meal! I did not have to travel far. There are several "five star" restaurants within fifteen miles of my home (the farthest I would ever travel on a Tuesday night...).

I gave the keys to my MR2 to a swarthy gentleman of apeish proportions. "Park her in front, Edward, and try to keep your jowels off the interior," I snided, as both my lovely fiance and I chortled at my Hyde reference. I palmed the oafish brute a twenty to let him know that there were no hard feelings with how well I am doing in comparison with how poorly he was doing.

We both enjoyed a fine dinner at Tericho's . I ordered for my lady-in-waiting, as I would never allow her to speak to a member of the waitstaff by herself, because their rogueish lack of class might betray a pedestrian upbringing and offend her! Plus, out of the two of us, only I spoke (perfect) French. She had attempted to order her own cuisine at a Swiss cafe once, to my horror, in English. My rolled eyes and agape mouth did more to stop a second happenstance of this inequity than any physical admonishment. You needn't always have to strike with an open slap for suitable feminine change, my friends!

The valet had my automobile ready upon our exit. I gave him a simple -- yet crisp! -- five dollar bill so that he might reflect upon the sheer negality of his station in life and better himself. My princess merriment told me that a twenty-five dollar gift was much too generous with her eyes, and I was forced to agree. On the other hand, I make more than that scratching myself in the morn! Ha ha ha... just kidding. I never have to scratch myself; I purchase moonsilk and lotion.

All in all it was a pleasant night! I removed my future bedmate's unmentionables and introduced some Lucky's Brand Cherry-Flavoured Twat Preserves so I could stomach the process of giving her hidey-slit the thrashing it was so begging for all the eve. We later had satisfactory missionary sex and said our Christian prayers. It was very good. I can say that.

A lovely Tuesday indeed! Now... what is with this story of this slovenly man-wart and his quest to eat at "domonoes"?

Ach! Ach! Ach!


About the authors: Benjamin Wrist, Ph.D is on the fast track to success at what he called a "Fortune 1" company. Knuckles the Clown is available for Communions, Inquisitions and Jahuars for $25 an hour plus bus fare.













The dessert menu never makes for good reading. It would be appreciated if they at least stuck a short story there.

Also, because it will help drive eyeballs: SEX.





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