Post by Joe Bananas on May 3, 2009 14:29:25 GMT -5
[“All Or Nuthin” by Three 6 Mafia is playing in the background as Joe Bananas lays on a hammock sipping on a Singapore Sling. Yes, that’s a drink you beer swilling idiots. Having not won anything at Hot Asian Sluts 2 he didn’t make any extra money, and seeing as he has a penchant for silk shirts and jewelry (mainly pearl necklaces) he has nothing but crumbs of pot picked out of the fibers of the carpet. He takes a hit on the skeleton bong anyway and coughs.]
Joe: Ah shit, there’s fucking pizza crust in this mon.
[He climbs out of the hammock and walks past a muted television set playing the Pam Grier classic Coffy to his weed drawer. He opens it only to find a single, ant sized bud.]
Joe: Fucking horse shit! I need to score fast.
[He pushes open the bamboo double doors of his Jamaican estate (he’s taken yet another vacation seeing as there isn’t another BOB show for almost a month) and cups his hands over his mouth to shout to his rickshaw chauffeur Gill.]
Joe: Yo nigga, where the weed at?
[Gill, a fair distance away, shrugs his shoulders. Joe notices a small stream of smoke escaping from his lips and a hastily hidden gray colored cone behind his back.]
Joe: You smoked the last of my fucking weed, didn’t ya?
[Gill just shrugs again, feigning ignorance. Joe frowns and walks down towards him, pissed off that he has to get sand in his sandals. He comes face to face with him and spins him around, finding the hidden joint.]
Joe: You red motherfucker!
[Gill just smiles stupidly and shrugs his shoulders.]
Joe: I ought to kick your fucking ass up this damn pineapple tree!
[Joe takes a toke on the spliff and suddenly calms down.]
Joe: Oh shit, I miss having this shit every day. I shouldn’t have left BRAND, BOB doesn’t pay enough to smoke more than once a week. I swear, I’d better win a fucking championship soon or I’m gonna go haywire. Smoking weed you found in the damn carpet is for crack fiends.
Gill: Why don’t you just go along with those porn offers? John Holmes only claimed to be hung like a horse, when he was only ten inches. Peter North aint got shit on you and OG Mudbone wears a fake dick. You’d be rolling in dough!
Joe: You know what? They wanted me to bang some ugly ass white chicks… and homey don’t play that. Nigga, it’s dark meat for me. Shit, I’ll bang asian sluts, I fucking love their slanty eyes for some reason, but I aint hitting that Jenna Jameson blonde bombshell crap. Or brunettes. Or redheads. Fuck it, if it aint Cherokee or Pinky I aint doin it.
Gill: How much fucking porn do you watch?!
Joe: Shut the fuck up! I’m sexually overactive! Jesus Christ.
[Joe scratches his arm and takes the last toke on the joint, disrespecting Gill for stealing pot from him.]
Joe: Anyway nigga, let’s go hit up some hookers. Funny thing is, I got a pack of magnums but they’ll fly off inside her with my powerful horse jizz. My balls are quivering like a fly in soup though, so I gots to get me some nut.
Gill: Aight, I here there’s this new bitch named Claudia Verelo or some shit from Spanish Town who warms her pink over hot coals.
Joe: I’d hit it!
Joe: Ah shit, there’s fucking pizza crust in this mon.
[He climbs out of the hammock and walks past a muted television set playing the Pam Grier classic Coffy to his weed drawer. He opens it only to find a single, ant sized bud.]
Joe: Fucking horse shit! I need to score fast.
[He pushes open the bamboo double doors of his Jamaican estate (he’s taken yet another vacation seeing as there isn’t another BOB show for almost a month) and cups his hands over his mouth to shout to his rickshaw chauffeur Gill.]
Joe: Yo nigga, where the weed at?
[Gill, a fair distance away, shrugs his shoulders. Joe notices a small stream of smoke escaping from his lips and a hastily hidden gray colored cone behind his back.]
Joe: You smoked the last of my fucking weed, didn’t ya?
[Gill just shrugs again, feigning ignorance. Joe frowns and walks down towards him, pissed off that he has to get sand in his sandals. He comes face to face with him and spins him around, finding the hidden joint.]
Joe: You red motherfucker!
[Gill just smiles stupidly and shrugs his shoulders.]
Joe: I ought to kick your fucking ass up this damn pineapple tree!
[Joe takes a toke on the spliff and suddenly calms down.]
Joe: Oh shit, I miss having this shit every day. I shouldn’t have left BRAND, BOB doesn’t pay enough to smoke more than once a week. I swear, I’d better win a fucking championship soon or I’m gonna go haywire. Smoking weed you found in the damn carpet is for crack fiends.
Gill: Why don’t you just go along with those porn offers? John Holmes only claimed to be hung like a horse, when he was only ten inches. Peter North aint got shit on you and OG Mudbone wears a fake dick. You’d be rolling in dough!
Joe: You know what? They wanted me to bang some ugly ass white chicks… and homey don’t play that. Nigga, it’s dark meat for me. Shit, I’ll bang asian sluts, I fucking love their slanty eyes for some reason, but I aint hitting that Jenna Jameson blonde bombshell crap. Or brunettes. Or redheads. Fuck it, if it aint Cherokee or Pinky I aint doin it.
Gill: How much fucking porn do you watch?!
Joe: Shut the fuck up! I’m sexually overactive! Jesus Christ.
[Joe scratches his arm and takes the last toke on the joint, disrespecting Gill for stealing pot from him.]
Joe: Anyway nigga, let’s go hit up some hookers. Funny thing is, I got a pack of magnums but they’ll fly off inside her with my powerful horse jizz. My balls are quivering like a fly in soup though, so I gots to get me some nut.
Gill: Aight, I here there’s this new bitch named Claudia Verelo or some shit from Spanish Town who warms her pink over hot coals.
Joe: I’d hit it!