WHEN I DIE>>>>

I can't wait to die. Not because I'm emo, not because I WANT to die, just because of all the sweet people I could meet. I mean I could literally hang out with ANYONE.

Here are some things I want to do after I die.

Smoke out of an apple with Johnny Appleseed.

Beat up Elenor Roosevelt, and punch her in her CUNT.

Play frisbee with the ORIGINAL HIPPIE, Jesus Christ.

Watch "The First 48" with O.J. Simpson (I know he's not dead...YET), and find out how he really did it.

Bernie Mac. That's it.

Hang out with my long lost friend, DEAD.

There's this guy named Thomas Edison, I wanna give him a haircut, film it, post it on youtube, and label it something misleading.

Play a joke on Heath Ledger.

HAHAHA I made a dead Heath Ledger joke.

Go horseback riding with Kenneth Pinyan.

Depants James K. Polk.

Give Roberto Clemente a wet willy.

Sneak up on Frank Sinatra, put my finger down my throat, and puke in his martini, while Dean Martin looks on in horror.

There's alot more.

But these are like the main ones.

The thing is, I bet all these people are like waiting for me in heaven and are all like, what the fuck? this kid's so fucked up, I'm gonna kick his ass if he tries puking in my drink, or depants me.

So basically, I'm gonna get the shit kicked outta me when I die.

Fuck, I'm so DEAD.

Pat Sajak, Game Show Host. American Hero.

Normandy, Oct. 1942.- Me and my troops were deployed by our colonel, Colonel Sanders, to go and kill the Nazi son of a bitches. "Coming up on ya rear!" yelled my platoonmate, Roger Staubach. Roger was a wholesome man, raised in Brooklyn by his Italian-American Pizza Pie makin' father, Roger Staubach Sr., and his whore of a mother, Whore Staubach. He was bringing a load of ammunition up to the tank from behind me. "Didn't mean ta scare ya by threatening to ejaculate on your backside, Sajak." Roger told me. "No problem, I never once felt the pressure of your jizz creamin' up on my mudslide I got going for a backside," I replied. "Besides, we gotta get goin' anyways. We're behind schedule. We were supposed to be battling that gang of Nija Nazis in the Alps an hour ago!" So off we went. To battle those tricky Nazi Ninjas in the Alps.

Looking down from the mountain, upon the bluff in the valley, I noticed a strong prescence of burning hair in the air. We were adjacent to the concentration camp, ASSWITCH, the worst kind of concentraion camp. No Jews, minorities, gays, or Germans were housed and killed here, but many still perished. ASSWITCH was a concentration camp for mailmen. I know what you're thinking, "Mailmen? But why would a mailman be in a concentration camp?" Here's why. In 1939 the Grrrreat Grizzly Mailmean Strike occured. Every mailman in the city of Des Moines, Iowa went on strike. They refused to shave their beards, and the American Government was forced to take immediate action. They sent all the mailmen to the Alps, where there was a camp sent up and run by Americans living in the Alps. Three weeks ago, due to the shortage of manpower this great war needs, the American Government recalled all those mailmen and enlisted them into the war. Then the Nazi Ninjas attacked, killed 49 mailmen, 1 maillady, and a common housecat, Sherlinda. We are the ones sent in to clean up this mess. We are a band of brothers fighting for a common cause. That cause being the sake of all post office workers in the city of Des Moines' wellbeing. I, Pat Sajak, solemnly swore to this American land that I would stand up and defend this great nation. Me and Staubach went into unchartered territory and approached a group of Ninja Nazis. "You think you can just karate chop these mailmen? Well karate chop this, Mutha fucka!" Staubach yelled to the group of unsuspecting martial arts experts, who were actually buttfucking at the time, so you could call them martial arts SEXperts. "Ve vant you to know, fuck you." yelled the leading Ninja, Franz Ferdinand. An epic battle then errupted, with thousands dying, including all the mailmen. Noone survived, except me, Pat Sajak, and this chapter is usually forgotten about in American History. Sorry for wasting your time.

The Biggest Super Fat Guy Ever

One day there was a huge hole in the bottom of the deepest part of the ocean. The whole world was scared because the top scientists told everyone that if the hole got too big then everyone would be sucked into the abyss and never come out. So they had two choices of what they could do, they could do nothing and die a terrible death or, try to find a super huge fat guy who would just clog the hole up. Then the world began the search for the fattest man known. They looked all over the world but no one was fat enough. Then someone remembered how fat sumo wrestlers are. So everyone was happy because they were all going to live and prosper and carry on for thousands of years to come but, it was too late and everyone got sucked in and smashed together which subsequently created the biggest super fat guy ever.

So everyone was dead but the fat guy wasn’t

PARFAIT from the GRAVE.

"Now I said 'Goddamnit! You will listen to me this instant!'" said the exuberant glob of fat known at Walter. "You will listen to me, and listen to me well! Noone in this house is to touch my chocolate ice cream parfait. Those who dare scavenge my frozen delight will surely pay dire consequences, faggots." said Walter to his roommates, Nigger Jim and Dewtrough. Nigger Jim and Dewtrow obliged politely, but it was a psuedo-obligement, they planned on touchin' that parfait.
The day continued with Nigger Jim, Dewtrough, and Walter doing their routines. Brushing their teeth, eating lunch, cutting holes in cantalopes to fornicate, and drying their bedsheets. After dinner Walter said, "It's getting late, I'm going to bed. Good night boys, but don't touch my parfait, or ya know, I'll kill ya and shit." The boys agreed and Walter went to his room, where he fell asleep on his red, lead bed. "Let's fuckin' eat that shit!" yelled Nigger Jim. "Oh fa sho, homeskillet! I had my eye on that treat all night and I feel like I could eat that parfait and say something along the lines of, 'Wow. I am extremely glad I stole Walter's parfait. My hunger is satisfied and I kinda wanna kill Walter.'" said Dewtrough. "You wanna kill Walter too?" replied Nigger Jim. "Ever since he said not to take his parfait I wanted to kill him so I could take his parfait." Dewtrough exclaimed.
The boys decided the best way to KILL WALTER was to take a Cal Ripkin Jr. rookie card and give Walter papercuts in between his toes until he was like "Ouch! Fuckin' stop douchebags! It hurts! And what the fuck, that's a Cal Ripkin Fucking Jr. rookie card, where the fuck did you just find one of those? They're like rare and shit, and you're just using it to give me papercuts in between my toes!" and then when he was screaming in pain from the card, to shoot him with a gun in the head. So they did. And then they cleaned up Walter's dead corpse with Lysol and whatever other kind of cleaning shit that Walter kept under the sink, andate his parfait. They then proceeded to puke all of it up onto Walter's grave because it wasn't even good, it actually was like a week old and already half-eaten, and it was like a little bit chunky, but they weren't too sure. "Serves him right. Never should have threatened me like that over that parfait." said Nigger Jim. "Damn straight." said Dewtrough.

HAHA

Yeah, cer-nig, youre really dumb

Day one of the end of time.

There once was a man from Nantucket. His name was Cernig. He enjoyed many a-glorious things to day, and lived lavishly in the limelight. Daily rituals Cernig had included smoking pot, making Peanut butter and no jelly sandwichs that he ate on the floor of his living room because his parents would freak out on his ass if they knew he was eating on the sofa. acting like Mickey Rooney, wishing he had a dog, and off course, the cockfights. Cernig had the best cock to fight with. It was small, but subtle. Smelly, but wholesome. Curved, and bent. But one day Cernig said, "That's it! My cock is going to own all cocks in a a no-holds barred cage match!" Someone from down the street was heard cheering in response, "Shut the fuck up! It's 3 in the God damn morning, besides, your cock doesn't have the heart to slay beasts like mine. My cock has twice the number of dirty diseases shove down the throats of the competition! It's the greatest cock of all! But fuckin'...Cernig's sister. Anyways let's fucking duel our cocks and midnight tommorow and we will see whose cock can truely be called the Dragonmaster! Muahahah!" Cernig, hearing this grew weary and his eyes shed little drips of Yoohoo chocolate drink. He was about to become mincemeat.
The next day arrived and at ll:45 Cernig went to the corner of his street, cock in hand, ready for a battle of epic porportions. Little did that guy from the last paragraph who was yelling at Cernig, noone ever found out his name, maybe it was Norm. Probably not though, 'cause not alot of people name their kids Norm anymore. Kinda a dead name right? Like first off, it rhymes with Swarm, like a wasps' hive and shit. Why the fuck would anyone name their kid Norm, it's fucking stupid. Anyways that dude was cocky going into the cockfight, but he's gonna come out cockless after. Cernig's cock was delivering blow after blow to the other dude's cock, battering and bruising it unto it finally choked up and puked all over Cernig's cock. Cernig's cock then went on to penetrate the other dude's cock until it bled to death. The moment the fight was over Cernig grabbed his cock in joy, and shook it in victory. "My cock dominates all opposing cocks!" Cernig took his cock home, where he fed it prime rib and cauliflower in celebration. Then he put his prize winning chicken to sleep, pulled out his penis and masterbated.

Revision: I realize now that most of you probably got confused and thought Cernig was fighting with his weiner. No, it was his chicken that he bought at the farmer's market one afternoon.