TARD STORIES VOL. 1 The Demented Squirt Gun. ........6/23/2006 12:07 AM
Hey everyone. I was just sitting here thinking to myself, what do I have to offer to the marvel that is the world wide web? What will make me stand out in peoples minds. Unfortunately the one thing that keeps coming to mind isnt exactly the thing that Im most proud of. Far from it actually. Its stories about a job I once had. I may now be a respected member of the law enforcement community, but once upon a time I did work at a Tard farm. At least thats what a lot of us called it. It was a home for the mentally retarded. Here is one of many tales from my years of experience.
Names have been changed to protect the vile perpetrators:
Part 1 of 3
Once upon a time, on a tard farm far away from here, I was busy cooking the residents (thats the politically correct way of saying retards.) dinner. That was when one of my co-workers ran into the kitchen laughing hysterically. Between the uncontrollable laughter, and attempts to pull me out of the room, I discerned two things: One) Something was horribly wrong with a resident named Robbie Hotchkins, and Two) It was seriously funny. I left the hotdogs (retards love hotdogs) to boil over, and followed my co-worker out of the room, down the hall, and into the living room, where there was a hammock chair in the corner, hanging form the ceiling. Robbie loved to sit in that hammock chair.
Before I go on let me paint a little picture of who Robbie Hotchkins is. Some would say he had a strong brow, well others would say it seemed a bit lumpy, where I just found myself saying thats one huge friggin forehead. Under the forehead were his eyes, yes they were in there somewhere. Robbie rarely opened his eyes far enough for you to even see what color they were. He was this super skinny, short guy that stumbled around the house with his eyes barely open, like someone who had had way to much to drink.
Part 2 of 3
Bumping into the t.v. stand here, crashing head first into the sliding screen door there, and all the while swearing at you in some secret retard language that no one understood. You didnt even have to be in the room for him to blame his stumbling on you, and the only reason youd know it was directed at you is because in the middle of all the inane babbling youd here your name loud, and clear.
Anyway, back to the story. I found Robbie in the hammock chair, fully clothed, but he had his penis pulled through his zipper, and he was just starting to use it like some sort of demented squirt gun. Luckily, he was the only one in this water, er, piss fight. Just as I rounded the corner he let himself have it. Right in the face, mouth wide open with a deep chuckle, piss sprayed everywhere. It hit him first, of course, in that huge forehead of his, it got in his hair, his mouth, on his chin, in his ears, down the front of his shirt, in his eyes, and again, lucky for me, he didnt waste a drop. None of it got on the furniture, or the carpet. I quickly removed him from the chair, and began to guide him down the hall to the shower. I had him by one arm, and my co-worker had him by the other. I asked my co-worker once again what he had been doing before I got there that was so funny, and between giggles I was told that It was too much to describe. Obviously though, Robbie thought it was just as funny, because just when my co-worker replied to my inquiry, he had his own reply. He turned, and look me square in the face, a little too close for my comfort, and chuckled with pleasure.
Part 3 of 3
Just then he exhaled a steamy breath right in my face, and the smell of semen on his breath was so overwhelming that I almost vomited. Did I mention that Robbie Hotchkins was also very flexible. I got it out of my co-worker later that he was indeed sucking on his own skin flavored lollipop before she came to get me.
The End
Tard Stories Archive
|
Tard stories volume ONE
The Demented Squirt Gun. 
July Issue. Posted 6/23/2006 12:07 AM |
Tard stories volume TWO
The Jawbreaker. 
August Issue. Posted 7/27/2006 10:25 PM |
