Tag Archives: Teenage Life

Arrogance always leads to Bitch-Slapping!

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Wassup Morons!

How was your day today? You know guys, I am sorry; I am deeply apologetic that I keep on calling you morons. I shouldn’t do that! I shouldn’t do that at all! As a matter of fact, you guys should be respected! Respected for your existence, even after possessing the inability to be content, reluctance to deal with changes and the A-grade arrogant character you dimwits have.

I was shopping at the nearby supermarket, minding my own business you know, avoiding any activity from your species when suddenly a blonde bastard started shouting at his dad. The pitch of this little dude was so strident that it scared the hell outta three seemingly lighthearted sales girls. I immediately closed my eyes, counted up to five and rushed towards the checkout counter. Now, to the bad luck of this little manifestation of Satan, he came and stood just after me in the queue. His male-breasted father in his late 30s was consistently absorbing this douchebags’ demands.  I don’t remember the dimwit’s name so I would just call him Bastard and his dad, Poor Bastard. Trust me, it’s much more convenient and appropriate as well. Here is the snippet of the conversation and the turn of events which took place.

 

Bastard: Dad, I gotta have the Xbox 360 this week and this week itself!

Poor Bastard (softly and pampering): Bastard!I just got you the latest gaming console. Didn’t I? How long ago was that?

B (shouting): Dad! It was last month! This is the latest shit! All my friends are buying it and I just gotta have it. How difficult is it to understand?

PB (concerned): Bastard! Mind you language. Will you?

B (getting red): No I won’t, if you won’t listen to me.

The lady at the checkout counter stopped reading the barcodes. Apparently the teenage drama seemed far more interesting than the mundane job of scanning milk cartons. Meanwhile, I continued to count with closed eyes. This time I had to count up to ten.

PB (heaving a sigh): Okay okay, I will. But, you gotta promise me one thing. You have to improve your behavior at school.

B (glaring eyes): Dad, seriously, I am not in the mood to discuss this right now.

I thought to myself, “In the name of god, what the hell was that?”

Who the fuck talks to his dad like that? And, who the hell listens to shit like that from a 13-year old?

If, it was my dad, and it was me with this kinda atrocious behavior, I would have been locked in the car’s trunk for one whole freakin day. But yeah, this situation was different. Probably, with his DNA, his dad had passed on his balls also to his son.

PB (Sternly): Here is the deal bastard! I will not tolerate this kinda behavior from you!

Finally, the testosterone in his body spoke. I felt a smashing slap was definitely on the cards. I was smiling to myself and remembering the sweet sound of the hot molten-lava slaps I used to receive as a bastard myself. But alas, as I said before, he was the manifestation of Satan himself. He revolted!

B (fuming): And I would not tolerate YOU anymore. I would tell mom, that you have been smoking cigarettes every night down in the basement. I would call up your boss and tell him, that you weren’t sick the last week and I would tell Grandma that you didn’t visit Grandpa’s gravestone on his death anniversary which was yesterday.

And after saying all this in front of around twenty people, he had the audacity to throw the brown bag of vegetables on the floor!

That was it for me! My counting had already reached fifty and counting beyond that was just not good math. By this, the checkout counter had turned into an opera house with the audience looking down from up the shelves as well. I turned around, grabbed his dad’s shoulder, went really close to him and looked him in the eyes. The Poor Bastard seemed panicked.

Me: You know, your son reminds me of my childhood. Isn’t he adorable? Good job raising him up, I would say. Just one piece of small advice, don’t leave him alone with knives and all, with you in the next room. At least, that’s not what my dad did!

The Poor Bastard gulped a huge spit ball and looked towards his clueless son.

I went up to the checkout counter and placed my bag, as the checkout girl scurried through my stuff. On my way out, I heard a loud slap followed by even a louder girl like cry.

Now, there still might be a huge number of dumbasses who wouldn’t have gotten the point. Not your fault, shit happens, just like you did!

Let me put it in simple English words with a simple but a very deep metaphor.

“Arrogance always leads to bitch slapping. Period”

~ Mr. Whacko Jacko

First Love! Really?

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Wassup you morons!

As promised before, I am back yet again! Yes! I can see the excitement in your eyes! This post has been written by ME, “the one who should not be named and the one who will kick you in the groin if you do (just kidding! On second thoughts, I will! I never kid around)”.

So, had your dinner? NO! Fought with your parents again? YES!

Damn you! All of you hormonal devils! All of you!

Must be lying in your bed, crying yourself to sleep like yesterday! I know what is going on in that tiny little head of yours. Erica, Mary, Jessica, John, Jason? Or anyone who didn’t say the three letter word to you when you poured your loser of a heart out in front of another moron.

BANG ON! Aren’t I? You know what…ummm…What should we call you….still thinking….Alright, let’s call you shoelace and your love interest diarrhea. So shoelace, what the hell happened?

Lemme guess, you went up to diarrhea and said, I think I love you. Diarrhea looked around, looked down, felt embarrassed and rejected shoelace. Maybe diarrhea thought that shoelace was not good enough. Maybe diarrhea laughed on shoelace’s face in front of other shoelaces and left off. Maybe diarrhea rejected shoelace over a phone call or worse, over a text message.

And since then, shoelace has been dragging around a perfectly able body and mind everywhere like the loser bunny in a Duracell ad. Now, I am not gonna ask shoelace, which is YOU, to make a change in your faggoty behavior. I would just tell you a small story about a person, a person named, well, Whacko!

Whacko was in 5th standard when he had his first crush, yes that’s what it is, just a crush, infatuation and nothing more. So, coming back to Whacko, he used to checkout this cute little thing every second of the day. Often trying to make any kind of contact, be it physical or verbal, Whacko used to spend hours waiting for her. And finally, one day just like shoelace, Whacko proposed to her. She looked around, looked down, felt embarrassed and said nothing. Whacko was nervous, his heart was thumping hard, probably about to burst out of his chest. But, she said nothing! Whacko felt rejected, embarrassed and small just like shoelace might be feeling right now. He turned around and started walking away when suddenly she said, “YES”! Whacko had a series of emotions at the same time. He felt thrilled, horny, sad, horny, crazy and horny simultaneously.

So, it was Whacko’s time now! He and his cute little thing roamed around everywhere holding hands like two faggots all the time. Making sweet talks was one thing Whacko learned early and was darn good at. Making out became like a physical training class, happening every day. Yes, he was getting some! Then one day came in a new student.

And Boooyah all, it was again Whacko’s time. Whacko used to checkout this cuter little thing every second of the day. He became hornier. Often trying to make any kind of contact, be it physical or verbal, Whacko used to spend hours waiting for her. And finally, one day just like before, Whacko proposed to her. She looked into his eyes, smiled, held his hand and said YES. Whacko felt skeptical, horny, happy, horny, doubtful and horny simultaneously.

Whacko was spellbound! He indulged into this new dessert too much. Stealing money from his dad’s wallet became like a physical training class, happening every day. Yes, he did get some, this time from his dad though, but that’s another story! Then one day, just like before, came in a new student.

And this time, it was not Whacko’s time. He got dumped, but unlike shoelace, he MOVED ON! Because, he knew three things for sure:-

  1. He was awesome!
  2. He was awesome!
  3. And oh yes He was awesome!

So, here is the deal faggot! Either you can get off your ass, wash your face, have your dinner, kiss your parents goodnight and go to bed. Or else, you can mail to whackitup@gmail.com specifying your country, so that I can send a list of blood-sucking psychiatrists who would rip-off your parents till you actually go mad.

Signing off!

~Mr. Whacko Jacko