Danny and Mario: Baby Stroller Mother

"Mario."

"What up?"

"I can almost see up that girl's skirt."

"Where?"

"Right the fuck over there... three o'clock to you."

"AM or PM?"

"Yes..."

"Fuck.  She seriously just has to bend over like eight degrees more and we'll be able to see her underwear."

"I know, you fuck."

"Wait.  Wait patiently, son."

Mario and Danny waited patiently.  No one could see what they were up to though.  But, yes, they wanted to see up this girl's skirt... to look at her underwear, or whatever was under there.

"Fuck... almost... almost...," both of them said.

"You think that's her kid?"  Asked Mario.

"Yea, it has to be her kid, but shush dude.  We're almost there."

"Fuck, she even has a hot face.  A plus."

They were looking on--intently.  If they were lucky, they would catch a glimpse of what was underneath the flowery tiny min-skirt that the woman was wearing, if they were lucky.

"Please...," both said.

"HEY!"  Some big ass fuck yelled.

"HOLY SHIT!"  Mario yelled, "You scared the shit out of me, bro."

"HAHA!  He scared me too," Danny laughed and looked at this big buff faggot guy.

"What are you guys doing?"  Buff faggot guy asked Mario and Danny.

Well, shit, neither Danny nor Mario quite liked this guy's tone.  They turned their full ass attention to this guy.  This guy was about three feet taller than Danny and about a foot taller than Mario.  Mario poked this motherfucker hard, right on the chest.

"Can we help you?"  Mario asked

"Ouch.  You sons of bitches.  Were you trying to look up that lady's skirt?"  Big guy turned into a real pussy.

"Hey, can we help you?"  Danny pierced the big guy's poor little skull with his stare.

"Were you trying to look up that lady's skirt?"

Danny almost lost it.

"Hey you fucking asshole, you better just leave, or Danny alone is going to kick the shit out of you."  Well, you could tell Mario was concerned for the big galoot, but you could also tell that he was serious as all hell--and hell is serious as fuck.  Mario got a little closer to the big fuck, "You better fucking leave, princess."

Danny turned his back on Mario and the big guy.  He was, sure as hell, losing it, "Mario.  Tell this guy to beat it."

"Beat it, pussy."  Mario got in the big guy's face.

"You... you guys... you guys are faggots."  Well, the big guy said the wrong thing now, didn't he.

Danny turned around, "Come here you motherfucker!"

The big guy was stunned, but he didn't back down.  Danny rushed him, jumped like five feet in the air, grabbed the big guys collar, and then tripped him by making him lose his balance.  Once Danny was above this big fuck, he started slapping the big guy hard on the face and yelling in his face, "What do you want?!  Huh?!  You want me to kick your pussy ass?!"  Danny sure was slapping the shit out of this fuck.  One would wonder, why wasn't Danny just punching this fucker.  Well, there's a different element to slapping someone than there is to punching him.  After slapping and yelling at him around for a bit Danny backed off.

"Mario..."

Mario stepped up, "Bro just get the fuck out of here.  Don't say anything."

The big guy got up, dusted his clothes off proudly, and got the fuck out of dodge.

"Damn it man."  Danny was pissed.  He hated slapping dudes around, "Is she still around?"

"Nah, she's gone," Mario grinned his big ass fucking usual grin.  Danny and Mario pounded their dumb ass fists together.

"A motherfucker can't try to look up a woman's skirt in peace these days," one of them said.

"We were so close to seeing her underwear dude," one of them responded.

They walked off into the sunset or sunrise or one way or another.

I Saw So Little (True)

From now on, when writing these things, I'll let you know if they were true, partly true, or just plain fiction.  It will be designated by a (True), or a (Partly True), and a (Fiction).  I'll also let you know when it's an opinion piece.  Ok?  This story, about me, is true.  And it's fun... or at least I think so :)

I saw so little.  It was so weird how little I saw.

I'm in fucking 2nd grade.  In 2nd grade I didn't use the word "fucking" yet.

My teacher, Mrs. Armstrong (she didn't have a first name; I assure it), was awesome.  Yes, she put me with the slow reading group (even though I was an avid reader), but still... she was pretty awesome.  She would cross her legs, and she would wear a tight business type dress all the time.  How old is a 2nd grader?  I'm 30 now.  I don't know how old fucking 2nd graders are.  They definitely aren't old enough for me to hit on them, so who cares.

So, I'm in 2nd grade, and Mrs. Armstrong crosses her legs, and she is wearing a tight business type skirt that cuts off above the knee.  As a 2nd grader, I didn't care about the hotness of the matter: I just noticed these things.  She crossed her legs, and, loudly, I would say "I can cross my legs like that too!"  And I would cross them like she did.  Shit, if I saw a woman cross her legs that way now (and I do all the time), I'd get a boner (and I do... no matter who's crossing their legs like that... I get a boner.  Hot, tight, business skirt that cuts over the knees with legs crossing all over the place?  Yes, I get a boner).

Mrs. Armstrong didn't mind me mimicking her and hitting girls and tearing apart other students' drawings.  She was cool.  And she didn't look bad.  As a 2nd grader, I didn't get boners or think of girls in that way.  As far as girls were concerned, they were either your girlfriend (which didn't have any sexual meaning to it--she was just your "girlfriend"--someone you were going to marry I guess), or she was a stupid girl you were supposed to aim rocks at.

One fine fucking day, Mrs Armstrong let us go to the Lego convention that had set up in our fucking library.  Awesome!  For a 2nd grader, going to a bullshit Lego convention was AWESOME.  We were going to be able to see cool scenes of Legos!  Some old ass man ass had built up a little Lego convention for us.  We would get to walk by every fucking Lego scene and say things like, "Wow, this little Lego man is wearing a construction hat, and there goes the cement truck, perfect!"  Or, "Hey cool!  Here's a little Lego Zebra!  He's in a goddam Lego Zoo!  I can't fucking believe it!"  Or, "Well look here Elizabeth!!!  Here's a goddam fucking Lego scene where there's a Lego prostitute giving a Lego old ass taxi driving Lego man's dick off!  And his little Lego fucking Taxi cab is outside the little fucking Lego ass broken down Lego hotel!  I love it Elizabeth!  And hey!  CLASS!  I just heard Elizabeth FART!!!  EWWWW!!! SHE SUCKS!!!  Let's throw rocks at her Mexican ass!"  I couldn't wait to go to this goddam show! :)

Oh, but wait.  Mrs. Armstrong had a warning for us before we got to go check out the dicksucking Lego antics of the beautiful Lego prostitute.

"Class!  We get to go see the Lego exhibit in the library of the school.  Our proud Escondido Juniper Elementary School!  But, ONE RULE," she said.  "One rule," Mrs. Armstrong said.  My ears perked up. Rule?  A rule?  Hmmm, this is going to be interesting.  Why would there be a rule to go see the Legos?  I just want to see the Legos, thought my 2nd grade big brain.  "The rule," Mrs. Armstrong said, "is that if anyone of you sons-of-bitches stealing a Lego, you will be in BIG trouble... if I even HEAR of one of you stealing a Lego, you will be in BIG trouble!"  No one that is in 2nd grade wants to be in BIG trouble; I'll tell you that!  I have nieces that tell me about the horrors of being in BIG trouble (they're in 2nd grade or so).

Well fuckin-a.  I was pissed.  This is a true story.  The first thing my 2nd grade brain thought was: WHO THE FUCK SAID ANYONE WAS GOING TO STEAL A FUCKING LEGO!?  WE JUST WANT TO SEE THE GODDAM LEGOS!  Well fuck this, I thought to myself.  No one was going to steal a Lego (I knew this because I was the leader of the whole school, and nobody would steal anything without my permission).  Well fuck this.  Just because of this odd accusation, I decided to steal a Lego.

In we went.  The Lego exhibit was stunning!  I enjoyed it for a time, but then it was time.  "Hey Luke... cover me... I'm going to steal that Lego head off that Lego man."

"Danny... You shouldn't... you really shouldn't," Luke said.

"Shut the fuck up and stand behind this bookcase and look out goddam it."

Luke peered around the bookcase and gave me the goddam thumbs up.  I walked by a seen and snatched up my own little Lego head.  That'll teach Mrs. Armstrong I thought to myself pleasantly.  I walked for about thirty more seconds, and then I heard her beautiful voice.

"Alright class!  Everyone!  Outside!"

How the fuck did she find out!  NO NO NO NO NO NO!

I looked around for the class misfit (other than me) Aaron.  He was a red-head, and he had a propensity for beating up nerds every weak.  "Hey Aaron, take the Lego head man.  She's gonna catch me!"

"No can do Danny.  You're on your own."

SHE put us up against the wall outside of the library: "One of you stole a Lego head.  Who was it?"

No one said a peep.  All the students knew better than to snitch on me or Aaron.

"OK then.  I will search every ONE of you ONE BY ONE."

And down the line she came.  I put my hand in my pocket.  Inside my pocket, I grabbed the awesome little Lego head and made a fist around it and kept my hand in my pocket.  I noticed a trashcan, not but two feet away.  She was too close.  She was two students away from me.  I pulled my little 2nd grade fist out.  Both of my arms went down to the ground straight.  I stood like a misfit soldier.  Aaron was to my left, "Please?"  "Nope."  We both looked straight ahead.  We had both been to the Principle's Office before, but never did we relish going back to it.

"Danny?" SHE asked.

No response came from me other than the following.  I stuck my arm straight out (90 degrees from my body with the palm of my little fist facing up).

"Yes?"  SHE asked.

I opened my little fist to reveal the little Lego head.  I looked straight ahead, right past Mrs. Armstrong's waistline.  Aaron was proud.

"Give that to me.  Off to the Principle's Office with you.  We're going to call your parents."  I was marched off by some yard duty bitch or some shit.

I was like seven years old.  Twenty years later: "Sir, do you know where you are?" Some officer was talking to me: I think.

"Huh?"

"Sir, are you drunk?"

"Huh?  I ain't saying nothing.  Leave me alone."

"Off to jail with this guy."

"You can't beat me.  None of you can beat me... but I like you guys... you guys are nice, and I apologize for being drunk in public.  Off to the jail with me old chaps."