First of all, I want to ask you if you're in the business of stealing lines from Calix, or if you're just so uninspired you accidentally took his bag? More than like it was the second one, because I don't think you're even smart enough to know to find out where to steal lines from him. It's cool, papi. Make your bullshit excuses later. We'll all, of course, act like we're ever so impressed with your excuses and hope you don't notice the insincerity of our words. Because, we want you to feel special. This is your career, as you've pointed out, after all. Your legacy. You're the one who's been in this business forever and a decade.
I get that, and I respect it. But, you're mistaken when you think you're going to win the match. You won't. And it's not a matter of bringing shame on your family, I don't know how you're stupid enough to get that. It's that your family will be tired of dealing with you. They won't want to have to talk to you, and hear your bullshit stories about how good you are, and yet you still lost to a penis.
Make your dick jokes about the vas deferens and the the Urethra, and all of that stupid shit. I don't know if you're being obtuse or if you're trying to say I'm smarter than I'm saying I am. But, your self deprecation accusations force me to ponder something. Are you aware that Penii don't have eyes, and cannot see. Nor can they think, or read. So, you know, it's not self deprecation, it's fact. When I make a mistake with something, or don't see something, it's because I'm blind, and cannot hop around on my own. It's why I need Chuck, Francois, and Rico. Not the way you need Tracy, Esteban, and Julio. No, you need them to clean your house, cup your non-descended testicles, and make sure that if one does drop you won't get Testicular Torsion, because I hear that's a pain. Hahaha! Funny, I heard it. Because Dicks don't have ears. Hahaha. Wait, that's a fact, and it detracts from me, by using facts. Shit, I'm being self deprecating again. I guess this means that Kaleidoscope is going to be crying into his pillow, instead of just biting it. Hey, does Tracy offer you a chance to get your shoes off before forcing your face into the pillow and telling you to bite down?
Wait, I called you gay, that's old hat for you. You're tied of it. Because you're a legend in the business. A legend that gets his asshole powdered and stretched out before every match, but to make sure he doesn't leave little Gilly Tracks in his shorts, someone shoves a Subway Footlong up there. Not Jared, though. He sticks to little ones. This guy just sticks to stealing lines from Calix and hoping we don't notice. Sorry, bub. We noticed. We also noticed that grey hair you've been trying to hide, but in your old age you forgot that Touch of Grey doesn't completely remove it all. Leaves just a small bit, to make you look distinguished. Not for you, though. For you it makes it look like you forgot to take your meds again. Hence your loss to a penis. A champion penis.
Da Gilly Will cocks its head slightly to the left, and opens his slit ever so slightly before closing it again. This repeats while the wind blows throw his hair, the lowers. His sack comes up, and then stretches back out. He pauses this gesture for a minute before starting it. Then stopping entirely with the sack halfway between retracted and dangling.
I used to think I could maybe like you, but I now know I was mistaken. I mean, you're so full of shit you may as well call yourself Rose Smith's colon, because that bitch was straight up constipated. The truth in all of this is, you wanted me to notice you., and it's just said. You know what you are. You're the dumbass at WalMart who walks around in a Guinness shirt, blasting off your jizz catcher about how much you love Dropkick Murphies and Boondock Saints so people know you're good and proper Irish Pride. Even though you're from Alabama, your last name is French, and your hair is fucking black as hell. You've gotta throw up that Irish Pride, so people know you're honest when you get blasted on Saint Paddy's, of course you have no idea what you're celebrating, but goddammit you need them to notice you. And that's what you do. You run that stupid mouth of yours and hope I'll notice you. Well, Kyle, I noticed you. And boy, are you about to get fucked. Fucked right in the ass by da Gilly Willy. Or, did I Dickgress too much for you? Should I stick to talking about the weather and the traffic? Would that make you more comfortable? Maybe get into trouble at an airport? This is what you expect from Peter, and his dick, right? Well, fuck you. You pussy. Go get fucked. Chuck, call Tracy for this bitch.
Chuck comes over and holds a tiny cell phone up to Willy's head, and he spouts yellow goo all over it. Tracy'll get the memo.
The Willy Stretches out, and allows himself to take in the full extent of the wind. He's been locked away too long. Far too long. His weeks in Mexican Jail were brief to most people. Haha! Brief, underwear humor. WE DICKGRESS! The times wasn't long, but it was hard and rough. Oooh, we can't stop ourselves.
The Gilly Willy spent most of his time there with a fellow by the name of Juan Cinco Quatro. Which doesn't make sense because his name was actually Michael, no idea where the five four part came in, but it did, Dick Dammit! People would come in to offer their cigarettes, and lunch to Juan as an offering to avoid being beaten. If their offering wasn't good enough, Juan would pull Willy out of his pocket, and beat the shit out of them, until they'd stop moving. If they put up too much of a fight, after they went stiff he'd shove Gilly inside of their throats, and hold it there until they gagged and cried. If he was feeling merciful he'd remove it. If not, they'd find a new body in the yard. It was a good system, and Willy rarely got vomit on him. Mostly he'd just shoot his yellow spunk in a lot of Mexican men. It reminded him of his time with Peter.
There was one tradition as well. Juan's men would take Gilly every time someone would really piss them off, and they'd hide him in the person's cell. In the morning, Juan would look for Gilly, and be unable to find him. He'd be furious, until he found his dick. In someone's cell, which would mean that the person would be murdered. Except one time. Juan's men Chico and Hombre hid him inside the cell of an Irish guy named Seamus, who was there "by mistake", and when Juan went to go get revenge for stealing the cock, Seamus was waiting. He had ripped his bed to pieces, and turned it into a weapon. He used the legs of the bed to beat Juan to death, and rammed one of them up Chico's ass. This cemented Seamus as the new king of the Prison, and the new owner of Willy. People literally bowed to him.
What are you thinking of, Willy?
Mexican Jail. And the time I met Seamus McFaggigan O'Hurley Sullivan. Take me home, Chuck. I believe Janice is to bathe me tonight.
Chuck picks up Willy, and places him on the Velvet Pillow once again. They climb aboard a majestic white steed, and ride off into the sunset. Just kidding, they go back to Gilly's Mansion. Or Cardboard Box, you decide.
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