Trashcan Turf


Today as I was driving along in Funkytown (aka ghetto Dallas, aka the Stone Cold 'Hood) (ok none of that made sense to me either, but I am delirious with fatigue, cut me a break here, it was the first effin' day of skizzy today) I saw a trash receptacle similar to the one pictured at left.

A plasti-receptacle which is dumped by a large truck, spilling its discarded and/or decaying contents upon a mountain of like refuse, which is then carted away to dump parts unknown.

At the bottom of this receptacle or any one like it there ferments a stinky soup of pulpy tomatoes, poopy diapers, used cat litter, rotting vegetable peels, rusting cans, clipped toenails, toilet paper people have wiped their asses/noses on and possibly even worn out marital aids.

Still, some hardcore gangsta wanted in on the smelly, sticky ground floor of this virgin turf, yo.

Hence, I saw this:

Yep. This trashcan is MINE. Don't even try any weakass shit talkin' 'bout stealin' this Oscar the Grouch mo-fucker.... we will SMOKE you wit' a quickness.

Word.



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"I no punk bitch!" -- The only funny line in that Rush Hour movie


Comments

Lance Manion said…
You best be strapped if you wanna step to tha Rubbahmaid Krew!

Products designed to organize life, delight consumers, and ease household chores. Represent!
5:48 PM
V said…
Very, very silly, Goddess.

Don't forget to burp it when you're through, Lance.
10:15 PM
Azathoth100 said…
Heh. I do claim the tash recepticle, here I alone shall place my crap. None shall remove my garbage least I shall "Throw Down on thier a**!"
10:59 PM
Amandarama said…
Trash recepticles...want...to be free...
8:02 PM
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