Life An open letter to Buck

**TinyEvel** · 07-14-2010, 04:35 PM

Dear buck, BuckinKeading, Matt, etc...

I love you Buck. You are like the girl I would kiss and then punch and throw in a well. I mean, I would love to cornhole you and then go full Mel Gibson on your ass via cel phone and text message then post pics of you throwing up in your prom dress on FaceBook, then I would call you the next morning and ask if you'd like to go for waffles and try to get a BJ in the car on the way home.

I love you and hate you at the same time. You are hot but also ugly. You have shitty breath and only one good tit, while the other one with the mole on it is still OK but not really pic-worthy. I will exhaust myself trying to take one-tit pics of you.

I put up with you because I like to keep you around so I can tell my friends you take it up the ass, even though you don't. And on occasion you show up looking pretty good but always end up getting too drunk and embarrassing yourself and I have to take you home and hold your hair while you vomit in the pan my dad drains his Chevy oil in out back behind the garage and I have to ask the nosey neighbors to go back inside their house -- that it's nothing -- just a sick friend who got car sick and whose barf just happens to smell like peach schnapps.

I love the way you snort when you laugh and hate the way you snort when you sleep. I want to buy you something from Victoria Secret catalogue but then throw it in the garbage when it arrives because I don't want you knowing that I am that into you. However I will sniff it and whack off to it before I throw it away. Did I say that out loud?

I want to make you a breakup tape and then play it while I fuck you for two minutes and hold you for 58 minutes. I want to take you to Arby's get an ARBY-Q and two packets of Horsey sauce. When you eat the ARBY-Q I'll make sperm jokes with the horsey sauce, trying to blow it all over your chin (I would also get a Jamoca shake but that has nothing to do with this little game, just that they are awesome and refreshing)

Your pathetic false superiority keeps me coming back for more, kind of like a meth addict who loves an alcoholic. Both flawed in different ways. The blind leading the deaf.

I would write you poetry with misspellings and grammatical errors on the top of a pizza box. I would not recycle but then complain about the BP oil spill. I don't give a fuck about the whales. I do care about the Hoot Owl, only because in some connected way I think it has to do with the longevity of Hooters, which must be preserved at all costs.

I like that you're a fighter and you say what's on your mind. I'd like to keep this going and see where it goes. I just got promoted from assistant night manager to assistant to the night manager. I think I could maybe afford a two-bedroom if my cousin Stu rents the extra room. I can do this.

Let's ride.

07-14-2010, 04:35 PM	Topic Starter
TinyEvel Just a li'l Evel Join Date: Sep 2005 Location: Bald. Goatee. Jorts. Casino cash: $5477131	An open letter to Buck Dear buck, BuckinKeading, Matt, etc... I love you Buck. You are like the girl I would kiss and then punch and throw in a well. I mean, I would love to cornhole you and then go full Mel Gibson on your ass via cel phone and text message then post pics of you throwing up in your prom dress on FaceBook, then I would call you the next morning and ask if you'd like to go for waffles and try to get a BJ in the car on the way home. I love you and hate you at the same time. You are hot but also ugly. You have shitty breath and only one good tit, while the other one with the mole on it is still OK but not really pic-worthy. I will exhaust myself trying to take one-tit pics of you. I put up with you because I like to keep you around so I can tell my friends you take it up the ass, even though you don't. And on occasion you show up looking pretty good but always end up getting too drunk and embarrassing yourself and I have to take you home and hold your hair while you vomit in the pan my dad drains his Chevy oil in out back behind the garage and I have to ask the nosey neighbors to go back inside their house -- that it's nothing -- just a sick friend who got car sick and whose barf just happens to smell like peach schnapps. I love the way you snort when you laugh and hate the way you snort when you sleep. I want to buy you something from Victoria Secret catalogue but then throw it in the garbage when it arrives because I don't want you knowing that I am that into you. However I will sniff it and whack off to it before I throw it away. Did I say that out loud? I want to make you a breakup tape and then play it while I fuck you for two minutes and hold you for 58 minutes. I want to take you to Arby's get an ARBY-Q and two packets of Horsey sauce. When you eat the ARBY-Q I'll make sperm jokes with the horsey sauce, trying to blow it all over your chin (I would also get a Jamoca shake but that has nothing to do with this little game, just that they are awesome and refreshing) Your pathetic false superiority keeps me coming back for more, kind of like a meth addict who loves an alcoholic. Both flawed in different ways. The blind leading the deaf. I would write you poetry with misspellings and grammatical errors on the top of a pizza box. I would not recycle but then complain about the BP oil spill. I don't give a fuck about the whales. I do care about the Hoot Owl, only because in some connected way I think it has to do with the longevity of Hooters, which must be preserved at all costs. I like that you're a fighter and you say what's on your mind. I'd like to keep this going and see where it goes. I just got promoted from assistant night manager to assistant to the night manager. I think I could maybe afford a two-bedroom if my cousin Stu rents the extra room. I can do this. Let's ride.
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