5 Alarm Class Jackin’

Raymondo: So I’m just your dick stickin shit picker varlet, huh?

Madge: What does that mean?

Raymondo: I think it’s fairly obvious.

Madge: That your dick is shaped like a stick? Or is that what you’re made to do with it?

Raymondo: You know very well they’ve got me pickin shit with my dick stick. And shining your father’s shoes. And all that other malarkey.

Madge: I imagine your lack of principles plays into it as well.

Raymondo: Why would you say that?

Madge: You said varlet. If the shoe fits–

Raymondo: Damnit, you attend one nude Keno night and they label you forever.

Madge: I told you not to go. Now put that shoe down and pay attention.

Raymondo: Why? You got a turd you want me to poke at?

Madge: No. I need you to test this chili.

Raymondo: File this under malarkey.

Madge: File it however you want but the can says it’s ass-blaster and I’m not sure I want to risk it.

Raymondo: But Raymondo’s ass is worth blasting, huh?

Madge: Would you rather I had you stick your dick in it?

Raymondo: This is just another in my long list of reasons to go back and finish high school.

Madge: I would suggest that you consider penis widening surgery.

Raymondo: Just pass me the stupid bowl.

Thrusting Into A Deep New World…

“I’m just curious about this item right here. On this list. This item.”
“Which item is that?”
“It’s right here on the list.”
“There’s fourteen thousand things on that list, Commander.”
“I’m aware. But right now my focus is on this item right here.”
“Can you give me the number?”
“It’s item number two.”
“Okay, right–double check tightness of sweatpants comma crotch.”
“Right, so–”
“So what?”
“How tight are the crotches in the sweatpants?”
“Is that important?”
“Are you–are you for real?! Of course it’s important! It’s on the list!”
“Uh, yeah, I guess that raises the question as to why it’s on the list?”
“Because we need to know if they’re ballhuggers or not, damnit!”
“We do?”
“And this is a mission priority?”
“It’s a goddamn mission priority, Lieutenant, it’s a goddamn mission goddamn priority!”
“But Commander, I guess I’m a little uncertain as to why.”
“Because it’s on the goddamn list.”
“I see that. In fact it’s very high on the list. But I don’t quite understand how making sure that the sweatpants issued as mission apparel need to be–”
“Ballhuggers, yes.”
“Umm, that doesn’t clarify anything for me here–”
“These dudes are going to be hot-rodding through the galaxy like a bunch of astro-studs. If their clothing is not overtly sensual–well, damnit son, I don’t even want to go there.”
“You’ve lost me, Commander.”
“The sex, man, I’m talking about the sex.”
“I thought we were talking about the mission checklist.”
“Sometimes, buckaroo, you’ve got to look beyond the mission, look deeper than the list, peer into the inky black velvet of the cosmos and understand that wet nasty jackjohnning is the true objective.”
“You heard me.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Don’t you worry about that. Just be confident that I do.”
“I’d never think to question your authority here.”
“Good man.”
“But, uh, still, umm, if you could clarify something regarding the mission–”
“Ask away.”
“Aren’t these men supposed to be finding a new world for humanity to call home?”
“Yes. But they will also be buttfuckin’ each other. That’s a fact.”
“It is?”
“Absolutely affirmative. And a deep, hard fact at that.”

“To tell the truth, sir, I’m not so sure I’m clear on most of these mission parameters.”

“Just believe, lieutenant, just believe. That’s an order.”

“Yes sir.”
Commander Jenkins stared up at the night sky. It was clear and the Milky Way laid itself out before his eyes like God’s own duvet on the waterbed of the Universe.
He took a deep breath.
This was the very earliest of the beginning of the most truly grand adventure in the brief history of humankind.
He allowed his heart a tiny flutter.
And then he was right back to maximum stern.
“Now. Next item on the list.”
“Right. Item three. Briefs comma bikini.”
“Okay. Let’s get a double check on the leopard print on those.”