festy spiders.

you know i hate 'em.
spiders.
i don't squish 'em,
or get into any of that 'killing tiny things' weak sauce;
i mean,
i'm not an A*-hole, after all.
c'mon...
but i still hate 'em up hard.
i doo-doo that eight-legged freaky sh!t all the time.
it's a little weird, yeah?
i'm sayin',
spindle legs and fat butts aren't usually the object of my ire, y'all.
at all.
but i'm sort of a two-leg upper limit kind of a guy.
so if you're rockin' six more than that?
nuh-uh.
i can't hang out.
and it's only spiders of notable size that make my pee-pants get saturated, too.
...unless they're the really quick kind of spiders.
then, neighbors, it's a warbled warcry to my wife to come rescue me.
no joke.
me and those little dip-darting guys aren't cool with each other.
their spider-sense clearly targets me as prey, or somethin'.
(i don't get it, i've never been considered very fly...oh, come on.)
but now would you guys like to know what makes all my burly barbarism
melt away into a skirt-lifting prissy-prance?
okay,
i'll tell you:
those mutha-b!tchin' quick-jumpie spiders.
oh MAN, they're the worst.
fat, huge, crawlie ones are pretty bad, for sure,
at least those're comparatively slow moving, though.
but those teleporter jammies?
the ones that jump faster than your eyes can follow?
F* all of that noise, ninjas.
i will spray a nervous vomit 360 degree mist globe
in a gypsy thunderstorm of bilious bile surround-sound sorcery.
i'm just not into those little 'uckers.
i'm reminded of this now
because my wife caught a small one last night.
in the bathroom.
and called me in to show me.
that's a hard style, kids.
no me gusta.
after all,
my wiener is exposed and vulnerable most often in that room.
go ahead,
imagine the semi-nude scampering pee-showering escape romp.
it's bound to happen.
rational relative-size reasoning isn't an option.
i think of my beard harboring one of 'em,
and i practically punch my own face right off.
every time.
***********
yesterday was something else.
did i stop into the studio for just a quick second,
to see my wifely hottness and firm up our dinner plans?
yeah. i did.
did i end up doing three little gaysplosive tatty-zippers?
of course.
i can't escape those adult responsibilities.
no fun.
now you know why i'm doing so many sit-ups and push-ups.
i can't help but pull my own weight, y'heard?
so i'm trying to weigh less.
ingenious?
maybe.
did i still drive all day and then work?
yep.
i'll just say it, my worthy warriors;
i loooove those mutha-flippin' movie checks.
G.S.M. y'all-
like s'mores:
Gimme S'Money, mutha-lickers;
never quiet, never soft.....