Three Orgasmic Paragraphs
by El Cid on Jun.22, 2001, under Articles, El Cid
So Pete is a mule eater. I expected as much from such a base, non-epic hero. Hello friends, (that’s hola amigos for my loyal Spanish following back in my home country) El Cid is back again after a long war of attrition in Valencia which eventually was soundly conquered by myself with the assistance of some rather formidable knife-wielding Japanese chefs. It’s beautiful to watch the mastery of these culinary artists as they employ traditional cooking techniques such as “flaming baby chicken” and “shrimp tail CHOP” on the flesh of my enemies. While engaged in this battle to end battles I did not stoop to mule consumption; rather, the chefs served a duel purpose of both devastating the opposition with blinding knife work and preparing me gourmet meals of things such as braised foie gras and octopus gelato. So what came of this you ask? Well, after watching them day after day, an idea for a TV show formed in my mind–a brilliant idea which you know today as “Iron Chef.” That’s right; I’m taking credit for the creation of the show. Don’t ask me questions, motherfucker.
So I work at a restaurant as the appointed random task bitch, but mostly what I do is roll silverware in a corner for five hours. Mine is a mindless, repetitive job that I thought couldn’t get much worse–that is until I walked in to find that the ceiling right above my work space was leaking piss-colored water. Of course they won’t let me move my work elsewhere so I must endure this downpour of quasi-urine all night long. For ten bucks an hour, this kind of annoyance is ridiculous; but for eight dollars an hour, my wage, this is sheer insanity. After leaving work, well saturated with liquid and hate, I decided that a little retribution is in order: since the management allowed me to be soaked with this mystery fluid, I shall allow myself to spray them with copious amounts of commercially bottled deer urine. Then when they walk outside after work they will find, to their infinite chagrin, that they’ve attracted lots of sex hungry male deer. I think that a night of my superiors being gang raped by deer should atone for my pain rather well.
"All night long!"
Speaking of being gang raped by deer, I went to my local 7-11 the other day to buy myself an Icee: the cool, refreshing treat in a variety of great tasting flavors. So I select the 32 ounce value size and after filling my bucket with frozen beverage I discover that the straw is too short! I slapped my hands to my cheeks Macaulay Culkin style, this was indeed a dilemma. Luckily I discovered a covert container containing longer straws which allowed me to correctly drink my Icee. Thanks long straw, you sure saved the day.
