There’s Nothing Worse (Part Two)
Dear Vin Scelsa,
Me and Razoo Kelley figured on it some more and decided there’s nothing worse than when you gotta pee so bad it comes out your eyes, unless urine a crowded movie house in the middle of the row, unless you run for it and miss the best part. Or try to run for it but your foot falls asleep. That’s the worst! Unless itsa itch under your cast. Or mosquitoes – specially when it’s dark and they keep buzzing your ear so you just know your gonna get it. No Vin, there’s nothing worse than premature emasculation, like if your girlfriend yells at you in public for cheating on her, or even worse if your wife finds out, too. Or no, what’s even worse is when your auto-erotic jollies make front page news – in Bangkok offal places – or worse yet you die from it – or still worse you get bumped from the front page obits by a transracial pedophile. Or worse even is premature interination and waking up to the sound of dirt hitting the lid of the coffin urine. Unless it’s premature expectoration as you spit out the car window and it comes right back at you, but that’s not as bad’s a blister on your heel and you’re only halfway home, but worse is premature mastication when you bite into a still-frozen dinner, or worse break your tooth, or worse hafta go tooth a dentist. Unless it’s if you drop the last slice of pizza face down, unless you go for the 5 second rule and later find out it failed. Yeah Vin, there’s nothing worse than the runs. Unless it sin public, and maybe unless you think you’re letting go with a SBD butt instead pop some juice. Yuck, that’s the worst! But nothing’s a bad as getting your nether hairs caught in your zipper. Unless it’s ‘fore your skin! Or unless it’s golf. On TV. Yeah, Vin, there’s nothing worse than that.
Premature Mastication Forever,
me and Razoo Kelley
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