Archive for the ‘Short Stories……by Andrew Michaels’ Category

Holy shit man, I have a lot of shit to talk about in regards to bachelor parties, in which the man of the hour gets fucking beat to shit by the strippers…..

First off, this WILL NOT be anything like my eventual bachelor party.  I will not get fucking beat to shit, by a nice smelling female stranger, as my friends watch in extreme laughter…….that is SO fucking far from my cup of tea.

This morning, I awoke to an extensive amount of one dollar bills in my wallet, and yes, all of the bills are facing the same direction, president facing the same direction as well.

So the two dancers that came to the bachelor party, came with a madam of some sorts.  This was the woman who owned the dancers business, and her job was to put the show together, and collect all of the money that is scattered on that dirty, dirty fucking floor.  The dancers DID NOT bring any blanket or tarp to put on this dirty, dirty fucking floor and had no problem being in contact with it……….

But that’s perfectly fine with me, because the integrity, and cleanliness of these two girls never once crossed my mind during their show, even though they did have a way, to sure as hell not smell like the dirty type of girl, that would have no problem rolling around on that dirty, dirty fucking floor.  These dancers must all agree with each other, that loads and fucking loads of nice smelling body lotions, are a female dancer’s best fucking friend.

It’s funny what I caught myself doing in front of this madam, and the eventual conversation which I had with her, as my friend was getting his bare ass beat raw, with a belt, that was taken off an unsuspecting male patron at the party……in fact, I believe these dancers had about 4 belts all held together as they were performing this insane ass whipping.

I went up to the madam because she stated that she had plenty of one dollar bills.  I gave her a twenty dollar bill.  She handed me 20 one dollars bills, but they were all over the place, in the way that they were stacked on top of each other.  Some bills on top were facing each other, then the next three were upside down, the next one was right side up…..but backwards,  the next one was facing the “proper way”, the one after that “proper one” was upside down……so on and so fourth, for the full 20 one dollar bills stack.

My OCD kicked in fucking hard, because as my friend was getting his ass handed to him with multiple belts, I am standing there with the madam, fixing and rearranging all of the one dollar bills so they are all facing the same direction.  I looked up and said to the madam “Look at how pathetic I am, these dancers are beating the shit out of my friend, and here I am making sure, that all of the fucking one dollar bills that I am about to throw on top of them, are having all of the presidents facing the same direction, facing up……..”

The madam laughs as she looks at me and says “You must be the guy, who at his house, has all lines on his carpet, from being freshly vacuumed……. all the time.”  In the background, the dancers whack the shit out of his ass again, the crowd goes vibrantly wild as usual in reaction to this.

I am looking at the madam and I think to myself:

“Bitch….. I don’t have any fucking carpets in my house, and I certainly wouldn’t have any freshly vaccumed carpets with freshly laid lines in my house.  I, for one reason or another, have always felt more comfortable, when my money is all facing the same direction, all while the presidents are all facing the same direction………….EVEN IF, I am about to just drop all of this money on the dancers to ensure this ass whipping is to continue at full force”

In reality I look at the madam and I say:

“Nah dude, I don’t like to clean…..”

I walk away from her and proceed to make it rain…….. 10 whole fucking Washington’s, all on the dancers, I then go up to one of the dancers and say “I want you to beat the fucking shit out of this guy.”  It should be noted that this was not the bachelor, but the bachelor’s good friend, who for one reason or another, was ok with getting really beat up, in front of a large group of people, by two dancers with belts, which were stolen off of unsuspecting male patrons of the party.

The dancers know what the fuck they are doing, in regards to the ass whippings which they give, and I think there is a very primal, instinctive reason, why it  works the way it does.  You see, one dancer lays the male down and unbuttons his pants……….and to any male who is the type that is into dancers, is liking where this is going at this point.

Then the dancer turns the male over, and tries her best to pull down his boxers in order to expose his bare ass, in order to receive an ass whipping of epic proportions.  Once the first hit is made with the belt, the beating has only just begun, but the fight is all over, for the male to be able to function in any rational and normal way.  The reason why this is, is because instead of fighting and struggling with the dancer to keep his boxers at least partially on, he is now holding his bare ass in extreme numbing pain.

This makes it much easier for the dancers to grab his boxers and tear them off him.  As soon as he lets go of his numbing ass check, in order to start back up with the struggle of keeping his underwear at least partially on, the dancer will hit the male again, extremely hard with the belt, in fact harder than the last time.  Once again the crowd goes rampantly wild.

Eventually the male is in so much pain, that he gives up with the boxers struggle, and just allows the dancers to rip his underwear off, since he is just too damn tired, and in too much god damn pain, to give two shits about his boxers.

Moving on……….I picked up on a conspiracy theory that I felt was going on during the event, and only someone like myself would come up with such a random thought, during a bachelor party, while the main entertainment was taking place.

I had been buying vodka and red bulls the whole time we were at the bar, so I figured I have already spent 30 dollars at the bar.  One of our friends, (actually the one who got his boxer shorts ripped off) had a bottle of Captain Jack spiced rum in his trunk.  That’s right, NOT Captain Morgan………NOT Jack Daniels……..but “CAPTAIN JACK – SPICED RUM”.  This tells you the quality right there, with such a blatantly corny rip off name.

REGARDLESS, it was spiced rum, and we all decided that we should all make a strong Captain Jack and coke drink, to either go along with the drinks that we had, or to be the sole drink of some of the individuals (But not me, I prefer to double fist, during events of debauchery……)

We all bought a soda of our choice at the bar, along with a cup full of ice.  I believe that the soda cups are orange colored, and alcoholic drinks are in yellow cups, at least that’s what I saw with my drinks and my buddies.  This only makes sense for the owner, so at any given time when he looks around, he can tell who supposedly is not drinking alcohol, and who is drinking an alcoholic beverage.

We took theses non alcoholic beverage orange colored cups out to the parking lot and proceeded to make strong Captain Jack and coke drinks for all four of us.  As we are hanging out at the car, a dude approaches us and says,  “I can’t be having you guys doing that here” (obviously this is the owner, but before this moment, everyone in our group just assumed he was just a patron of the party…)

I look to him and say “I am sorry man, I will dump it out if you want…….”  He looks at me and says “Don’t dump it out, but don’t do it anymore please”. We all agree to this and he walks away…………eventually we head back into the party too.

So the four of us walked in, and he saw all of us with non-alcoholic cups, filled to the brim with extremely strong Captain Jack and cokes.  We all decide to stand in the background, as we are waiting for the event to begin, and I let the group know that I need to leave them, to take a leak.

I come back, and they all say that the owner was giving all of them dirty, bad fucking looks.  (Like he was extremely pissed off that we were in his bar, with drinks we obviously didn’t pay his business to have)

I look to my friends and say “You guys are fucking idiots, and overreacting for sure”………..The dancers come out and start to do their thing.  We decide to all take a seat to watch the dancers do their thing.  One  dancer comes over to one of my buddies and does her thing, so he puts his orange non alcoholic colored cup (which is filled to the brim with a strong Captain Jack and coke) under his seat.  The dancer is continuing to do her thing, and she knocks over his drink under his seat, while she is doing her thing.

The dancer then goes to one of my other buddy’s seat, and starts to do her thing yet again, and while she is busy doing her thing, he thinks to himself, that its best to put his non alcohol colored cup (which is also filled to the brim with a strong Captain Jack and coke), on the ground, so the dancer can freely do her thing, and the drink will be out of the way.  As this dancer is doing her thing, she knocks over his non alcohol colored cup as well, spilling it all over the ground.

This was the second drink out of the 4 illegally made drinks, that ended up not being drunk in a compounds of a business, that did not sell us the Captain Jack and cokes (not that I expected this bar to have  Captain Jack in stock).

It was at this point I realized that we were in the middle of a conspiracy theory.

The groups or parties of this conspiracy were as follows:

I feel that the owner of the business, and the dancers who frequently work at the business, were working against us (who were not paying the owner of the business, for our Captain Jack and cokes, that we were drinking).  I felt 100 percent sure that the owner told the dancers, to knock over ANY cups that were non alcoholic colored (orange).

Worst case scenario, it is just soda in it, and the male patron wouldn’t be bummed out by the spill, because he could easily just go to the bar and buy another soda for a dollar and change………BUT BEST CASE SCENARIO, it is a Captain Jack and coke drink, in the non alcohol colored cup, and the male patron will have to go to the bar and buy a new mixed drink (from the business this time, instead of from the trunk of my friend’s car).

Luckily I noticed this conspiracy theory as soon as the second non alcoholic cup was knocked over.  I told the dancer that “I was on to her……”  I don’t know how she interpreted that comment, seeing as this conspiracy theory was more than likely just a figment of my imagination.  But maybe I really was on to her…….and she was blown away by my Sherlock like detective work……..(On a side note, have you seen that fucking movie yet?  Sherlock Holmes is the FUCKING SHIT…..rent or buy that movie immediately.  Robert Downy Jr.  is SO fucking on, in that movie…….)

I must admit that I am not the type of guy who personally gets all involved into the whole dancer thing at a bachelor party.  I am the type of friend who has no problem giving money to the cause while it is happening for my friends, but I really don’t give a shit about one of these dancers doing anything for me.

So, after making it rain Washington’s……multiple times for my friends, a dancer came over to me.  She gave me a purple nurple, because my friend told her to do so.  I looked at her and said

“Listen, I am really not into you giving me a nipple rip, how about…… you don’t pull that shit again?”, she giggled and proceeded to sit on my lap, so I said to her:

“I have some keys in one pocket, and my cell phone in my other pocket (which has some sharp edges), so be careful, its probably going to be pretty fucking uncomfortable sitting on me”  She laughs again, and I say:

“And listen honey, don’t even think for a fucking second, that you are going to whip the shit out of me with that belt, I am WAY too chill, to find anything remotely entertaining, in that degrading and painful activity……”

She proceeded to laugh, and asked me if I was a pothead………

Later I got up and was walking towards a friend and the other fucking dancer, whipped my back leg………I looked at her and said:

“You just didn’t fucking do that…..”

How the fuck is a dancer supposed to react towards such an anal retentive response, after she whips someone?  That’s right, the dude who was giving the strippers the most money out of practically everyone, did not want any part in getting hit with that fucking belt, and I let her know it.  I must say that I have become quite assertive in my life with female dancers, and I must think that it is all in part because of me growing up, into a mature adult.

I tell the dancers, how it is these days………….I truly communicate with them, and let them know what I am definitely “not kosher with”.

Because of this recently acquired assertiveness, which I have obtained in regards towards female dancers, she choose not whip me again, as I walked away with my non alcoholic cup (orange), which was half filled with Captain Jack and coke, because I MADE SURE, that they didn’t have a mother fucking chance to knock over my cup, and to continue on with and succeed in their master plan to knock over all of the illegally made Captain Jack and Cokes………

Score:

Andrew Michaels…….ONE       — –        Dancers/Business owner….. ZERO

…….your move mother fuckers, but just remember…..I am a fucking winner.

This is what Andrew Michaels is doing now……..

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If you are not watching the new series “Life”, you should do yourself a favor and start to.  This is for all intensive puposes a sequel to the wonderful epic series “Planet Earth”.

There was this male hippo that wanted to enter a lake that was filled with a bunch of other hippos.  This lake was a male hippo’s dream seeing as it was absolutely filled to the brim with female hippos, and no males in sight, and get this…….ALL THE FEMALE HIPPOS WERE 100 PERCENT NAKED.

Unfortunatley for the male hippo, the lake was owned by ONE dominant male hippo, and all the females were for his taking, seeing as he was fucking huge, and it only seems fair that the biggest strongest male hippo should be able to bang all the good looking naked female hippos.

The smaller male entered the lake with hopes to get laid, and was immediately entered into a male dominance battle which he quickly lost, and was forced to leave the lake until mating season next year.   Another year of not getting laid for the less dominant male hippo…………..sigh.  It then showed the hippo walking away from the lake filled with all the hot naked female hippos.

The walk of fucking shame

I felt a depression for this less dominant male hippo……. as I watched it walking away from all the ladies. It probably was feeling depressed, inadequate, and desolate as it went into another year of solitude, and lack of sex.

I thought to myself a series of four thoughts in this exact order:

  • “I wish I was there for him in his time of severe sadness,  I would tell him that everything is going to be alright”………..
  • “I wish that I also had a shit load of money”……………..
  • “I wish that I also had shit load of coke, on top of having a shit load of money”……………….

and finally that

  • “I would get this less dominant male hippo laid ALL THE FUCKING TIME……. no problem……… even if he lost every god damn male dominance battle for the rest of his life, because who the fuck really gives a shit about your attractiveness or size, if you have endless supplies of money and coke?”

The naked lady hippos would flock to him and his envious lifestyle of excess in his own lake of luxury…….I would show him the life he always dreamed of living……..

But one day, the money would run out and then the last bump of coke would be snorted.  When this happens the women will leave him for the more desirable lay………the one that makes sense, since there is an actual attraction, and not just a lowered set of standards from the females, which they put up with because of the less dominant male hippo’s possessions………

So to battle this and prevent such an awful thing from happening to my less dominant male hippo, we would need to make sure to get a good financial adviser, so that this hippo’s portfolio stays strong enough, and his coke supply stays high enough, for the female hippos to continue to disregard how undesirable he is…….

But I like the little guy regardless of not being the most desirable male hippo……………. The money, coke, and ladies never went to his head, and he never became a douchebag because of it.  He knew where he came from in his humble beginnings, and allowed other less dominant male hippo friends to enter the lake and live the good life with him as well, because there was an endless supply of money with our good financial adviser, which meant that there was also an endless supply of  coke, and the naked female hippos were not going anywhere if the supply in both was high.

Being a fairly smart hippo, he knew that he had to keep everyone happy in order to continue living this lifestyle, so he hired all of the DOMINANT male hippos to work as bouncers to sit at the edge of the lake.  Their primary objective was to keep douchebags who constantly display their male dominance, like themselves……. out of the party.  Seeing as all the dominant males were hired, they didn’t have to work too hard, since there was no one else to keep out.

The dominant male hippos became happy with their easy job, constant eye candy, and the good tips from the less dominant male hippos who have the money.   Now that they are making a decent living, they have the ability to occasionally get laid as well, since not all females are into money and coke, but are at least looking for a male with some degree of having his shit semi-together. A male hippo having  a place of his own, a job, a ride, and some sense of a future, can all be desirable to the occasional female hippo.  But the bouncers might have to settle for some of the less than hot female hippos.

Primarily, the female hippos that ARE NOT into the coke and money………….. also do not like sitting beside the lake naked and bathing in the sun, like the female hippos that ARE into the coke and money.

This is because the female hippos that ARE NOT into the coke and money, ARE INTO eating food all the time, and are “Average sized” from this instinctive hunger that is seemingly insatiable to them…………….. so its obvious that these female hippos have some body issues that they are dealing with, when they look upon, and are constantly being compared to the skinny female hippos that are blowing a ridiculous amount of lines for lunch and dinner, all while keeping that slim figure with seemingly no effort at all……..

This is What Andrew Michaels is Doing Now…………..If you ever want to really fuck with nature, all you have to do is introduce money and coke into the equation.

I want to get married someday, I know I want to have kids……. someday.  I understand that marriage and family is what you make and put into it.  I have many friends who are married, and quite a few who have kids.  I feel that all my friends who are married with children,  understand my dark nature when it comes to humor and won’t be remotely offended by this story, and besides, they have like 10 years before this scenario would even be possible anyways.  Notice all of these disclaimers, it might mean that I have a feeling that this piece of work may not be everyone’s cup of tea……..so if you are offended, I guess it just really sucks pretty hard to be you.

That being said I hope you enjoy my diabolical short story today.  I would like to thank Kristi, Kristin, and Andrew for listening to the very early stages of  this short story during casual conversation at Shannon’s party last Saturday.  I sometimes question my friends on whether I am trapping them with my conversations and they can’t seem to escape or sometimes even speak, because I have a lot to say…….thankfully I am still told that this is not the case.

The title of this story is:

“Boys, put down your silverware……”

(It takes place at the dinner table.)


“Boys, put down your silverware, and listen, there are a lot of things I have to say….. Your mother and I are getting a divorce.  We want you to know that we love you both very much, and that it is not your fault that we are getting a divorce, but in all actuality……………………it kind of is your fault.

You see, before we had you two wonderful children, it was just me and your mother…………….. and the ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD at our hands for the taking.

We liked to go out with friends.  We used to go out, get totally wasted, do idiotic things, AND seemingly not get injured……. Or at least we got injured much less often than the theoretical rate of injury one might assume that one should have gotten injured, based on our behaviors we exhibited on a daily basis.

We used to make each other laugh because our sense of humors were still intact before you drained them from us…….now our only form of humor is talking about something funny that you or your brother did.  ACTUAL funny shit……….that people really do find humorous, was thrown out the fucking door the day you two arrived.

We used to go on GOOD vacations.  We used to get GOOD uninterrupted sleep.  We used to have all this money to recklessly spend on things that were totally unnecessary but entertaining and enjoyable.  We used to not care if the pets caught us having sex, but when you two came along, you made the idea of getting laid in our own house nearly impossible.  You two sleeping over your friends house, was a god blessing for me, since I knew that if I brought up to your mother the possibility of having sex that evening, I had a one in ten chance of getting laid.

Your mother never used to complain about her body before she had the both of you.  Now she complains about it all the fucking time ……..and for good reason son, her entire outfit now acts like a full body bra that is holding EVERYTHING up, while at the same time, its slowly strangling her entire body to death, much like an anaconda’s favorite killing method of its prey before it swallows it whole.

When you used to feel the house shake sometimes, and would ask me what that was, I would always say that it was the train going by the house.  When you got older and I continued using this excuse, you started to respond with,  “But daddy, there are no train tracks near our house”.   I would then act like I did not hear your response, each and every time, until you decided that you would rather be playing with your toys, then to try and figure out why your father would just sit there and not respond to your clear and obvious response, regarding the lack of train tracks in the general vicinity to that of which we call “home”.

I am telling you now that when your mother takes off her clothing, a rather large mass of her body is now immediately affected by gravity due to this sudden lack of full body support, and it all rushes towards the center of the earth spontaneously.  This shock wave of force is what has been shaking the house all these years.   So when you learn about gravity in high school, you can share with the class and your teacher, your mother’s story regarding gravity and how all those years you actually thought that it was a train.  Hilarity will ensue in the class, and some girl in the class will undoubtedly think that you are funny.  You will probably lose your virginity to her,  since you left this good laughing first impression on her in science class.  You see son, people who are genuinely funny, will never have a problem getting laid, never forget that……..(WHISPER) never forget that…..son (WHISPER)

I must say over the years , every time your mother speaks about her body in frustration, its the ONLY TIME that she uses declarative statements, and doesn’t sound ridiculously stupid.  This is primarily because in those moments of her vocal display of her low self worth and her low self body view, she usually stated things which were true and undeniable.  Progressively over the years, she would say:

  1. “My fat just bulges over the top of my favorite jeans, and they are getting too tight”
  2. “I can’t even sit comfortably in my favorite jeans anymore”
  3. “I can’t even come close to buttoning these anymore, never mind being uncomfortable in them anymore”
  4. I look like absolute shit….

Its funny though, son……Every once in a really great while, your mother shows me that she actually has some intellectual thinking capabilities wandering around in her head, because she takes the “I look like absolute shit” declarative statement, and mixes it up with some interrogative qualities.  A perfect example is when she says:

  1. “I look like absolute shit, how did I let myself get to this point?”

Please understand though, that these instances are even more rare, then the already rare instances of her not sounding retarded from her declarative statements.

Once she said:

  1. “I absolutely love these new jeans I bought, they just fit my body so much better”

Yes son, that’s right,  your mother just took the plunge of death, into a life which involved  “mom jeans”, and until my recent good fortune regarding this divorce, I thought I was going to have to deal with your mother wearing those awful jeans for many, many, years to come…….Maybe you will understand when you are a little bit older, how awful it is to look at your significant other, while she it wearing mom jeans, all while you are trying your best to not make a face of extreme distaste towards her ferociously awful appearance in those jeans.  I do not even like to read the newspaper, but many times I would pretend to read it, just so I could hide my facial expressions behind the newspaper as I held it up.

Whenever you saw me sitting in the back porch, with a beer in my hand held against the side of my head, staring at the ceiling, you would come over and say “Daddy, what are you doing?”  I would always say,”Oh nothing, champ, what are you doing?”……Right at that point I effectively got your mind off of me and made it about you.  Now, maybe you have an idea of what I was actually doing…….More than likely, moments before I was in the porch, with a beer held against my head, staring at the ceiling, I probably saw your mother in those awful, awful jeans.  Although there was not too much going on with that porch ceiling, other than counting how many ceiling tiles there were, 75 if you were wondering, it sure as hell beat looking at your mom, in those fucking mom jeans.

I am not saying that you are the reason for our arguments, for that I blame your mother 100 percent.  I would never blame the two of you for our arguments.  You two were just the “gasoline” that was thrown onto the already burning fire.  Or maybe you two were the “spark” that started the fire in our house, and had we really wanted to,  we could have probably easily put out the fire by throwing water on it, but instead we just chose to watch our house burn down, in the safety of us all viewing it from across the street.

You accelerated us. Our lack of sleep, money, time, privacy, and sex are not solely to blame from your existence, but you definitely played a pivotal role in it, and I honestly thank you for that, son, I am truly grateful for this.

Our arguments have become a little bit meaner in nature, with each fight that we have had since you two have been born.  Over the last ten years we have grown a sincere desire to not want to talk each other ever again.  I would be an asshole of a father, by lying to you, and saying that it wasn’t at least partially your fault………but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you, we really do.

But don’t cry,  we more than likely would have eventually grown to dislike each other anyways.  You helped us realize that we can’t stand each other anymore, and had it not been for you two, who knows?……..maybe we would have stayed together for another five years before we realized that we were wasting our time in life with someone that we have an extreme distaste for.

So guys…….honestly……….Who’s ready for dessert??????

We have popsicles, ice cream, and I think we have some leftover key lime pie in the fridge………..no one??? Seriously guys?  You guys love dessert…….. Whats the matter, did you eat your dinner too fast?  Maybe you just need to burp,  sometimes you will be amazed at how much more space you can make in your stomach with a good belch.  This one time when I was in high school, my friends and I went to a buffet, and the food was so good that I went into the bathroom and vomited on purpose, in order to get another plate. Seriously guys…… no dessert for ANYONE?”

This is What Andrew Michaels is doing now…….