My drive.

People always ask me, they say “Randy, how is it that you drive all the way across Los Angeles in rush hour traffic?” How do you do it? Well the answer is simple, I use my imagination.

For instance, this morning I kept imagining the guy in front of me, who didn’t know where his blinker was, but had to make a phone call, well I imagined his head exploding into a pulpy mess over and over again, and then when I got bored with that, I imagined his head exploding all over his wife and children, and them trying to get the bits of skull and hair out of their eyes, while they screamed.

That one took about fifteen minutes out of my drive.

Then, when I was at a stop sign, and the guy who actually slows down as he walk across the street came by, and looked at me like as if to say, ” You want to fight?”, well, I imagined him on his knees pleading for his life, over and over, and I was urinating on him, and saying ” that’s ok” Trying to get the stream in his mouth, while he cried and shit himself.

That took another five minutes out , and then I added another five minutes liked that one so much.

I would also have to add the fifteen other minutes that I imagined all of the guys who were leaned over in their pimp rides all tuff, listening to rap music, caught in their cars, engulfed in flames, trying to unlock their car doors with melting hands, while I kept locking the doors with a remote.

Some days I just imagine everyone I see running down the street on fire, with my balls on their foreheads until a plane hits them.

Id say the ride is quite pleasant

Your pal Randy

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