So this is what happens when you leave your computer on at a Lollipop party…
By the Members of Lollipop
(both literally and figuratively, you understand)
illustration by Jef Taylor
Ahhh, nothing prepares the stomach for a night of drunken debauchery like a bag of Chee-tos®. So we’re sitting around talking about… well, I guess a friend of mine (and I use the term loosely, you understand) feels sexually inadequate because he has a small penis. I tried to, ya know, sympathize, but seeing as how I’m monstrously endowed, I kinda had to use my imagination. I guess it’s like when you run outta silverware ’cause you haven’t done dishes in a couple weeks. You have to eat your Corn Flakes® with a teeny spoon in the back. It works and all, it just takes a while.
So I walked into the grocery store, hoping to find some tomatoes and a piece of ass. I waited in the wait-around-to-pay-for-your-shit line and then there was no one else left except for me and the lady at the cash register. She had fake eyebrows (they were drawn on her forehead with a marker or something) and had lived about four decades, which is a lot of time for one human being but not if you think about the universe. The Big Bang Theory. That’s when I banged your mother. You watched. You loved it. I loved it. And from there, the universe began to expand. So I told this lady at the cash register, “Hey, can I fuck you tonight?” She looked at me for a couple of seconds. It might have been longer than that, I don’t know, I wasn’t really there, or at least, all there. So she looked at me and said, “Do you have any coupons?” I looked at her for a little bit and said, “Look, whore, your life sucks, so does mine, so does everyone else’s but some don’t admit it, so why don’t you remove your cash register person’s smock and suck my dick until I come so I won’t feel like my life is completely meaningless.” Cheerios were on sale so it didn’t turn out all bad. In fact, they were free. It’s the best. I’m the best. I tell everyone that but they don’t believe me. And they look at me for a little bit and then go talk to someone else because they’re sick of talking to me. And so am I.
It warms the cockles, or whatever. Are the cockles a male thing, oh sure, it’s bad enough we’re living in a patriarchal society dominated by a lot of unfeeling, violent, unnurturing pigs, but us girls don’t even get to have cockles. I know what you’re thinking – cockle envy. Look, I like peeing sitting down! You hear me?! I love it!
The neck is sweet and full, rich and containing the upperclass values I want to corrupt. I can do this through hard, paradigm shattering truths, or I can do this through soft, seductive tactile counterweights, tearing the fierce boundaries down in all the aspects, casting a spell of “ALLNESS” upon the foolish cows who parade before me.
Don’t we all wish we could be as decadent… Hell, I know I do. Why not? Mornings don’t hurt so much if they start with a blowjob from some high and mighty high-priced hooker who is a direct descendant of Czar Nicholas II and 33 1/3 in line to the Romanov throne.
Wouldn’t be better if we could chose between two hemophiliac bluebloods who come tailor-made with sexual perversions that Rikki Lake could drool over. Think ratings, cos the country’s goin’ so far in the tank that it’s gonna take AquaMan and all of his fuckin’ dolphin and whale and fish buddies to rescue our bullshit. Damn, I’m hungry. I could use something to eat. What’s open at 2:00 am?