DAILY SHOWER CLEANER

(An old personal favorite...enjoy)

Sometimes, at the end of a long day I like to unwind with a hot bath and a good book, and today was no exception. Soaking in the steam I looked up for a moment and saw the bottle of shower cleaner in front of me. Why I chose to stop reading and look up may always remain a mystery, but what I discovered changed my life...


"Limpiador Diario de Duchas."

Limpiador diario de duchas? Damn, that is tough. I can't imagine what it must be like to be a Toreador with an erectile dysfunction problem, a case of the constant runs and a most unfortunate knick name! I just couldn't stop wondering, what a day in the life of Limpeador, The Diarrhea Douche was like? Clearly he would be known as Limpeador, The Diarrhea Douche, Avenger of the Night because...well...because all fictitious characters of mine become Avengers of the Night. I have a fascination with questionable justice and revenge that happens after the sun goes down. Sometimes I like vengeance that is swift and terrible – but then again, once in a while I like to serve that plate ice cold.


Limpeador was working in Spain, taunting large hoofed beasts with the cock of his head, his fancy golden knickers and red cape. In those days (the olden days, to be precise) Limpeador was known only as Toreador Quincy. And before you ask, no, he was not a mystery solving doctor. That was just his last name.
 
Upon moving back to the states, Quincy lost sight of his healthy lifestyle and gained some weight, stopped working out, and grew a nice little beer belly. Being so active dodging bulls kept him virile, but laying on the couch with a cold beer makes a man...well...soft. In more ways than one...


This really didn't have to be anyone else's information, but Quincy isn't the best housekeeper, and he left his 'prescription' on the coffee table when his friends came over one fateful evening. Johnson wasn't about to let that go. "What's this, Quince? Dick Pills? You taking dick pills?" It would seem Quincy was having trouble with both Johnson AND his ‘Johnson.’

"Screw you, Johnson! Screw you! I've led the life of a real man! I've been a Toreador! What have you done? The furthest you've been from home is Cleveland!"

Johnson just laughed and said, "You're right, you've got me beat, Limpeador."


Quincy then proceeded to tell Johnson he was not welcome to help himself to the kegerator for the rest of the day, and Johnson called him a douche bag and left to go over to Smitty's for the rest of the game.


Naturally, Limpeador found himself angry and dissatisfied. He knew damn well that Johnson would tell Smitty about the incident and their weekly outing at their local chain-wing purveyor was not going to go so well...he needed to get back at Johnson. Enter: Vengence. Our hero now has purpose. Not manly purpose, mind you. I mean, he has erectile dysfunction and he's only 35! What a loser!
 
Limpeador had been consuming a fair quantity of gin-related drinks that week, trying to drown his sorrows and become intoxicated enough to come up with a nefarious and maniacal plan that a sober Quincy would never consider! One thing Limpy didn't take in to consideration - gin was known to give him 'the runs'...but a man possessed is a man that won't listen to his bowels. Strutting in to meet up with The Guys, Limpeador stopped at the bar to shoot a few back, just to get his liquid courage. He'd be ready for Johnson.


"Hey guys! Here comes, Mister-You-Can't-Have-My-Beer-If-YOUR-Dick-Works. How's Spain, Limpeador?" Johnson laughed and elbowed Smitty, who pointed the top of his beer bottle at him and said, "Sit down and watch the game, douche bag."

Limpeador only said, "I didn't come here to watch the game, I came for my vengeance."

However, vengeance didn't come this day. You see, Limpeador crapped himself. Nerves combined with a week-long bender turned what Limpeador thought to be a simple breaking of wind into a something far, far worse.
 
As several choruses of 'diarrhea cha-cha-cha' were heard echoing through the establishment (some people claim it to be gross, but it‘s really great on toast!), Limpeador dashed out of the dining area and out into the night...


The night...When it's dark, no one can see your trousers...

Limpeador became a pretty sick bastard after that day. He dug up Johnson's dead mother and left her middle finger on Johnson's door step as a sick and most twisted flip of the bird. He left a note that said, "Lady Bird Johnson...Cha-Cha-Cha...Who's limp now?" and hid in the bushes to see the look on Johnson's face as he realized that someone had desecrated his mother's grave.

Then he soiled himself and dashed off in to the night. What a douche bag.

NOT GIVING UP, JUST MOVING ON

If you're still following this blog, you have very low standards.  I haven't posted on here in ages, and actually removed most of the content.

Why?

I was trying to publish some of my musings.  I had the delusions of grandeur that most people get when someone says, "dude, the shit you write is hilarious.  I'd read a book of that."  Well, I thought more people would agree with you.

The biggest critque I received was, "you need a clear point of view."  And you know what, I have to agree with that - I was definitely lacking a clear point of view.  I mean, I'm no David Sedaris, but I could hang with the likes of Jen Lancaster for crying out loud.

So, I'm not giving up, but I will try to make my next cohesive effort more...COHESIVE.  The works I submitted before were too scattered.  Funny?  Of course, don't ask such a silly question.  But were they all from the same point of view?  Hardly.

To sum up: I have edited some previous works, and I am going to post some material that I am not going to submit for further consideration, but deserves to be enjoyed.

And, to further sum up: in the weeks ahead, I'm going to start writing more again and posting here (my little testing ground)

You're welcome!