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| Prozac, Beef, and Me | Started by: Deadpool on Feb 05, '09 08:48 |
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Alright, here's what went down. The other day, Prozac, my never depressed boss, decides to have a barbeque for all the guys and gals under his protection. It's a big deal, like his daughter's wedding, but with more food and less wedding. He blows a ton of cash on this shin-dig. There's food, booze, and a plethora of pinatas. The night before this is all supposed to go down, he decides to give me a chance at greatness. "'Pool," he says, "you're in charge tonight. Make sure these schmucks get everything ready for tomorrow. Here's the keys." He tosses me the keys and takes off. Like ten minutes later, the caterer comes up to me and asks for the keys so he can get into the freezer to defrost the beef for tomorrow. Why not, right? I give him the keys, he's back like ten minutes later. When all is said and done that night, I go home to sleep. The next morning, I come in and find Diamond_Jim waiting for me, spinning the barrel of his .38 calibur revolver. I say "good morning," and he says, "hear about last night?" "What about last night?" "The caterer took 1000 pounds of beef. All the beef for the cookout." "What the hell? How? Why? When?" "He got the keys somehow and stole the food. Probably to resell. He's gone, we're shit out of luck, 'Pool." Shit out of luck was right. Prozac would have my balls for this one. So, I did the only think I could think of: I ran. About a block away, I began to wonder how I was going to score half a ton of beef before that evening. I could think of only one man that could help me. Hudson Hawk had been retired from thievery for awhile. I approached him and his immediate response was, "'Pool, I told you, I'm retired. I'm out of the game." "1000 pounds of beef, man. Not like it's the Mona Lisa." "Did you say 1000 pounds of beef? That just might be interesting. I'm in. One last score. I had always wanted to get a piece of the meat game, anyway," he finally said. An couple of hours later, we tunnneled up through a floor. "Damn it, Hawk, this is a bank vault! What the hell is wrong with you!" We kept digging. Around noon, we came up through the floor of the butcher shop. "Couldn't we have just used the front door?" Hawk shushed me and crept around to see where the butcher was. He was serving customers. We had enough time to do this, hopefully. I crawled out of the hole and began tossing Hawk different cuts of beef. Steak, steak, steak, hamburger, steak, steak, what the hell are prairie oysters? What the hell, a little seafood wouldn't hurt. Steak, ribs, ribs, ribs, steak, steak, people eat the tongue? "How many pounds is that?" I whispered so no one heard me, except Hawk. "About 50. This is taking too long!" I ran to the freezer. Half a cow. Perfect. I grabbed the massive side of beef and dragged it off the hook, across the floor, and to the hole. The butcher was flirting with this brunette, not my type, but still hottish, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I shoved the half-cow in the hole, kicking and stomping to make it fit, then followed it down. We made it to the party just in time, with a truck full of beef. Ok, actually, the beef wouldn't fit in the hole, we kind of miscalculated the diameter of half a cow. And it was really heavy. So, I left it there, went out the back door, and stole a freezer truck full of beef. And we all ate happily ever after. Except me, Prozac found out and took my keys away. The End. |
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I'm really upset about this story. It bothered me so much, I was compelled to come out here and rant. And I hate the streets. I never come out here to talk about something so silly, but I had to. Because I'm offended. I mean, what kind of ship is Prozac running over there?! Looks away in disgust I can't even look at you. 1000 pounds of beef? All you want to talk about is 1000 pounds of beef? I mean I barbecued up some delicious chicken for that barbecue and not even a single chicken mention? And after all the hard work I had to go through to get that chicken? shudders You think that beef story was good, you should really hear about the chicken and what Deadpool does to a chicken before he kills it. |
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| Reply by: Brick_Pollitt at Feb 05, '09 12:54 | |
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