Hey, boys and girls! What happens when Uncle Aaron has been too drunk to do research and construct an outline? “Freestyle!” That’s right, you little shitty human beings! We are going to freestyle this bitch! Start up the generator!
Slam Particular.
“Oh, President Washington! I do declare that you have found me wearing nothing but my particulars!” “I can not tell a lie, Miss Pettycoat. So, I would venture that I’m going to slam those particulars right off of your swelling bosom. But first, go make me some Kool-Aid.” Why are panties so unmentionable? AND, when did they become “particulars?” I tried to look it up right now and all I can say about that search is Macy’s has panties on sale. Thanks internet. Though I do enjoy your short films where a young college student suffers an “angry dragon.” I’m just kidding, those girls don’t go to college! All kidding aside, you have to look up “angry dragon!” There is nothing so simultaneously hilarious and depressing. I call it, “The Sick Laughter.” I’ll wait…
Back to this crappy Roundom. It’s crappy because anything can be particular. For example, “I wasn’t raped by the whole gang, but that particular handsome guy.” OR, “Of all the hairs that hang off your balls, that particular follicle has a booger hanging from it.” OR, “I didn’t cum on both her tits, but only on the real one.” There! Did you notice that? I didn’t use the word particular and yet you understood the sentence. Which begs this question. WHY DOES THIS WORD EXIST!!! We already have the word specific! “I specifically remember her and the specifics of her bleached asshole. Down to the specific sore that I first had mistaken for a mole.” That works fine. Or you could just point and grunt. I will just have to guess at what particular you have chosen. Just nod when I point at the specific doughnut you will stick up your fat ass because you just had oral surgery and can’t live without a doughnut inside you. Which I find particularly sad, Officer Stadanko, and now I feel a certain specific particular desire to cut off the front part of my head. The front part because suicidal practices are so predictable. AND, I want to go out in a magical, particular way.
I suppose you could say someone IS particular implying they partake in a very specific existence. Like, “Joe has a particular girl he fancies. Mostly, he likes them to be around twelve. But he will also occasionally date an Asian.” OR, “Don’t touch those figurines! Mohammad has a particular way he likes his Jihad Super Heroes. I think they mostly point to Mecca. Or was it Macon. Georgia, Saudi Arabia, it’s pretty much the same place.” But again, it’s just my wonderful imagination that is keeping this Roundom afloat, because there isn’t any meat in it. Like a ninety year old woman in her particulars. Except for her meatloaf vagina. Which is mostly just breadcrumbs anyway.
What if we flip the words. “Are you ready for the most encroaching, the most pugnacious, the most militant energy drink since liquid napalm! PARTICULAR SLAAAMMM! Slam one of these down and you’re jugular will rupture from just a furrow of your unibrow! Go over the top douche style! PARTICULAR SLAAAMMM! From the makers of Scooby Dew.”
What if this omnipresent word is god like to other words. “…we are all within him and he is within all of us. That was beautiful. All right, congregation, please take a seat. Now I know we all have family members who, shall we say, hang out on the wrong side of the commas. A stray verb. A lost adjective. But I’m here to tell you there is always a way to get back in the good graces with The Particular. I’m sorry, but are those n-words I see down in the audience? Get those n-word bastards out of my church! We all know numbers can’t be saved.”
The truth of the matter is I am losing to this fucking word. How much bullshit can I come up with?!? The scope of such a word is too grand for this simple endeavor. Never have I met a stronger adversary than you, particular. I know I have been slamming you like a giant whore face first into the head post of this virtual bed, but you won’t stop laughing. Or are you crying? I can never tell. Yet, I am still so far away from the word count I have assigned myself. And there you sit, looking over you’re back fat with your sloppy face and your strange noises. I swear it sounds like your laughing. OK, I’ll drop it. Let us kick you off the bed and come up with a noun that is particular in it’s definition. And then we will slam it into submission. Good bye, particular. And fuck you very much.
OK, generator. Stop fucking around!
Slam Contract.
I’d like to take out a contract on “particular.” “Yeah, I’m talking to you, you fucking prick! I don’t want to see your fuckin ass around here ever again or I’m going to break that p right off your body an shove it up your ass! God, I hate that guy.” I just feel like this is cheating. You work so hard at something and you get no reciprocity. I know, I know. But there is something about him I can’t get over. I know he fucked luwonda, but he said he was drunk and that hoe molested him. That triflin’ bitch! If I ever see her around the 99 cent store, I’m gonna bust that bitch in the mouth! Isn’t there anything I can do to get him back? I just feel like I’m to emotional right now to make any intelligent decision. Don’t touch me! I’m not kidding, take your hands off.. I’M NOT KIDDING! THAT’S IT! I’M GOING TO KILL MYSELF! I’M GOING TO CUT OFF THE FRONT OF MY HEAD! And, scene. Thank you, thank you. Oh, that’s very kind. Thank you all very much.
Roundoms! 