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Dick, Dedication, and the American Dream


Roanoke, Va.–This girl I liked when we were in ninth grade was really cute and had pretty green eyes. I told her one day as we were walking to the buses and she said ‘thank you.’ I never thought another thing of it because chasing tail, I decided, wasn’t my thing at that age. I still liked cartoons and videogames way too much to give all my energy to a time-vacuum like a girl and her problems.

Six years later, she came over to my close, personal friend’s house seeking heroin. Evidently, she’d found a boyfriend who uses heroin, and she herself got addicted so they could enjoy the drug together. What dedication! I can only imagine how poisonous their relationship together is. If you’ve ever seen Requiem For A Dream, you know what I’m talking about. Obviously, not every chemical romance is like that, but the movie is a very accurate depiction of how many of these kinds of relationships work out.

Now, I have a long-term girlfriend but she is not a painful soul-vacuum, nor does she any heroin – or any hard drug, for that matter. There’s a better way to keep a woman around without addicting her to a fatal drug, or so I like to think. I’d say that I’ve struck an almost psychologically unheard-of balance in which I get to be myself and happy with a woman at the same time. I get to play my videogames and have great sex, too. What’s more, I get to spend any or all of my time at the aforementioned best friend’s house on Bent Mountain because my girlfriend is not a succubus time-hog whose permission is required to fart.

Sometimes I go to my friend’s house and we just play videogames and talk about the latest Elf Wax and how epic it will be when the mainstream media bows to its superiority as the earth shatters under the weight of the resulting irony. Other times are spent watching as drunk, worthless chicks file in and out during the occasional party. It doesn’t happen often, because there’s always an active XBOX 360 in the room – a natural female repellent. But it still happens.

The other night, a girl came in and proclaimed, “I’ll get wasted tonight. I wanna get drunk and make a mistake. A mistake that makes babies.” I hadn’t noticed her until she said this. To me, women at parties are usually inconsequential, serving their benign purpose of making the men talk louder in their presence and nothing more. Also, they are good for starting fights, and beyond that, you’re lucky to bang one and forget about it. You never date these girls. This particular girl was your typical party slut. Kind of chubby because she is too dim to recognize a correlation between McDonald’s, beer, and her faltering appearance. Kind of slutty because the fatter a girl gets, the easier she has to be in order to compensate for her decline in received sexual attention.

So to what I thought was actually the fabled tongue-in-cheek wit coming out of a girl’s mouth, I yelled out, “Yeah, pregnancy, alright!” Nobody laughed. I guess (with good reason) they took her very seriously and the chase was on. Or perhaps they didn’t hear me, because it was funny and the way I said it was funny too, and nothing that leaves my mouth is short of genius. Regardless, I never took my eyes away from Nazi Zombies, at which I was brutally kicking the asses of the undead Wehrmacht.

Around me, cheap beers turned into cheap shots, and this girl got wasted, just like she said she’d do. Much unlike a woman, she stuck to her word, however I was still unimpressed because she hadn’t yet made any mistakes, aside from tipping the bong in the wrong direction and spilling filthy, stinking bong water into the couch cushions. I saw it. It was yellow coming out. Very old, putrid water. Not one oxygen molecule to be found in it. It stunk and made her stink because she’d also spilled it on her clothes. How gross.

The party continued. She flirted with the Brosephs and loved their ability to put unbroken sentences together (when college guys feel intellectually dominant, they like to talk in a loud, reverse-Seinfeld tonality). She revealed her true stupidity when she asked, “Where are you from?”

“They’re from a college, honey. Not a different state. Just not the Food Lion you work at.” My thoughts were growing cynical. It was time to play some killer jams. Oops, no good. The Brosephs took over tha party, bro. They’ve been in there tuning up for two and a half god damn hours and the drummer’s still sitting there twiddling his balls around. You gotta wait, bro. Bro. Dude. Gotta wait. “Get out of my god damn way and let a real musician play you fucking Modest Mouse-imitating honkies with your lame fail-minor chords and shit-eating cock-bang-the-drum-rhythms.” Rather than say this, I thought it, and chose to wait outside patiently by the campfire. The girl was there.

After begging everyone present at the party to take shots with her, one at a time, she still couldn’t bait an erection out of even the drunkest men, with the lowest standards. She had begun to embarrass herself by moving person to person, sitting in their laps and seeing if it took. Even after some very obvious lines of questioning, that went from, “I’m tired, I want to go to bed,” to, “I’m going to bed now,” to, “Do you like holding me?” to, “You want to come to bed with me?” she was having trouble getting results.

This worked on one guy. I knew his name because he played Nazi Zombies with me earlier and we shared victory. We got to level eleven together which had yet to be seen on this particular night, and so it felt good. He had originally showed up with a twenty-four pack of Bud Light, so he was drunk and getting drunker.

Sitting by the campfire and watching this pitiful scene between them in which she sat on his lap and he expressed his enjoyment of it, I thought, “This is it. She’s going to finally get fucked like the whore she is on one of those filthy beds in the back room. Won’t that be a pleasant Roanoke memory?”

Then, something interesting happened. He started playing hard to get. Not too hard, because I could tell he still planned to do something with her, if it was really going to be this easy, but he wanted to do it his own way, not hers. What he started doing was saying really funny shit to her, like “Sure, I’ll take you home, but you won’t like where home is,” and then he said something along the lines of, “That should correct your mistake.”

At this, the girl began crying. She’d already done this off and on throughout the night when no one would pay any attention to her. Still sitting on this guy’s lap, she looked around the campfire at a circle of unfamiliar faces, lastly at mine, then turned to the only other girl present, her friend who she showed up with, and begged her to call some one and have her come pick them up.

Almost simultaneously, a bearded man appeared in the doorway of the house – a violent drunk who’d passed out early but knew this girl personally. He approached her with two gallant strides across the yard, asking her, “Do you want me to make you feel really good?” Her eyes melted from personal ownership to childish submission as he took her around the side of the house, where the two were not seen again for at least an hour. The girl disappeared. Chris, my Call of Duty partner, said nothing. Simply opened another beer and enjoyed the company of friends, as he’d been doing before the girl materialized in his lap.

The party was over. I went to sleep and woke up sick. Sick, because I smoked from the same bong as that filthy petri-dish of a girl from the middle of the state. Some unknown, unnamed hick town smaller than this one. The only kind of place capable of producing a dispirited character so familiarly squalid and lacking of common sense or decency. A desperate fat sow whose social success hangs on her ability to fuck someone new at every alcoholic gathering. The product of boredom due to excess. Of a lesson learned in which doing nothing equals doing something as long as a dick still penetrates her at the end of the night.

Hers was a life that led her to pouting her ass around, like a cat in heat, for the first burred penis whose instincts could safely guide it into the dark hole at the end of the tunnel-vision. First shaking it in front of this lap, and then that one, and another one only to be swept up by a surprise male she didn’t expect. But it makes no difference anyway, because she’s chosen the life of a vapid, disease-ridden drunk whore with no inspired future and ugly, meaningless friends, yet retains the ability to carry around a false sense of daytime dignity because she attends a community college somewhere.

A girl who has everything and gets nothing out of it. Has nothing good to say but is feverishly pounding texts out of her cell phone. Knows nothing even though she has the Internet, because she only uses it for Facebook and MySpace.

A girl who will never find this highly-detailed account of her actions, even though I wrote elfwax.com down on a slip of paper and threw it into her purse when she wasn’t looking.

God Bless America. And God Bless The Elf Wax Times.

Categories
News Politics Uncontrollable Patriotism World

AL QAEDA LEADER IN IRAQ NOT CAPTURED

On an unrelated note, the War will continue.The man suspected to be the Al Qaeda leader in Iraq was found snoozing in a house in the Northern city of Mosul. The man confessed to being the owner of the long, unpronounceable name shown above but the military has yet to confirm whether or not he’s a lying sack of shit. There’s a chance that these men are trained to lie about their rank in order to throw off our forces, but that’s why they’re working on figuring out exactly who he is. There is a bounty on his head for $5 million so if they wanted to save time figuring out whether or not he’s the man, a guard could check on him periodically from outside the cage to see if there is shit all down the backs of his legs.More as this story develops.

Elf Wax Update [Editor’s Edition]: I was right.

BAGHDAD — “We can confirm that we do not have al-Masri in custody,”Major Peggy Kageleiry,U.S.forces spokeswoman said today in an e-mail.Yes, that’s right, she sent out an e-mail.Sources say it was sent through the popular social networking site, MySpace, a Rupert Murdoch company.

You heard it yourselves.The $5 million man was not caught yesterday and what’s more is that U.S. forces believe he may have already been killed – twice – in the last two years, first during a raid on al-Anbar in October 2006 and later in the town of Taji on May 1, 2007 so it should come as no surprise, then, that they thought he was captured yesterday.Elf Wax Times Military Analcyst Harry Woodcock estimates that al-Masri will be “bombed, exploded, shot three times, and re-captured twice before 2010,” but Woodcock then warned that the man will remain “at large”.Military officials hail al-Masri’s resilience as “commendable” and are elevating him to the legendary status of Terror itself (the entity at whichAmericais indefinitely at war).In an Elf Waxclusive Interview, Major Kageleiry baldly stated:

“Despite being killed twice and now captured, al-Masri is still out there, like Terror, a creepin’ and a crawlin’, and a lurkin’ through Google Earth to learn the street patterns of America’s homeland subdivisions, so that Charlie may more effectively bring this War on Terror—I mean Freedom—no wait, I mean Terror, yeah, into your own back yard.You’re gonna edit that out, right?We’ll PATRIOT Act your ass!”

Until every terrorist leader, subordinate and grunt who may succeed his slaughtered Commanding Officer is eradicated, the War will continue unabated, or until someone realizes that shooting into the darkness at Specters is a waste of time, energy, morale and resources, and not to mention a failure in the application of logic to the art of war.It makes a country look pretty fucking dumb when it loses to itself in a war against nobody, standing out in the desert, swatting at invisible enemies before finally falling on its ass like a helpless drunk.But don’t blame the soldiers, those tough motherfuckers can’t help that their leaders are guided by tunnel-vision and fluked reasoning.Still, history has shown us that even a moron can successfully engage in war.Only a true fool, then, could take the most powerful military in the world and with it, break its master nation, the homeland, down into a nervously bumbling, on-edge State ofFearand Loathing.

This son of a bitching fuck-up in hasty judgment over al-Masri is just one more example of how this shit is allowed to go on.Either way, the message that leaks through the mass media looks like this:“We got a terrorist, oh wait, no we don’t, Terror’s still alive, we must keep fighting!” or “We captured a terrorist!The War on Terror is working, people.Remain complacent,America.The government is in control.”

When will you bastards learn to think for yourselves…?God in Heaven, save the Earth and bring on the Nukes, but leaveChinaout of this.All they know how to do is poison food.No, we need to Nuke something more poisonous, more dangerous, more contrary to human existence.BombIceland.

This is the War on Terror and expect more of it, Dear Readers, because our economy is not yet at its knees, no it’s only been whipped into a slump for now, but give it time and all that overhead swatting will finally throw us off-balance.Then we’ll really have a reason for war.The hungry will rise up, and challenge the guardians of what last little bit gas is left; gas that is now set to hit $4.00 by summertime (thank the gas companies for using the war as an excuse for added inflation).That will happen in your back yard, becauseAmerica is smartly, or perhaps not-so-smartly hording what will eventually be the last of the gas.So naturally, the safest place on earth at that time will be any small island, whichever is farthest from that crude shit.

On an unrelated note, the War will continue.

Categories
Health Local News Sports

Experts Agree: Lakeland Girl Owned

Lakeland, Florida—Six malcontent teenage girls became popular yesterday – as per their goal, when they were filmed beating up best friend Victoria Lindsay and the video was subsequently uploaded to YouTube, a popular video sharing website on the Internet, a series of tubes used to connect telecom customers to a World Wide Web of pornography and jailbait videos such as this one.

In the video they can be seen increasing in popularity because you’re watching it.The victim is seen being beaten, punched in the face and having her head slammed heavily into a wall, all the while whining, screaming and complaining in astonishment that people would rise to a challenge.

Since filming the video, the popularity of the high school girl who slammed the victim’s head into the wall has soared tremendously, and even though the girls responsible for face detail could not clearly be seen throughout the entirety of the production, three of them are alleged to have “made some more friends,” whereas the female holding the camera has since received little public recognition for the reason that her face is visible only to the imagination.Throughout the journalism community, she is hailed for her courage in the line of duty and some photojournalists are citing this camerawoman’s badge of honor in place of any superficial fame; however, she has already expressed that the sacrifice of her own popularity is “worth it” in light of the purportedly higher popularity ratio of her friends, and the nationwide attention her video has received.

“I consider it a sacrifice to a good cause,” the teenager, who can not be named for legal reasons (but will be anyway) shared in an Elf Waxclusive Interview.“A lot of people take film seriously,” April Cooper explains, “but I just like filmin’ people gettin’ beat up on.”The mother of 14-year-old April “Fool’s” Cooper (as she’s now known in juvenile hall) feels differently. Mrs. Cooper expressed deep regret for her daughter’s actions when she heard she was to be tried as an adult, yet would gain little to almost no popularity at school.“It’s a God [dam] disgrace to social injustice inAmerica,” the woman exclaimed from within the bowels of her inaccessible trailer.“My daughter’s the reason that little strumpet’s famous, why ain’t we gettin’ no [royalties]?”

Expert anal lists have pieced together this composite sketch of what the heroic April “Fool’s” Cooper is thought to look like:

Forensic scientists say the steady gaze of a seasoned eye accounts for April’s natural ability to videotape violence.

The six females had two potent young men standing look-out in the front yard, “in case any do-gooders showed up,” says Mercades Nichols, one of the popular girls who beat upVictoria.Some thoughtful sympathizers have been leaving funny messages on Ms. Nichols’ phone which then got into the hands of Greta Van Sustren, a common whore who out of pity was given a primetime TV show onFOXNews.Also, plans could be heard through two separate voicemails, in which each male could be heard offering his services as a front-door bouncer, as long as Mercades “put out” (at which point each man promised courteously to “pull out”) – oddly enough, the same favor was requested by both men, indicating a premeditated scheme of cocktease and manipulation leading up to their shared duty as bouncers at the front door of a house where a 16-year-old girl was getting her ass kicked.

“When I showed up at the house, and I saw Zach [Ashley] there, I flipped,” says one of the unidentified boys.His name could not be obtained because he was “about to have a conniption.”

Elf Wax Update: the boy’s name has been confirmed as Stephen Schumaker.

It is believed that the beatdown issued to Ms. Lindsay was not unprovoked, however.Now surfacing are claims of alleged “MySpace drama”, involving name-calling and accusations that the assailants are “bustas” – a word indicating they would not fight Lindsay because “they are too scared.”One of the bulletins read as follows:“NUH UH THEM BITCHES AINT NO WHAT IM ABOUT WHAT THEY GON DO?WHAT THEM BUSTAS GON DOCUZTHEM BITCHES AINT SHIT [but] MOTHAFUCKIN NIGGA-ASS HOS!”In the hospital,Victoriawithdrew her remarks, citing a concussion and disabled vision as reasons for her spineless backpeddling.It is categorically assumed then, that it was not such a wise idea to publicly call out some trashy white girls with something to prove, because according toFOXNews, “their skin might be white, but their soul is blacker than night.”

Elf Wax Update [Editor’s Edition]: Truth-Time, Dear Readers, I fabricated the ALL CAPS LOCK quote used in the previous paragraph because I did not think I would have access to a real quote like it. Note: I completely made it up.

Here is the actual quote, taken straight from Mercades’ myspace bulletin: “TO ALL OF YOU HATIN BITCH ASS NIGGAS SENDING ME BULLSHIT HATE MAIL…FUUUCK YOU. ILL BEAT YO ASS TO! BRING IT BITCHES DONT BE JUST SAYIN IT! AND IF YOU GOT SHIT TO SAY TO MY MOTHER THEN FUCKIN SAY IT TO HER. SHELL KICK YOUR ASS TO!” My sincerest apologies; I was so far off the mark on this one.

All eight adults involved are being charged with assault, false imprisonment, or both while the minors await juvenile sentencing.Top lawmakers are now calling for the establishment of an anti-MySpace-whoring motion in connection to an eHarassment and eBullying bill already passing through Congress.The victim is reportedly being harassed via telephone, MySpace, and emails; however, her father welcomes the attacks because he lives vicariously through his ‘ghettofied’ (street slang for darkening) daughter in the perverted, piss-soaked panty-sniffing nightmare that his life has become.