Remember how the worst thing you could ever be was gay? The 90s were weird man. Like what if you were dead and gay?

Ever think of that, microdick?

How do you respond to someone who wants to ask you out on a date?

Depends on how gay you are.

We regretfully inform you that Bob the COVID Killer died of AIDS.

YOu know what’s a good indication of good, deep love? It’s how far you’ll go to find the best place to deal YuGiOh cards without being told to leave because of your ruthlessly terrible hygiene.

Enjoy, mother fucker.

When one moves across the country it better be for a good reason. Like evading federal authorities. Or opening up a new weed store.

Or both. It’s whatever. Nothing is real.

I peek my head into the bar.

“Anybody here want to play Yugioh?” I ask with a pensive voice.

I dodge three bottles on my way out.

I got a whole lot of beans.

Big ass beans.

Beans you’ve never seen before.

Beans.

You know who must be the saddest of the American sports fan families?

Texan hockey fans.

Think about it.

The only city in the state with a club? Dallas. The worst city in Texas. A black hole of culture, devoid of any relevance beyond its borders and yet carries an audacity that will lead it to claim otherwise. A mecca of yuppie deviance and boat shoes, with a boring ass skyline, and an attitude to match. It does nothing the worst, nor the best, nor even particularly mediocre. It is insultingly bland to the point you wonder why anyone has any pride in it. It is an insult to a state like Texas.

Also their only cup came from a goal that should not have counted. (lmao)

Austin? They got the Texas Stars that’s cool I guess. But they exist in the shadow of the Stars, therefore they serve their Dallas masters. That’s super fucking lame.

Houston? For having a super successful franchise with some of the top attendance numbers in the league (no seriously), and for being one of the only teams in the city to remain consistently competitive enough to care about, were banished to mother fucking Iowa. A fate worse than death. The one city with hockey history spreading back to the 70s, an established franchise with recognition, merchandising and colors that are already out in the while and could print money in the future if they wanted to do “throwback” stuff, an instant cross-state rivalry with Dallas that would be fucking awesome for the league to see. The War for Texas could potentially rival the Philly-Pittsburgh rivalry, seriously, there are some people with bad blood in Houston for Dallas and Dallas for Houston. It kinda owns for an outsider like me, and I can appreciate the tenacity I anecdotally saw at the Aeros games I attended. Also, an NHL-ready arena sitting in downtown with access to an international airport. Sure traffic sucks, but there is literally no good reason why there isn’t an NHL club there. Even from a business standpoint, leaving such a massive TV audience untapped is beyond dumb.

San Antonio? Fucking RIP to the Rampage, sorry guys.

All those cities and only one NHL squad.

Come on man!

You’re breaking my iced up little balls over this!

Bitch!

Oh man, I haven’t been to the donut shop in ages. It’s packed right now too – must be all the people at the office across the street. Where I’m from. And where I work.

Huh. Never put those two together.

Too bad I’m not at work today. Nope. High as a fuckin’ kite! Ready to roll into some funny ass Netflix standup comedy specials and admonishing myself for getting too stoned again. The perfect vacation.

Gotta start the day properly though. Two dozen donuts for myself sounds great. Guess I’ll get a shitload of random ass donuts.

Man, this is kinda embarrassing though, isn’t it? A little weird? Two dozen just for one guy, man, that’s pushing it. Especially as far as the sugar goes. Hell the carbs alone would weight him down for a week. That’s some goony ass gross shit right there. But they’re so good.

Fuck, I’m next. Fuck. The people behind the counter I’m going to judge the shit out of me. What if I acted like I was ordering for coworkers! Yeah. Yeah, that might work. I might not be dressed like I’m ready for work, my sweatpants don’t exactly scream professional or anything, what with the ten day old Frito’s cheese sauce stain.

Shit, I’m up. Fuck. Now this sucks, this really sucks. I gotta either bail or figure this out.

Shit. Oh! Naw, wait, I know.

I pull out my phone. I gesture wildly. I talk as loud as I can. Everyone must know that I am not the only one who will partake of this bounty. They will know that.

Oh yeah, hi, oh gimme a sec, I say as I keep talking to no one on a dead phone. Hi! Oh yeah, I’lll make sure to get those, Lisa loves those little spinny ones. Yeah, right! Oh yeah, give me six of the bavarian cream for Doug! Ok, gotcha, thanks. Oh, what’s that?

Ok. Ok. Got it. Marty wants about ten of a good mix of normal ass icing ones. Yeah, yeah, he likes the classics, what can he say.

I’m sweating. I feel as if I’m about to vomit. My anus puckers. My teeth chatter. I am ten and standing at the front of class again. I am twelve and still in the same grade because I did nothing but go and stand at the front of the class.

As I’m talking, the phone goes off. The screen lights up. It is now clear I have not been using my handset as previously established. The employee behind the counter and I exchange stares. We say nothing. We know the hard truth. I take my sugary fucking shame in my two boxes that they filled with silence and disappointment. I leave the Weird Donut Shop.

On the way out, I feel a hand at my shoulder. I turn. It’s a UN Inspector. I have violated the Warsaw-Dunkin Act of 2019. I am put in handcuffs and taken away as photographers crowd around. I’m placed in the back of a van. No one is supposed to own that amount of donuts. I should have known better.

I am placed in front of a tribunal. I am sentenced to death.

I probably could have thought this one out a little better.