Match Game Story: "Freeper Freddie is so fucking dumb (he IS a Freeper!), he ____ his carpet."

Ten words or more in the blank, make a nice story.

Sorry for the one day delay - I forgot about it yesterday!

shagged

:rofl: I crack me up

shagged :rofl:

actually thought his kids, now in their twenties, were still okay with him sitting back in his recliner and slowly masturbating while Rush Limbaugh droned on through his headphones. It made for very uncomfortable meet-the-parents nights for his older son, as his date would eventually find herself nibbling through a Taco Bell Gordito Crunch and watching the Rottweiler flinch while being splashed with freeper semen minutes after Laura Ingraham's show started. A week before, he'd spent his entire Christmas bonus, from his job putting caps on dry-erase markers before they were sealed in their boxes, on a satellite receiver and two boxes of Kraft Mac & Cheese and gone into an epileptic jizz-jamboree upon finding the Rush/Hannity/O'Reilly/Ingraham repeat channel. He didn't even realize that his wife and kids had left along with the dog. With his eyes closed and his ears filled with bullshit, he slowly starved to death while he strained his overworked prostate gland trying to hit the newly bowser-void area now known as his carpet.

"bowser-void area" deserves special merit.

:applause:

with it being shagging day on DU and all.

:P

he mowed his carpet."

Freeper Freddie is so fucking dumb (he IS a Freeper!), he somehow got the idea that it would be a good idea during his renovation of his shitty suburban cottage to attempt to wash his tacky 1970's-style faux-tin aluminum ceilings with steel wool and turpentine, a bad combination if any HS-aged junior chemist knew one.

Freddie though is no chemist, though perhaps his experience of building pipe bombs and making napalm in his outdoor bathtub should have taught him that iron oxide and alumnimum combined with an accelerant makes thermite, an industrial incendiary used to cut boat hulls and armor panels for tanks. Big boats and big tanks like Freddie liked to watch in his combat porn on The History Channel on his old 13" B&W TV: battleships, AEGIS cruisers and M-1 Abrams.

Scrubbing away, the downy-white flakes of powdered aluminum fall like snow into the equally-tacky and not fire-rated mustard-colored shag-carpet he'd gotten cheap at Bob's Rug, Beer and Bait and mingled with the particles of iron from the steel wool. Hating hard work, Freddie decided to take a break with a couple of Budweiser, some boxed mac-n-cheese and spy on Ann Coulter, who lived next door, frolic in the sprinklers. After playing with himself for a while, he returned to the task at hand and quickly finished with the ceiling.

Satisfied with a job well done, he settled into his favorite Laz-E-Boy for a smoke but before he could light the cigarette, he passed out from drunkenness and the cigarette tumbled harmlessly to his carpet.

(Oh come on, after a set-up like that...I had to go with the let-down twist-ending.)