Lost Obama Mixtape of Doom
This page is not safe for work or school. The content of this story is not suitable for some audiences, and may be inappropriate to view in some situations.
Hello. My name is [insert your shitty antagonist name here]. I am being hunted by the Government for finding the true thing that Obama has been hiding from America. You see, in the 1980's, Obama was fresh as shit. Man, I'd let him do my bitch if he was like that today. But with every 1980's African American, he had one secret. His mixtape.
I found the mixtape covered in feces, beer, and ectasy. I don't know what that had to do with anything, but the tape was salvagable, but being every antagonist in a Shitpasta, I decided to throw it away because I'm a piece of shit with a low self esteem that doesn't need this right now. I went home to talk to this smoking hot asian girl on the internet, by the name of Sexy Asian Girl 4 u. I saw her on this ad for my favorite porn website, Porn4u. Anyways, I paid my ten dollars every hour to talk to her, and she began telling me a Mixtape was in her house, yelling at her for the money. I heard gunshots from the chat. It was insane. I heard her yelling, and screaming, and yelling. All while Daft Punk and Get Low played in the background. I couldn't help but get jiggy with it. I popped down to the floor as Wop started playing, I did the worm, every dance known to mankind. Then I heard something indistinctly in the background "stop dancing motherfucker, I'm tryin' to kill a bitch!" It was obama. I instantly shitted my pants. This was my favorite pair. I got into a fit of rage as I tried to take the pants off, but the shit was burning into my skin, molding my favorite pair of pants to my skin. Instantly, I knew what had to happen. I turned into pants boy. Oh wait, this is a story about the mixtape... well... Anyways.
The Mixtape banged on my door. He had a bat and booze with him and started yelling at me, this reminded me of my childhood. I got up, and scooped some of my shit from my pants into a sock. I also grabbed some of my butter in the fridge and mixed the shit and feces together. The Mixtape opened up the door and I screamed, "Taste ass butter, unholy mixtape of Doom!" The ass butter hit, direct shot no scope. I had been practicing this my whole life on CoD. The Mixtape was defeated. I salvaged the rest of the tape, and from this day on, they say I still keep on getting jiggy wit it.
Written by Critic of Sadness
|Comments • 0|