There is a fucking centipede in my fucking shower: Difference between revisions

When I woke up from my death because plot, I thought to myself, "What was I doing? Oh, right.”" So I ran into my sunroom, grabbed my rocket launcher, and stormed into the bathroom. The centipede was nowhere to be seen. I paced anxiously. And then the motherfucking centipede jumped on my motherfucking face. I screamed, flailed, and shot my rocket launcher by accident. It blew a huge hole in the wall, but I didn't notice because there was a motherfucking centipede on my motherfucking face. I fell through the hole in my wall into my backyard swimming pool. Once I surfaced, I began to calm. I fell in the pool, so the centipede must have drowned, right?

"Help! Help!”" I pleaded.

"We have a doorbell, asshole!”" was the response.

"I need to call 911!”" I yelled.

"911, what's your emergency?”"

in my motherfucking shower!”"

"Oh shit, we'll call the S.W.A.T. Team at once!”"

"What happened?”" I queried.

"There are TWO motherfucking centipedes in that motherfucking shower!”" was the team captain's exasperated response.

"Hello, Mr. Trump.”"

"Hey. Who is this?”"

"My name is not important. What is important is that there is a motherfucking centipede in my motherfucking house. Please send nukes.”"

"Ok, under one condition. To pay for nuclear warhead bills (that's a thing I guess), give me a small loan of a million dollars.”"

"I'll see.”" I said.

"Trump, I'm mistaken. They are not centipedes.”"

"If they're not centipedes, then what are they?”" Trumped growled impatiently.

My reply was simple. "Immigrants.”"

"WHAT?!? WHAT?!? WHAT?!?”"