My dear old dad. I know, I know, you've heard quite a few. Trust me when I tell you with my dad there are always stories just waiting to be told. Before you read this, I should warn you. There's doodoo in it. I know y'all remember how I said my dad's stories start one of two ways "Well, I was bored..." or "Well I got to drinkin'...." This is the latter.
Anyways, my father went to college. He was forbidden to live on campus after his first year (more on that later), so they moved into an old house. One night, his friend Petit went to sleep early while the rest of them stayed up drinking. Late that evening my dad gets bored (he was already drunk), so he tells his roommates, "I'munago over and sh*t in that corner."
"Nuh uh!" They respond. Note to YOURself: Never tell Venus's father he won't do something, because he'll be hellbent on proving you wrong.
My father takes a sack, goes to the corner, and proceeds to empty his colon.
"You sh*tting?" His friend asks.
"Uh, yeah." My father responds.
"I'm going to wake up Petit!" The friend rushes down the hall and jumps at their sleeping amigo. "Wake up! Wake up! Mike's sh*tting in the corner!"
"Leave me alone or I'll shoot you," comes the sleepy reply.
He runs back in to the living room where my dad's just finishing up, and tells my dad. Eureeka! My dad has an idea.
He rummages in the drawer to find another sack, blows it up, then twists the top. Satisfied, he happily trots in to Petit's room.
"If you don't get up, I'm going to bust this bag of sh*t on your head." He threatens.
"And I'll shoot you with my 22." Petit never opens his eyes.
"I'll still bust it." My dad harrasses.
"And I'll still shoot you."
My father creeps up to Petit's head and yells, "Here!" then busts the sack.
Petit jumps up half-naked and begins pulling his gun out from under the mattress, then runs down the hall, "MIKE!"
