I Want You, Mr. Slurpee McGee

I love slurpees – I will do practically anything for one, therefore I’ve compiled a list of what I would do to get one. I would run a marathon, swim five miles, not six because it sounds like sex- I’m no pedophile. I would bike from one end of a small MI city to another. I would lick a bathroom floor. I would eat sand. I would poke a bear with a stick. Come within 30 feet of Lindsey Lohan. Say the ‘N’ word- actually I wouldn’t. I would talk to a Rabbi. I would wear FUBU. I would plant lots of trees to help the environment but then cut them down 20 years later as long as I could get a slurpee. I would masticate in public, I already have once. I would talk with an asian accent the whole day and not even laugh so people think it’s real. I would hide my right arm in my shirt so it looks like it’s missing, but pull it out at the end of the day and say, “Surprise, I just grew it back.” I would drink goat piss, A.K.A. Busch Light. I’d put my tongue on one of those heavy duty batteries that causes electrocution. I’d listen to rap, or worse, Neil Diamond, or worse, The Carpenters, or worse, the Partridge family, or worse, the song Mambo Number Five all day. I would donate my left testicle.

At this point, I don’t know what else I can give up or if I have any more dignity to be stripped. All I know is I want a . Where’s my boy Almond from Speedway? Where are you Almond?