Tocky on 12/3/2016 at 05:11

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No! I know that bastard John! I AM that bastard John! He always wants more! He deserves to suffer the fruits of the flesh!

Sulphur on 12/3/2016 at 07:51

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I am John's large intestine. We're usually the best of pals. We enjoy six packs together, raucously share the opinion that there's no finer food than a quarter pounder with cheese and pickles, and don't take any crap from just about anyone.

One day, however, John took a suppository without consulting me; I tried to ring up my lawyer for advice, but John misconstrued this course of action for something else. 'Buddy,' he told me, 'I ain't got the time to learn how to play the tuba through my ass, so quit it.' This only agitated me more, for our relationship was quickly turning toxic, so I signalled him to get his act together by gently reminding him that it takes two to tango, so to speak. Perhaps this was ill-timed, because his wife was just coming up from the basement with a basket of freshly bleached briefs, and chose that moment to query the merits of our relationship.

'Jane,' he said, 'you been riding my ass so long, 's it any surprise I keep getting skid marks?' I had to say, I could only heartily agree and I did so with as much enthusiasm as I could muster - a pitch-perfect, sustained C# quaver - to punctuate that moment. Jane wrinkled her face and flounced off.

I'm telling you, if John could have high-fived me in that moment, he would have, but Jane would probably have had something to say about that, too. Anyway, John was so happy, he decided that the remaining suppositories could wait for another day. In my relief, I must admit with some embarrassment, I let myself go a little prematurely, and John had a liiiittle bit of an oil spill, shall we say, that he had to clean up himself because Jane had packed up and gone to her parents' for the weekend (my relationship with Jane's nose remains one where we're mostly at loggerheads, sadly). John, though, he understood, like no one else in this universe ever would. That's what friends are for, and suffice to say, that weekend was the best we've ever had, and we remain the best of buddies to this day.

Yakoob on 12/3/2016 at 19:31

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I'm glad SOME are finally grasping at the deeper implications of John's existence! Keep mulling the thoughts, you are close to the core of the real meaning of the twist ending!



Perhaps... we're ALL bastard John...? Hint hint ;)





You know what hopper?

Fuck you.

Fuck your fundamental misunderstanding of what constitutes art.

Fuck you and your inability to grasp deeper concepts.

Sucks balls?

Fuck your tiny woman-balls that never grew big enough to relate to the male oppression John faces every day.

Fuck your pretentious vocabulary that fails to reason John's simpleton-esque inner monologue.

Fuck you and your cronies shitting on art.

I've spend over ten years on this board and this is the reception I get? No no no, this is not how you treat a fellow man. This is why John could not have a good day. THIS is why characters like him turn to alcohol. But I am a bigger man than that, and will not give in to the brutality of an infantile group-think.

Fuck TTLG. I've seen so many quit in my years and now I understand why.

Fuck all of you. I'm out.

[/Yakoob]

Mr.Duck on 13/3/2016 at 08:57

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John considered life, but found respite in death. It was a queer feeling to have at 5:05 AM while covered in strawberry jam. Timothy did not mind and simply kept on licking. There was something soothing about the raspiness of his tongue.