I wonder... do you like fat whores? because I have a lovely story for you. It's more funny than anything but still disgusting, immature, and hi-fucking-larious.
What is a shit slip, you ask? I will explain through a detailed account of my firsthand experience with the aforementioned. It was a bleak day at Hidden Valley High, a day like any other, similar both in its moroseness and the fact that I had arrived fashionably late. I crept stealthily past the attendance window hoping to avoid notice and made my way swiftly to study hall. Midway through the forty-five minutes allotted for class I heard an announcement summoning me. “Emie Weisman, please report to the office,” it said, and I dutifully abided by its order. Walking down the hall apprehensively, I wondered what they wanted from me. I stepped through the door trepidly and approached the fat whore behind the front desk. She was a middle aged, morbidly obese woman with an ass comparatively large even to the rest of her exaggeratedly fat body; a fat, stupid whore with dark curls piled atop her head like a big mound of shit (bringing new meaning to the phrase “your hair looks like shit”) and a gap in her teeth seemingly large enough to stick a straw through and inhale milkshakes, a theory I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that she has tested. She was obliviously engrossed in her computer; I stared intently until she became aware of my presence. “Oh, there you are,” she said. “Hold on one second.” The fat ugly bitch fumbled around in her drawers full of all the shit and god knows what that she keeps behind that desk and eventually pulled out a strip of paper similar to the tardy slips with which I had become so familiar. She proceeded to pull up a trashcan, drop her pants, and squat her big fat ass over it. I stared on in horror at the scene that followed and at the impossible rapidity with which it occurred. The fat whore squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, and shot a copious quantity of liquid diarrhea into the receptacle, dropped a huge deuce, and farted flecks of shit, some of which spattered the walls like shrapnel; all of this, I would like to reiterate, happened in a rapid succession I thought humanly impossible. Paper still in hand, she brought it to her big fat ass hole and wiped quickly. A noxious stench diffused throughout the room. “Congratulations, Miss Weisman, your tardies have given you the worst attendance in school and you get a shit slip.” Beneath the translucent streak of shit on the paper I could read the words “For the greatest achievements in the worst areas of life, Emie Weisman is awarded a Shit Slip for outstanding tardiness.” The whore smiled almost scathingly and held the shit slip out. My widened eyes drifted from the fat whore to the sordid piece of paper she now offered me, and gape of sheer disbelief never left my visage and I was unable to utter a word even as I gripped the one scant corner left unsoiled and went from the room. I finally regained my speech as I walked in a daze back to the commons. “What the fuck?” I cried into the emptiness of the hallway. And that, my friend, is what I know of shit slips.