Chadwick’s Hotdogs
“Hi ya doin scuutch”, I began, “You know my goddam name. My fucking name is Chadwick now get the fuck over it.” If you’re reading this then you probably don’t know who I am. Occasionally people call me quirky. The women call me so kinky that they sometimes want something besides a hotdog from me. “Why the fuck did you raise your hand then lower it to mock me. Are you done dashing piece of shit.” Then the streaky bloke opened his fat mouth, “I was the fucking substitute teacher and you were only 13. Cannot you feel my pain.” Talk about excuses. If I had a cent for every excuse this bloke and dipshit has made then I’d probably not have to be Hot Dog Man. I know what you’re fucking thinking. Originally I was going to be hyena man but, I resembled a werewolf too much and people don’t want to think of the bad guys from the Lion King. Tell you the fuck what. “See your ass later, you putz. You fucking McFuckWork . You’ve gotta be the biggest cocksucker I ever met in education and you aren’t even in the higher kind. Billionaires are shitty as it is. Rising to the top brings the worst out in everyone.”
Ch. 1: One Sonoma Bech Down, God Knows how many to go.
“Room. Room. You bastards listen to me”, I exclaimed like the mighty roaring lion I was and still the fuck am, “You may call me a smut peddler but, how the fuck else am I gonna live. How the fuck else am I gonna live.” “You sure have one fuck of an imagination”, Some prostitute dressed up as bun came up to me, “You’ll need to sail way before this siren will sing your way into a New Yorker’s trap.” “Look toots”, I responded levelly, “Ain’t no fucking way that I’m going cow tow to some real bitch like you. You are a real bitch if you begin a fucking sentence complimenting my imagination then end with my ass in a trap. That is a mother fucking backhanded compliment if I ever knew one.” I slapped the bitch in the face then like the silly bastard I am the fuck away. I started crying to because she was some bitch. A real sexy one that I could probably bulldoze.
Ch 2: Doing the fucking predictable
“They say the more accurate I can predict my day from beginning to end, the closer I am to the grave like a fat Tony. Fat Tony recently died of diabetes.” “Sorry for your goddam loss, Chadwick”, began my sidekick, “Catch Up is my fucking name and I rub myself all over you until we fight crime to the fullest and beat criminals down to the dullest.” For Christ’s sake, I fucking love Catch Up but I wouldn’t stick a wiener in him no matter how light my loafers got, or so I figured, “Look Catch Up, you’ve got some way of putting things. And by putting I mean wording. Don’t make a statement about you rubbing up against me.” Catch Up looked at the ground.