So Sayeth The Peabs


Thursday, November 18, 2004

Barbitual Offender.

Yooooou smell like flizzum!
Peabs has never been one to shy away from the press. In fact, I rather love the attention, because I am quite the attention whore. And why shouldn't I be? I'm fucking fascinating. She mars all over your hotel mini-bars.

That being said, Dr. Bill Cosby and yours effing truly attended a gala event last evening in the heart of Manhattan, gossip columnists seemingly everywhere. While most men of my stature may tend to behave conservatively in such an environment, Peabs felt it was necessary to pop a bunch of barbituates, stick a turkey baster full of liquid hydrogen and mothballs in my sweet sweet asshole and give everyone an effing show. Cosby tried to one up me, dressing up like Woody Woodpecker and referring to himself as the "Flying Dutchman," pecking fellow partygoers with his "beak" and attempting to light a crackpipe with his flatulence. Needless to say, it was a fucking sight to see, the two of us. For added measure, we each rented gay escorts, who went by the names JuJu Fruit and Sour Patch Mo-Mo. The look on Lloyd Grove's face was fucking priceless. But much of that had to do with the GHB I slipped in his Cosmo, and the raw, unlubed handjob being given to him all night by a visibly methed-out Matt Drudge. Bovs.

Speaking of those two: who knew that those fucking dildo-fuckers could effing party? Mars she! When I first announced my candidacy for President back in January, Dr. Bill Cosby advised that we should hire a spin doctor in order to influence certain reporters. This somewhat made sense to Peabs, considering my life is pretty much consumed with blowing cocaine with herpes-infested slutbags and wearing Versace cockrings. With that, we hired former 80's heartthrob Richard Grieco as a consultant to the Obvs in '04™ Campaign. While his turn in the television series "Booker" was boviously magical, this was certainly the man's true calling. Pretty soon, we had every newsman in our back pocket. Howevs, Grieco never gave away his secret. Certainly the press releases he would edit and submit to the media well extremely well-written and efficacious, but we knew there had to be something more. Last night, our questions were answered. Not to mention my ass was eaten out like a Sunday Buffet by this Amish model named Robert. Schmobvs.
If looks could kill, get me a fucking mirror.
Anyway, Drudge and Grove found Coz and my pretty self so engaging that they wanted to follow us to our afterparty. I suspected it was because they needed fodder for today's column. Little did Peabs know it was because they were having a secretive, erotic affair with one Richard Grieco.

Cosby and I ditched the boytoys and hightailed it to Grieco's apartment on the lower east side. Richard was waiting for us, seemingly spaced out on speedballs and quoting old Peter Deluise lines from "21 Jump Street." I immediately started injecting skag into my testicles, still a little tweeked from the crank Peabs had been snorting since 1986. Drudge kept asking Cosby if he could be his teacher and give him a "Report" card, to which Coz kept responding:

"Noo, but you can razzle my bozzle bizzle!"

Grove was on the phone most of the time, presumably with Liz Smith. That fucking mo-mo complained about the lack of marijuana the second he walked in the door, and who better to call for some effing bud than Liz? Fucking pussy. Who even smokes pot anymore? She mars. Maybe if it's laced with embalming fluid, then I might let you ooh-jah my boo-jah. Lightweight.

That being said, it was my goal to get Lloyd Grove so fucking messed up that he would misspell my name in his next gossip column (you know, since he's never done that before). So I slipped some methylenedioxymethamphetamine in his single-malt and made him tell me he how he wanted to love Peabs. To be honest, I didn't think I would get this particular response:

"I know you know about my little fling with Matt and Dickie, but you're just like sooooo cute. You know, when I was 14, I used to masturbate into my mother's bras thinking it would be a good story; which is part of the reason why I really, truly enjoy the way Drudgey-Wudgey teabags me with his donkey like nutsack. But your aura... can you imagine if we procreated? I can see the headlines: Fucking Douchebag Fucks President And Has His Children! It would be amazing. What the eff did you put in my drink anyway, Peabs? I really wish you would suck on my nipples and call me Elsie right now..."

Grieco must suck some mean motherfucking cock, because none of this showed up in the media today. Of course, last time I checked, Grove was still dancing to Tiesto and making Drudge give him multiple blumpkins. Ahhh, the power of the press. Bovs on your effing Pepperridge Farm® stuffed tees, you fucking turkeys! Gobble!

Peabs/Cosby: 4 More Shmears!


At 10:52 PM, Blogger George M. said...

You are one deranged mofo

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