The Bodacious E stepped through his front door and took a deep breath. He was dressed in a yellow and brown striped T shirt so tight you could see his nipples, red corduroy pants, and rainbow suspenders. One of those dumb yamika looking caps with the helicopter blade on top covered his head.
He threaded his thumbs through his suspenders and skipped merrily down the walkway, his head bobbing from side to side. He turned left and began to sing in a high, reedy prepubescent voice that cracked on every other word.
"Fucking feet is what I like to do
And writing terrible fan fic-tion too!"
He bounced through an intersection and came thiiiiis close to being run down by a Chevy van, but unfortunately he made it to the other side in one piece.
"Sucking toes and licking heels
Feet, you know, make the perfect meals!"
He glanced to his left and came to a crashing halt. A green van was backed into an empty lot; the hatch was open and some Hispanic dude in a green plaid shirt was going to town on a blonde girl, him on top and her on the bottom. E only had eyes for her feet, though; they stuck out from under the man, her toes spread in pleasure.
E licked his chapped lips. They were just begging to be fucked.
Tiptoeing over, he unzipped his pants, pulled out his raging 2.5 inch boner, and tittered like a loon. This was going to feel so good.
He was close enough to strike now. He grabbed the girl's foot and rammed his dick into the gap between her big toe and the next one over. E's eyes rolled back into his head as he began to pump. The girl screamed, and the Hispanic dude looked over his shoulder, a dark shadow crossing his face when he saw E. "What the fuck?" he demanded.
The girl yanked her foot away and the Hispanic dude turned, his jaw set and his eyes blazing. E gulped. Uh-oh. Before he could flee, the Hispanic dude grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him close; their noses were almost touching. E was so terrified that he piddled.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
In the van, the girl sat up, her features screwed up in an expression of horror. "Oh, God, he literally fucked my foot!"
The Hispanic dude's eyes narrowed in rage. "P-P-P-Please, don't h-h-h-h-h-hurt me, s-s-s-s-sir," E stammered.
Ignoring him, the Hispanic dude cocked his fist, and E closed his eyes.
The blow didn't come.
E opened one eye; the Hispanic dude was looking at him strangely. "Hey...I know you; you're that retard who writes pimp stories. I hate pimp stories." He hit E square in the nose, and it burst like an overripe tomato. E's vision darkened and he started to cry like a little bitch.
The second blow struck him in the stomach, and the air rushed out of his lungs; his knees went weak, and he fell backwards The Hispanic dude lashed out with his foot, catching E in the balls. He moaned as hot lead rose in his stomach...then he puked on himself.
"Nasty ass motherfucker," the Hispanic dude sneered.
"I'm sorry!" E wailed, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, stop hurting me!"
"Let's go, Bobby," the girl said from the van.
Bobby hocked a loogie and spat: It splattered E's lips and dribbled into his mouth. He choked as it slid down the back of his throat, and as Bobby and his girlfriend drove off, he started to blubber again.
The sound of his cries drew Dr. Jack Kevorkian, who did society a solid and pumped E full of poison. He died as he lived: A straight up pansy ass bitch.
THE END.