Happy Halloween, douchebags

I dig Halloween, but it's only been in the past few years that I started to feel the love. Patrick Jihad has always been big into Christmas. He likes the carols and the sentiment and the whole mistletoe thing -- who invented that little gimmick, I have no idea, but what a fucking brainstorm that was -- grab strange hot chicks and make out with them under a plant? Hellfuckin'yeah!  But I take the mistletoe a step further and start groping all the women I get under the mistletoe. I'm very selective, of course -- no trolls -- but make no mistake, I go for volume. I start right after Thanksgiving, and if I haven't molested 30 or 40 sets of titties by Christmas, the shame is mine. And it's really a public service, when you think about it. I've detected no fewer than four lumps over the years -- none malignant, thank God. Two of those lumps I actually discovered while performing oral groposcomies, a very detailed and intimate procedure I reserve for "Ladies of Quality."  Patrick Jihad has always been a giver.

But now I am into Halloween because I've been involved with a haunted house in my neighborhood. It's pretty cool. I dress up as the Grim Reaper, hook up an amplifier and hide a microphone in my cloak and the GR's voice BOOMS out over the crowd! I work the guillotine. I am the man. Nobody fucks with death -- well, mostly nobody -- I had to declare motherfucking Jihad on some smart-ass 14 year old  fuck face who started talking shit to the Grim Reaper last year. I was like What the Fuck? Who fucking squares off on the motherfucking Grim Reaper handing out candy? You don't say shit to the Grim Reaper except "Thanks for the Twizzlers." But this little piece of redneck trash starts telling the Grim Reaper "You ain't shit!" "You ain't scary, motherfucker!"

And that's when Patrick Jihad came out and made the Reaper back the fuck up for a minute. I told that little fucking cocksucker to shut the fuck up, take his motherfucking Twizzlers and get the fuck out of the Haunted house or else I'd find out where he lived, come over there in the middle of the night, beat his boney ass with a bike chain while he slept, skull fuck his trailer-trash crack whore of a mom until she had an imprint of my dick on her tonsils then beat her with the bike chain too. I was screaming into the microphone, so it's loud as shit and this little retard is standing there like Rain Man listening to it with his mouth hanging open.

He left his Twizzlers, the little pussy. The next kid in line, a short kid with a limp like Tiny Tim hobbled up and got it. I was still pissed so I told him to take another Twizzler or else I'd cripple up his other fucking leg. He grabbed the second piece of candy and hobbled away like a bitch. Then I calmly became the Reaper again.

From then on, shit was right. Nobody talked smack and I got to be the Reaper the rest of the night. It hurt me to declare Jihad an that kid, I have to be honest. But take your goddamn Twizzler for Halloween and shut the fuck up.