I stood in the airport Tuesday morning hung over, bleary eyed and kind of ugly (like usual). A series of bewildering numbers and letters that probably meant stuff flashed on boards. I didn’t even try to comprehend them. I walked up to the nearest uniform and handed her all of my papers with both hands.
“I have this many,” I told the woman.
“I… what? Oh, you need help? OK, you’re at gate 32, Runway C.” She smiled pleasantly at first, but after several minutes of intense, silent staring the expression began to waver. “It’s uh… it’s that way. There’s a picture of a fish at a seafood restaurant kind of by the gate. Look for that.”
Once she’d finally used her fingers and picture-words to guide me, I set on my way. I’ve been working for this site for over a year now, but despite all the hilarious stories we tell here, I’ve never really met anybody in person. But that was all about to change: Cracked was having a party – a real, official, ball-busting gala to celebrate their many successes – and when they first invited me, I’ll admit I was a bit skeptical. The phrases “not ever attending” and “your dipshit parade” may have been bandied about a bit. Then they offered to fly me out, all expenses paid. Yet still, I remained reticent. Regrettably, somebody may have brought up the possibility of airline tickets being shoved up somebody else’s asshole sideways. Then they told me it was an open bar.
…and I left so fast it made a man-shaped hole in the wall.
After a hilarious misunderstanding about my new sneakers “being the bomb” and a not so hilarious misunderstanding about my anus being a glove, I finally boarded my plane to California. When we touched down, an impossibly small man-thing met me at the airport. He held a sign that read “Cockway” in beautifully calligraphic lettering. In slightly less impressive scrawl, the “way” part had been scratched out and replaced with “gay.” This latter had been underlined several times, and whoever did it applied enough pressure on the last underline to actually tear through the signboard. There were spots that may have been blood.
“I’m assuming you’re DOB?” I leaned down to shake the man’s hand, but he was so terribly small it seemed inappropriate. I ruffled his hair playfully instead.
DOB: Actual size.
“F-f-f-fuckin’ cut it out!” Oh my, he has a stutter! The trip was already becoming rapidly worth it.
“I got the c-c-c-c-company car over here,” he motioned for me to follow. We reached an empty corner in the parking lot, and he smiled proudly.
“Hop in,” he said, gesturing to the open door of a burrito truck.
I began to form a question, but he quickly raised a hand to cut me off. He was obviously used to this reaction.
“We do d-d-d-d-double duty: By day Cracked is a c-c-c-comedy site, sure, but by night we convert the offices into the best burrito c-c-c-cart this side of the 101!”
“Yeah, could I get two tacos, an enchilada and the top 5 worst examples of sexism in GI Joe?”
“Is that impressive?” I asked. Like most every other subject, I knew very little about California. I know their capital is Schwarzenegger and the state bird is a forest fire, but that’s about it.
“No,” he replied, downtrodden, “n-n-not really.”
We got in the truck, tied the rope seatbelts together and set off… towards adventure! Oh wait… no. I’m sorry I misread that. That said “Ventura.”
We set off towards Ventura.
When we pulled up in front of the bar, I knew somebody was fucking with me. It was a long way to go for a joke, sure, but I know that if anybody would fly a person all the way down to California just to spite them, it’s Cracked. The place was goddamn gorgeous! It was a palace: a mecca of glittering fixtures, expensive booze and stunning women looking sexily aloof and sensually disinterested. (That’s not saying much–all women making eye contact with me tend to look aloof and disinterested. But these ones looked damn good not paying attention to me.)
I don’t know what they’re smiling at, because I have literally never seen that expression on a woman before.
“No fucking way this is the place,” I told DOB, as he deftly hopped out of the still-moving vehicle and disappeared from view. A moment later he reappeared, jogged back up alongside the truck, and desperately hurled a wedge of wood in front of the wheels. The burrito cart slammed to a stop, covering the back of my head with carne asada.
“Sorry, those “brakes” are a little rough. But this is the place, man. Some things we just d-d-d-don’t skimp on. Sure, maybe my office is technically the grill on a burrito c-c-c-cart, and sure, maybe our health insurance is an expired bottle of Tamiflu we all split, and sure, maybe our 401K is a t-t-t-Transformers lunchbox that I keep stealing, but we don’t f-f-f-fuck around about getting tore up. Now shut your meat hole and get inside. We’ve been waiting on you.”
I opened the double doors to a smattering of applause… that quickly died when the partygoers got a good look at me. Was I disappointing somehow? I took myself in: filthy bathrobe, pink fleece sweatpants with the word “juicy” emblazoned across the ass and completely, blindingly shirtless–nope, lookin’ good. I glanced to DOB for an explanation, but he was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood an eight-foot-tall monstrosity of a man, roughly 97 percent limbs and skull.
“Hey, Swaim!” I said to Swaim (it was Swaim, everybody!)
Pictured: Swaim’s creepy, but somehow still erotic dancing.
“Hey,” he replied absently, clearly eyeing the room for somebody more interesting. “The applause weren’t for you. They are waiting on Seanbaby.”
“Psh, good luck,” I scoffed, “he never shows up in these stories.”
“Our table’s over there,” he pointed at a far corner with his Stretch Armstrong limbs, and we started off.
“So, what’s with the ginormous statue of the devil?” I asked him, pointing to a ginormous statue of the devil that was there.
“Well shit, somebody’s gotta pay for all this,” he replied.
“And it’s Satan?!”
“What? No, dude. It’s Red Devil Caffeine Pills. You been eatin’ retard sandwiches or something? Do we need to get you a seatbelt so you don’t fall out of your chair?”
“Oh… sorry.”
“Do we need to hire a guy to monitor which throat-tube you put liquids down so you don’t accidentally breathe your gin and tonic?”
“I get it. I’m sorry I asked.”
“Do we need to get you a crash helmet for dinner so you don’t mistake your own head for a meatball and stab yourself to death with a fork?”
“Jesus Christ! I said I was sorry!” That last struck too close to home. How did he know about the helmet?
Never again, helmet. Never again!
“Do we need to-“ He started up again, but luckily at that moment Gladstone had clambered up onto the horns of Satan and was doing his best Teen Wolf impression.
“Look at me! Give me all of your attention! I’m the Teenage Wolfman!” It was not a very good impression. “I’m snowboarding on a station wagon like in that movie with Kirk Cameron!”
“God you are so old! Everything about that was wrong and I hate you for it!” DOB screamed up at him, shoving the statue with all of his short-guy rage. The mooring lines gave way, and the whole thing came crashing to the floor - Gladstone piggy-backing the Caffeine Devil all the way down to Hell.
Red Devil Caffeine Pills: When you really need to just MURDER THE DAY AND FUCK THE CORPSE.
We finally arrived at the columnist’s table. It was an opulent spread bedecked in rare furs and set with crystal goblets. Some terribly bored and obviously well-paid skanks were sprinkled liberally about the booth in various states of repose, and in the center of this debauchery, on a black granite dais, sat Editor in Chief Jack O’Brien, his hand-carved wooden throne lined with seal fur. I went to shake his hand, but was roughly shoved aside and sat down.
“You do not talk directly to Jack,” DOB hissed in my ear, “unless you want one of two things: a paycheck or a savage dick-beating.”
I spent a good deal contemplating the latter, wondering if it was an intense beating focused exclusively on the genitals, or an intense beating performed with a penis wielded somewhat like a chain flail. I decided not to risk either and stay quiet. An eager, well-kempt young man flopped down next to me, utterly beaming with earnestness.
“Hey guys!” said Bucholz, grinning widely in his overalls and idly chewing on a piece of straw. “Isn’t this exciting?! We might finally have a real story to tell about the Cracked writers getting together! Not just those fictional adventures!”
“Back home in Canada, we drink milk straight from the cow!”
“Sh-sh-sh-shut up, Bucholz.” DOB snapped, somehow managing to stutter a ‘sh’ sound. “Nobody would believe anything that happened here, anyway. We’ve lied and embellished t-t-t-too often.”
“Yeah, no you’re right,” continued Swaim, “this does seem a little unbelievable. It’s like another weak premise for one of those stupid stories.”
DOB began to shift uneasily.
“What if this isn’t real?” he whispered conspiratorially. “What if… what if we’re not real?”
“…you’re finally getting it, aren’t you?” I smiled knowingly at DOB.
“Getting what?” All color drained out of his face.
“You’re finally seeing the thin veil that separates reality from fantasy… and how easily torn it can be. Are you ready, Daniel? Are you ready to see how deep this rabbit hole goes?”
I held two hands out, palms up. On one rested a blue pill; the other, a red.
“What these? Nah, I always carry the reality bending pills on me. Why do you ask?”
“Choose one, Daniel. The blue pill will take you back to the reality you’ve always known, and this will all become a distant memory. But the red pill? Take the red pill, and the veil will be lifted. You will see reality as it truly is.”
With trembling, hesitant fingers, DOB reached out and plucked the red pill from my hand.
“Swallow it and see the truth,” I told him.
“That’s what I told your mom last night,” he whispered reverently, and downed the capsule. He wandered off in a near-religious trance, ready to see the light.
“What was the red pill?” Swaim asked me.
“Quaalude.”
“And the blue pill was…” Swaim started.
“Another Quaalude, yes,” I finished.
“So… why do you have multi-colored ‘Ludes in your pocket?”
“Because it’s Tuesday, man. ‘Lude day!”
“And the colors?”
“Well, it’s a party ain’t it? I’m just being festive. Taste the rainbow, guy!”
Quaaludes: Taste thr rsinboooooooooooow
“Good god,” Swaim swore. “I’m going to need 18 drinks if I’m making it through a night sitting next to you. Where’s that bar?”
Shit! I had nearly forgotten about them–the two holiest words in the English language: “Open” and “Bar.” God, look at them together. They’re like poetry. Say them out loud; don’t they sound beautiful? The lilting cadence of music plays in and out of their syllables. They are a minor incantation of joy, working real magic into the cynical science of this world whenever they are spoken truthfully. Open bar! Open bar! Openbar! Openbaropenbar!
I felt as if in a dream. My legs seemed disconnected as I floated over to that shimmering isle of spirits. I was here! I had finally reached it! My god, do you know what I’m going to do to an open bar? I’m going to make love to it so passionately it might be a war crime. They will write epic ballads about this night. Generations from now, they will sing of it in hushed voices around the campfire and the tale will be passed from father to son. This is oral history in the making! This is how legends are born!
“Bourbon, please,” I told the barkeep. “The best you’ve go-
***
It is now, apparently, Wednesday. I am typing this from what I believe to be Mexico, in what I sincerely hope is not a shallow puddle of human blood. There is something in the bathroom, and I am hoping with the desperate fervor of a Pentecostal that it turns out to be a woman, but from the sound of it, I have doubts that it is even human.
Please, if you’re reading this, I need you to do three things for me: First, call a doctor and ask if you’re supposed to move if you think you’re missing a kidney. Second, call Cracked and ask somebody if I’m fired. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m fired, but it’s nice to have validation. Finally, while you’re on the phone with them (and assuming by some miracle that I’m still employed) tell them I’m calling in sick today.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 4th, 2009 at 4:00 am and is filed under DOB is like a deceiful homeless woman, Drugs, Skittles. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
How Not to Deal With The Red Ring of Death
My Field Trip to the Large Hadron Collider
The Cracked.com Open Bar: An Incomplete Recollection
The 8 Manliest Images on the Internet
Ian’s Unnecessary News Roundup
Ian’s Unnecessary News Roundup
Scientology Wants Miley Cyrus: So Which Should Be Scared?
The Ultimate Argument For Legalizing Weeeeeeed
10 Great Books For (Traumatizing) Children
Copyright © 2005 - 2009 Cracked Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved. CRACKED, CRACKED.COM and the "CRACKED" logo are trademarks owned by Cracked Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved.
November 21st, 2009 at 7:17 am
@patman……fuck you. Just ’cause the last time you got invited to a party was in 1979.
November 17th, 2009 at 10:20 am
[...] Cracked.com: (I heart Robert Brockway, by the [...]
November 12th, 2009 at 1:20 pm
Why are you so mean to your fellow columnists? Bitter you haven’t been invited to be in any of their projects? DOB’s the shit, Swaim’s the man, and you’re … kind of a dick.
November 9th, 2009 at 10:59 pm
Good stuff, keep punching those words! the lude’s part was hilarious!
November 9th, 2009 at 1:23 am
More funny typings, please.
November 7th, 2009 at 2:03 pm
Not Brockway’s best. Didn’t actually laugh until the ‘ludes part, and the Canadian caption.
November 7th, 2009 at 7:20 am
““God you are so old! Everything about that was wrong and I hate you for it!” DOB screamed up at him, shoving the statue with all of his short-guy rage. The mooring lines gave way, and the whole thing came crashing to the floor - Gladstone piggy-backing the Caffeine Devil all the way down to Hell.”
that probably was the awesomest part of it ever.
November 6th, 2009 at 11:45 pm
Fucking Cartilage Head?? Seriously? So many kinds of yes. Brilliant.
November 6th, 2009 at 11:00 am
Hahahahaha. Brockway is the shit.
November 6th, 2009 at 5:12 am
I didn’t find this funny AT ALL. And I didn’t like the stuttering DOB…
November 6th, 2009 at 4:21 am
teach seanbaby how to write better shit. this was hilarious. Job well done!
November 5th, 2009 at 7:21 pm
Do I even need to insert quotes in here telling everyone exactly which bits I loved the most/laughed at the most? Well if I do, I’d be citing the whole goddamn article. Funniest thing I’ve read in awhile - your descriptions of the Cracked staff brought me a particularly comforting sort of joy, that they’re exactly the way I imagine them to be.
November 5th, 2009 at 5:29 pm
I admit I have a pretty short memory, but this could well be the funniest thing Brockway’s ever written. The first bit definitely is; I’m always interested in hearing about what you guys get up to, especially since the “Cracked office” in the videos is so blatantly fake.
November 5th, 2009 at 5:05 pm
Jesus fuck, I just busted out laughing at Ludesday in the middle of statistics exam. When asked if I was using my cell phone to cheat I had to show my professor a picture of unicorn flying in front of a rainbow. Great.
But for realsies, total absolute awesomeness as always Brockway, don’t let the bathroom beast eat you.
November 5th, 2009 at 10:24 am
LUDESDAY! I F*CKING LOVE IT! I seriously crapped my pants I laughed so hard.
November 5th, 2009 at 9:22 am
when i finally get fired for spending the majority of my day on this site i want it to be remembered that this was the story that sealed my fate.
taste the rainbow guy!
November 5th, 2009 at 8:45 am
there was what I believe to be a human kidney in my burrito. If it was yours, I’m sorry I ate it. There was enough alcohol in the thing that I’m still wasted.
November 5th, 2009 at 7:49 am
Amusing but can’t you guys write anything that’s not a fictional story about yourselves?
November 5th, 2009 at 7:47 am
Cracked Burrito Cart makes pretty shitty burritos.
There was a chunk of ice in the last one I got and it damn near chipped my tooth.
November 5th, 2009 at 6:55 am
Recently, I found an age-gap site called __Agegapmingle.com__ It’s a nice place for Younger Women and Older Men, or Older Women and Younger Men, to interact with each other. Age gap is not problem there. You may check out or tell your friends.
November 5th, 2009 at 6:35 am
November 5th, 2009 at 5:34 am
Here is a very nice place——- Cougarmatching.com ——— It’s a premiere cougar dating community for older women seeking younger men and young men seeking cougars. Come in and complete your profile. Post a message, a picture of yourself and check out the hot photo galleries. You will find someone you like here…
November 5th, 2009 at 5:10 am
HAHAHAHAHA i LOVE this guy. well depends, is the wound still open? if so call an ambulence, if not, you should still have another Quaalude in your pocket, dont let that go to waste…
November 5th, 2009 at 4:03 am
I didn’t know Swaim was Cartilage Head.
November 5th, 2009 at 3:04 am
The matrix pills… Possibly the most awesome and hilarious snippet of writing on the site…
November 5th, 2009 at 2:37 am
And why does He-man look like he just shot splooge? That is so fucking sick.
November 5th, 2009 at 2:31 am
You been eatin’ retard sandwiches or something? Do we need to get you a seatbelt so you don’t fall out of your chair?”
That has got to be one of the funniest things I’ve read in a long time. I can’t wait to use it on my daughter.
November 5th, 2009 at 1:53 am
It’s not hard to make a character out of Seanbaby, the dashing pioneer of gonzo video game journalism.
November 5th, 2009 at 12:58 am
So, question, you lifeless drones who comment on cracked…. where does the phrase “if man is five, than the devil is six, than god is seven”… i’ve heard it in a pixies song, but also in a bloodhound gang song…. but i’m kind of skeptical that either one of those groups are the origin of that phrase….. go forth, my lifeless monkeys, look it up… i can’t…. i work ten hours a day, then take care of the mentally handicapped and my computer doesn’t work, so it’s rare that i get access. i’m at the library, on my only day off (from work, not from the handicap), renting books for them while i have a baby sitter for them…. i’ll check the comments in this post later on…. i’m just too busy and too perverse for my own good.
November 5th, 2009 at 12:40 am
So, uh, what was that pile of flesh the “Special Birthday Girl” helmit mashed onto? Was that a knee and thigh in the picture?… It’s a large one, but not to gargantuan for the context…. I’m wondering about freak elbows, however. Mighty, mighty elbows that special girl does have.
November 4th, 2009 at 10:26 pm
Two serious belly laughs:
“I glanced to DOB for an explanation, but he was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood an eight-foot-tall monstrosity of a man, roughly 97 percent limbs and skull.
“Hey, Swaim!” I said…”
And:
“What was the red pill?” Swaim asked me.
“Quaalude.”
“And the blue pill was…” Swaim started.
“Another Quaalude, yes,” I finished.
Sen-fucking-sational!
November 4th, 2009 at 9:42 pm
‘Seanbaby’s never in the these stories’ LOL. Couldn’t stop laughing at the Canadian caption though. Holy crap thats funny
November 4th, 2009 at 9:14 pm
Candy mountain!!
November 4th, 2009 at 7:27 pm
Charlie the unicorn took your freaking kidney. Just shove a banana in it’s place, pour some tequila over it and you’ll be fine. And…what if someone WAS retarded enough to call someone over this article. You know people can sue (and win) over the stupidist things. Maybe add a disclaimer? XD
November 4th, 2009 at 7:13 pm
Brockway, do you really read all the nonsense babbling we write about your column? If you do, just wanted to say: “great column.”
November 4th, 2009 at 7:10 pm
Really different from most Brockway stuff, but I thought it was an absolute riot. I’m looking forward to the book even more now!
November 4th, 2009 at 6:43 pm
hilarious but it ended kinda… erie
November 4th, 2009 at 6:22 pm
Welcome to Shopping ======== http://www.itemscool.com
Best quality, Best reputation , Best services
With our advanced manufacturing, production lines and well-organized sales networks, we can provide many products, such as apparel, shoes, caps, handbags, etc.
Our goal is “the best quality, best reputation and best services”. Your satisfaction is our main pursue. You can find the best products from us, meeting your different needs.
HOT SELL Product Brand is below:
Nike Air Jordan(1-25)/Jordan Six Ring/Jordan Fusion/Nike Shox/Air Max/AF1/Dunk: $32
Polo/Ed Hardy/Lacoste/Ca/A&F ……T-shirt:
Coach /Gucci/Lv/Ed Hardy/D&G/Fendi ……Handbag:$35
Christian Louboutin/Lv/Ed Hardy/Gucci/Coach/Lacoste/ Timbland……Shoe :$35
True Religion/Coogi/Evisu/Ed Hardy/Prada ……Jeans:$30
New era/Gucci/Ed hardy ……cap : $13
Okely/Coach/D&G/Fendi/Gucci/Armani ……sunglass : $15
Nike shoes: 32 $, True Religion jeans: 30 $, Ed Hardy, t-shirts: 12 $, NFL Jersey: 20 $, Boots UGG: 50 $
November 4th, 2009 at 6:15 pm
Like I’m at work and I’m bored but I’m not this bored…
November 4th, 2009 at 5:48 pm
poooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop
November 4th, 2009 at 5:18 pm
The only thing I believe out of that whole disgusting episode is the part about the burrito bus.
November 4th, 2009 at 5:14 pm
You know, until this I seriously thought all the columnists regularly see each other in person–
November 4th, 2009 at 4:15 pm
Just another day at the office.
November 4th, 2009 at 4:13 pm
My friends recommended me a very interesting place __AgelessFriends.com__ It’s a nice place for Younger Women and Older Men, or Older Women and Younger Men, to interact with each other. Age gap is not a problem there. You may wanna check it out and tell your friends.
November 4th, 2009 at 3:46 pm
Damn, I’m sorry I missed that party. It would have been worth the loss of a kidney and the destruction of my liver to attend a bash so totally righteous.
November 4th, 2009 at 3:16 pm
I think it’s pretty clear that I was the sound coming from the bathroom. Sorry for what I did to you, Brockway. So sorry…
November 4th, 2009 at 3:12 pm
[...] Open Bar: An Incomplete Recollection Jump to comments Posted in: Featured There’s a new column up at Cracked, regarding the intricate series of lies about the Cracked staff party that we are disseminating to [...]
November 4th, 2009 at 3:04 pm
I liked wumpuseatsus story better.
November 4th, 2009 at 2:38 pm
… and a dog named Blu.
Watch him hump their leg http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1292175/ and OH, OH… there’s the glue!
Ughness!
November 4th, 2009 at 2:05 pm
So I saw the most bizarre elevator behavior ever today. A man literally tried to squeeze himself through the still-closed elevator doors. He looked back at me with…I don’t know…maybe bewilderment or terror or both. Whatever. He mumbled something to which I replied, “I prefer bat shit AWESOME!” uncomfortable silences filled the moments. “You spelled ‘help’ wrong anyway, asshole,” I said, or maybe I just punched him in the mouth. “Oh shit fuck goddamn it” and something about a mother came from the wierd guy now fully committed to pressing himself through the impossibly tiny space between the slowly opening doors. Moments later the doors closed again leaving me enclosed in the confined space with the lingering stench of his defecation and blood. And you KNOW how I hate confined spaces.
November 4th, 2009 at 1:05 pm
I usually never read these, but this was pretty funny. The picture of the drunken haze is hilarious. Anteaters?
November 4th, 2009 at 12:37 pm
Heh, funniest thing I’ve read in a while. Also, gotta love the Achewood reference. Murder the day and fuck the corpse, indeed
November 4th, 2009 at 12:05 pm
The longer time one spends on the internet, the more jaded one becomes to expressions of humor.
I can say that most material online has a hard time even drawing a smile from me, but I must admit, this had me laughing genuinely.
Thank you for this.
Now, to see the Hunter S Thompson’esque version of a Cracked staff road trip…with more emphasis on the drunken shenanigans.
Thanks again, you fail to disappoint. As always.
November 4th, 2009 at 11:57 am
So that’s what Swaims like in real life…
November 4th, 2009 at 11:57 am
Brockway, you are a true gentleman.
November 4th, 2009 at 11:39 am
I am so deeply honored to have been turned into an Achewood character, you have no idea.
November 4th, 2009 at 11:20 am
too short
November 4th, 2009 at 10:57 am
@SteveHardon
Heavy Metal
Ford Mustang
Lottery Winner
Here’s one more:
White Trash
Sorry, I don’t really mean that but it was just too easy.
November 4th, 2009 at 10:55 am
This was hilarious. Now just make sure Seanbaby and Cody end up in Mexico, never to be heard from again, and Cracked will truly be a perfect place.
November 4th, 2009 at 10:30 am
Your portayal of DOB cracked me the fuck up, as did the ‘brakes’ of his ‘office’.
Was that actually Brockway in the picture? I’ve never seen a full picture of his face before - just that half-face pic with the beard and glasses.
November 4th, 2009 at 10:22 am
+1!
November 4th, 2009 at 9:42 am
The Expanded Beautiful Two-Word Phrases:
Open Bar.
Three Some.
Free Tacos.
Christmas Bonus.
South Park.
Heavy Metal.
Blow Job.
Ford Mustang.
Season Tickets.
Sub Sandwich.
Big Screen.
Three Stooges.
Lottery Winner.
November 4th, 2009 at 9:26 am
Amazing story Brockway. You’re one hell of a comedy writer. I had to leave my Statistics class because this was making me literally laugh out loud. Also, I really want to try some ludes now.
November 4th, 2009 at 9:24 am
Fucking genius, Robert. I haven’t shit myself from a cracked article for quite some time, and I am now quite shitty.
November 4th, 2009 at 9:10 am
i feel like maybe cody is shoved into one of the storage spaces on the burrito truck till he gets at least half positive comments. he really should have learned after gladstone’s kafka lesson.
November 4th, 2009 at 9:08 am
That picture with him holding the sign looks like Swaim! Does anyone else agree with me?
November 4th, 2009 at 8:59 am
That was epic and fantastic and beautiful. Your gift with the written word is incredible!
November 4th, 2009 at 8:48 am
Man, that is the best visual representation of a night of drunken debauchery I have ever seen. It really brings back tiny, dim echoes of what I think might have been good memories. My hat is off to the Cracked graphics department… or would be, if I hadn’t left it in Tijuana. Or maybe it was Tecate. If that was even Mexico, that is.
November 4th, 2009 at 8:45 am
I like the idea of fucking something so hard its a war crime. Thanks for the read Brockway!
November 4th, 2009 at 8:10 am
Some have said “cellar door” to be the most beautiful phrase in the english language but we all know it is “open bar”
November 4th, 2009 at 8:05 am
I was wondering where Cody was too.
November 4th, 2009 at 8:04 am
What in the 7 Fucks was that helmet sitting on top of?
On second thought, I just gonna think it was the daughter
from “The Coneheads” (which it might be. I never saw the movie.)
November 4th, 2009 at 7:52 am
Pretty damn hilarious. Every time I’m exposed to an open bar I always have this overwhelming feeling that things might, and very probably will, get out of hand. I must be growing up a little since the chances are now about 60/40 that I’ll at least remember the gathering.
November 4th, 2009 at 7:41 am
Recently, I found an age-gap site called __Agegapmingle.com__ It’s a nice and free place for Younger Women and Older Men, or Older Women and Younger Men, to interact with each other. Age gap is not problem there. You may check out or tell your friends.
November 4th, 2009 at 7:37 am
Brockway rules.
I normally get tired of the Cracked office stories, but this one was hilarious.
I seriously wonder if these guys HAVE ever actually met….
November 4th, 2009 at 7:22 am
I think you hit Swaim’s speech patterns right on the head. Nice job.
November 4th, 2009 at 7:20 am
Awesome <3
November 4th, 2009 at 7:16 am
the part where DOB hops out of the burrito van was my favorite
November 4th, 2009 at 7:14 am
God-FUCKING-dammit Brockway, I was laughing SO hard through this whole thing. You’re a dick, all you Cracked writers are dicks, I can’t get any work done when I’m busy shitting myself.
My point is, well done.
November 4th, 2009 at 7:12 am
What is that furry thing in the picture? Is it some kind of anteater?And…why does it look like it’s crucified?Does Brockway have some kind of reanimated anteater messiah bumping around in his bathroom?Did they trade kidneys?Or did he just capture Chupacabra again?Is that what Chupacabra looks like in the morning?
It does look like it has a mouth perfectly adapted to goat-sucking.
November 4th, 2009 at 7:09 am
Great ending! I hate those mornings.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:56 am
You’ll be fine without your kidney, just make sure you keep your horn where it is.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:53 am
Man now I want to know what happened that makes you think your fired, and whatever happened to DOB? Great article though man. Hilariously funny. DOB the midget with a stutter. Brilliant.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:43 am
this could easily be the best story I’ve ever read on Cracked. I was LOLing all the way through! Good work sir!
November 4th, 2009 at 6:42 am
Great stuff, as always.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:29 am
Ludes Tuesday. That’s shamefully funny.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:27 am
Ludes Tuesdays. thats shamefully great.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:26 am
*funniest. Damned no Edit button.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:24 am
That’s got to be one of the funnies DOB portrayals I’ve yet read. Great article! Good luck with the kidney!
November 4th, 2009 at 6:23 am
That last picture makes the whole article. Well done.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:21 am
So I guess Cody was not invited to this party?
November 4th, 2009 at 6:20 am
“Red Devil Caffeine Pills: When you really need to just MURDER THE DAY AND FUCK THE CORPSE”
That was beautiful
November 4th, 2009 at 6:20 am
If you guys had a television show, I would buy a television and only watch your show on it. I would also hollow out the remote and use it to store my peyote.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:16 am
NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR FILTHY WEBSITES!!!!!!
November 4th, 2009 at 6:15 am
Props for drinking Bulleit, Brockway, it’s the right bourbon for utterly destroying any semblance of humanity. Woodford Reserve may technically be better, but that only means that if you’re caught inside the zoo at 4AM trying to molest a three toed sloth and the cops smell Woodford on you, they’re going to think that you’re some kind of deviant.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:12 am
OK dude that looks like a lot of fun, lets hit it!
RT
http://www.private-web.se.tc
November 4th, 2009 at 6:12 am
You, sir, are my pajama-spiration. Excellent fun.
November 4th, 2009 at 6:05 am
I LOVED this post! I was laughing through most of it. Your the best Brockway!
November 4th, 2009 at 5:53 am
Don’t confuse ‘disinterested’ with ‘uninterested’. A disinterested girl might be a good thing.
November 4th, 2009 at 5:40 am
I didn’t know DOB was a stuttering midget, it does help explain all the psycho rage though
November 4th, 2009 at 5:09 am
well done
November 4th, 2009 at 4:51 am
That was pretty fucking good.
November 4th, 2009 at 4:19 am
My friend recommended me a very interesting place _____Meet Wealthy com_____*** It’s where wealthy singles looking for someone to enjoy their wealthy lifestyle with.