“Only when I’m really drunk, but I’m too coy to admit I like it.”

“But man, about this rhino," he continued, "I think it just saved me from a furious deity. It’s like it was the exact opposite of a sacred and religious experience. But why? Why do you even have it?” “Well, folklore has it that it’s a powerful aphrodisiac, but honestly? It’s not even about the drugs anymore. It’s about the sacrilege, and I think I understand why it saved you,” Geoff said, unzipping his pants and delighting in the terrified expression of his soon-to-be seat cushions. “Clarify,” Chaz prompted. “Well you see, sweetheart, this is not just an endangered species here – I actually went out of my way to develop a personal connection with the beast. Four years ago I flew to Africa to scout out my own white rhino: Like picking a lobster from a tank. And I found one: A beautiful mare with sensitive eyes. I paid to have her inseminated, and fed her a handful of cocoa beans every day at sunset until she gave birth. I watched that calf being born. I named him after my firstborn son: Maddox,” as he set his bare ass-cheeks on the throne, Geoff thought he felt the first tell-tale squirm of defiance. He reveled in it. “I brought him back to my estate in the west hills,” Geoff continued, rotating his buttocks in a figure eight pattern, “where I raised him to adulthood, making sure to spend several hours a day stroking and reassuring him. Yesterday morning, I took him out to the parking lot of an abandoned Wal-Mart, tied him to a stake and then ran a first-run original 1950 Rolls-Royce Phantom IV into him at 60-miles an hour. Totaled the car. The doctors say I likely have extensive internal injuries from it. Maddox, of course, died on the spot.”

R.I.P. Maddox: A Bright and Shining Star in the Darkness.

“Good lord! So that’s what all that hemorrhaging was about! I thought you were just wearing make-up – you know, to counter the crushing nihilistic boredom.” “What is this, amateur hour? No, I'm purple because my lungs are bleeding and I am simply exulting in the newness of it. Regardless, I promptly had Maddox boiled in a solution of champagne and exotic oils, and then ground into dust. I believe it was the unholiest thing a human being could possibly inhale for fun, and that’s what either saved you from a furious omnipotent being, or possibly cost you some theological ass sex. If it’s the former, you’re welcome; if it’s the latter, I owe you a latte. But more importantly: What’s that aftertaste, Chaz? Can you identify it?” “It’s like… it’s not really a taste. It’s like… old blues records and Shakespeare. It’s…” "Yes?" Geoff was on the edge of his seat. The seat was choking back tears. “...sadness and betrayal,” Chaz finished. “Magnificent!” Geoff literally bounced up and down with excitement. At that, his throne of South American Furniture Performance Experts collapsed,  at last breaking form. Two ran for the door, one took a wild swing at Geoff, and the third simply cried himself to death. “You motherfuckers are crazy if you think I’m paying you!” Geoff screamed at the traumatized backsides of the fleeing chair-men, his shriveled genitals swaying in arrogant victory. “f*****g AMATEUR HOUR!”

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You can buy Robert's book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead, or find him on Twitter, Facebook and his own site, I Fight Robots because he- no, hold on a second. Did he really just say God likes anal? What the f**k is this guy’s problem?

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