At Age… Chapter Two

by Jason Alan


I was thinking about my sad, pathetic life the other day and I realized something. Not only is it sad and pathetic, it’s also boring. So I decided to make some shit up about myself.


When I was a sperm cell, I put my brothers into camps and committed semen genocide. Then I drugged the egg and violated her.


Some of these could be true. You don’t fucking know me, asshole.


In the womb, I strangled my twin sister with her own umbilical cord and made a onesie with her skin.


Didn’t we all, though?


I didn’t cry when I was born, but my mother did. I faked being stillborn.


I couldn’t laugh yet, but it was hilarious.


At age 1, I clamped my gums down on mom’s nipple and wouldn’t let go. She ran screaming through the house as I swung from her left udder.


Even when she fell and knocked herself unconscious thanks to the old Zenith console tv, I still didn’t let go. The first responders were horrified.


At age 2, I fashioned a dildo from my soiled diaper, froze it and used it to fuck my neighbor.


True story.


At age 3, I ate my newborn brother and told everyone he ran away.


He couldn’t even crawl, let alone walk or run. My parents were dumb.


At age 4, I burned a cross in front of the NAACP headquarters.


I blame my parents for letting me watch Sanford and Son.


I spent my entire fifth year pretending I had Down Syndrome.


Not much of a stretch, actually.


At age 6, I was hit by the short bus. The next day, I was riding in it.


I’m aware that’s redundant, but I’m a lazy writer.


When I was 7, I built an abortion clinic with popsicle sticks. Mom was so mad because it was 1:1 scale and I stole her Hoover and wire hangers.


But she forgave me for using the facility to end the pregnancy of my 12 year old sister.


At age 8, I made a volcano for science class. I dumped virgin Barbies into it. My teacher laughed so hard, he almost stopped fucking me.


I’m glad he didn’t stop.


When I was 9, I made a macaroni art tribute to Jeffrey Dahmer. For the paper, I used Jet magazine. Then I ate the black vice principal.


He was salty.


When I was 10, I showed my finger painting to my teacher. She laughed at me, so I said ever heard of Jackson Pollock, bitch, and knifed her.


She lived. Unfortunately.


At age 11, I made the twin towers in wood shop, took them home and flew radio controlled planes into them. When dad asked what the fuck I was doing I laughed maniacally and said, practicing.


I was very goal oriented.


At age 12, I drugged my sisters, broke out gramma’s sewing kit and made a hymen centipede. That was the first time I masturbated to climax.

I tweeted that one, didn’t get many likes. I think it’s funny regardless.

At age 13, a bum let me pay him a dollar to do a skin graft with my miniature Dallas Cowboys football and a blowtorch.


At age 14, I emptied the ball pit at Chuck E Cheese’s, filled it with tree slugs and did laps.

I kept one of the kids I ‘found’ there.

On my 15th birthday, I built a potato gun and used it to shoot AIDS babies at cars on the highway.

These are jokes, people. It wasn’t a highway, it was a side street.

At age 16, I discovered the cure for testicular cancer. Then I used the evidence papers of my findings to roll joints.

That took balls.

At age 17, I started a cult, fucked underage chicks and convinced David Koresh to take credit for it.

I did research here. I was actually seventeen when this happened. WACO: We Ain’t Comin’ Out!


At age 18, I sank an oil tanker for funsies and served the Exxon soaked birds at the KFC where I worked.


I also sat in the back seat of OJ’s white Bronco.


At age 19, I used the Lincoln Memorial as a toilet.


It was a slow year.


At age 20, I constructed a particle accelerator in the basement. It made me sterile, which was good because I couldn’t impregnate my sisters.

I would have made them get an abortion anyway.

At age 21, I raped a guy with a broken mop handle wrapped in barbed wire.

To be fair, he paid me ten bucks.

At age 22, I made a snuff film and jerked off to it every day.

Just kidding. I have a vagina.

At age 23, I slaughtered six million Germans. Just men. The women are so hot.

Seriously. At the airport in Berlin, my dick stayed hard the whole time.


At age 24, Icloned a human and engineered him to be the ultimate killing machine. He just makes me coffee because I don’t need anyone to do my dirty work.


I have convictions.


At age 25, I had sex. With a female. An adult. And human. It was consensual.


Not really. These are just jokes, like i said.


At age 26, I voted for George W. Bush.


I kinda regretted that a little.


At age 27, I snuck into a hospital and hid nuclear waste in the basement, turning the entire building into a cancer ward.

RIP Doomy

At age 28, I helped build a homeless shelter. A month later, when it was so full it broke the fire code, I burned it to the ground while they slept.

Of course I fucked the corpses. I know what you were thinking.

I spent my entire 29th year flashing old people in various parking lots. I tucked my junk.



At age 30, I didn’t do a damn thing.


I needed a break.


At age 31, I had gender reconstruction surgery.


Now I have three dicks.


At age 32, I greased a pig and violated it.

With all three dicks.

At age 33, I killed Elvis.

Yeah, he was still alive.

At age 34, I joined twitter.

At gunpoint.

At age 35, I followed you.

I still regret it.

At age 36, I organized an orgy at a morgue.

Dead serious.

At age 37, I self published Spank Material for the Clinically Insane. Arguably the most reprehensible act I have ever committed.


This is a chapter from my next comedy book. Check out the first one here: