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.
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.
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 age 35, I followed you.
I still regret it.
At age 36, I organized an orgy at a morgue.
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: