Ween Weeningson Goes To The Beach

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1. Ween

It was a sullen draft that swept the curtains from their original position, hanging, slowly sweeping the floor, protecting my light sensitive eyes from the sun. How I hated the sunlight, and how the smooth breeze irritated me. I opened my mouth to speak, 

"Sunlight can suck a ween," I mumble to myself. 

A ween? You ask yourself, unaware of the concept of such thing. Well, my dear reader, a "ween" is a term referring to the male genitalia: ie, my penis. It is also my name. Yes, my parents decided that "Ween" was an acceptable name for a child. However, Karma caught up, and they have both since died of a hard shot of bad meth. How sad. How very very sad. I sarcastically said, when asked to make a speech at their funerals, which, i may add, were separate. They had divorced shortly after my birth, over a dispute as to whom was to use the "Dank Crack Pipe" next. I had inherited such "Dank Crack Pipe" and sold it to a shady man outside of Walmart, who payed me 2 dollars. Apparently, such pipe was not as "Dank" as expected. 

 

I dragged my pale body out from the sheets {stained with sweat and other various body fluids} and quietly dragged my legs to the shower. I turn the tap, i was already naked, you see, and sit down. Standing in the shower is so 2010. I grab the shampoo, and proceed to wash my entire body with it. The soapy pink liquid {I use girls shampoo. Fun fact: Smells like berries} burns my skin. As i wistfully forgot to mention, I am a pigment challenged individual. Or in less Politically Correct word, a freaky albino guy. Seriously, my skin is pale white. You can almost see through it. I sigh, its time to start another day, never leaving the house, never speaking to anyone. Its time to cook meth. 

 

 

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