Submitted by NotRyanJarman (Whatever, GA) on 01.02.14
Today I have had a bad day. A lot of things have been stressing me out and I have been getting progressively more agitated as the day goes on. My anger management advisor suggested I vent my frustrations somewhere, and this seems like a relevant place considering the most recent of today's events.
Firstly, today, I have lots of coursework to do. Coursework really pisses me off. I haven't actually done any, but the thought of it pisses me off. Then, to make matters worse, my Dad made me have a shower. I wanted to sit in my own ball sweat all day long and rot away, I didn't want to have a shower ( joke's on him though because I put my pyjama shorts back on straight after anyway). And my dog Ross won't leave me alone. He's at my heel all day. He's so needy and doesn't understand that if I don't get my own space, I'll get really, really fucking butt-hurt.
After all these anger-inducing events, I decided to relax and play some Gran Turismo 6. I just got a really nice Dodge Viper and have it maxed out with every performance upgrade. There was only one problem. It can't drive it. It's too powerful.
I'm just sitting there, trying over and over again to get a clean lap around Nurburgring Nordschleife, but can't fucking get past the first few turns due to spinning out. It's not like me to quit at a racing game, so I fiddled with the car's settings and tried again and again, but with no success. At this point I am extremely frustrated. My agitated mood is making me even worse at driving. And what's more, my stupid dog keeps barking at me every time I shout at my television. It barks and looks at me judgementally, and I don't like it.
Anyway, after several hours of trying, I finally start making progress. I have nearly done a whole clean lap of the mighty Nurburgring. I am near the end of the 14.2 mile course, and I am feeling extremely tense. I hardly dare touch the over-sensitive throttle. Even Ross is sitting stock still at my foot, as if he feels the tension as well. Just one distraction could ruin everything now. And then it happens: that one distraction. It was Ross' dribble. A warm gooey ooze falls from Ross' open mouth and lands on my bare foot. I yelp and the Dodge Viper spins out of control, just as I approach the last straight. I immediately scream so hard I am sick in my mouth a bit. I throw my controller at the wall as it shatters into several pieces. I am raging so hard, my veins must be stuck out like drain pipes. And then the shit-storm happens. I am straining so hard that I shit, hard. Ross' tail wags with delight as he stares up at me, clearly enjoying all the commotion.
I stand there with tears in my eyes - no doubt expelled from the sheer pressure of straining. My room was a mess. Poo drips down my leg and begins to soak into the carpet. Ross' tail wagging slows as he senses the dire atmosphere. My Dad appears in the doorway, looks me up and down and says: "you had better have another shower, son."
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