User:Horace Donald Westenchester/I Pissed On A Hobo And I Liked It
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This was never the way I planned my night out. It definitely wasn't my intention at all. I just got so brave from all the cocaine and vodka shots that I lost my discretion.
Trust me: this was totally not what I'm used to. I'm sorry, but during my raging high, I felt like it was necessary to find a hobo on the street and void my bladder all over his scruffy beard.
Okay, I'm just going to admit it: I pissed on a hobo and I liked it.
edit You Pissed On A Hobo And You Liked It?!
Yes. Really, I pissed on the hobo just to try it. I just hope my girlfriend doesn't mind that I pissed on that poor bum. Sometimes the whole situation felt so wrong. But most of the time it just felt so right. It doesn't mean I was being a pervert last night; at the time, chasing the hobo down the alley while I wrangled my urine spewing penis in his direction felt like a great, life-validating accomplishment.
The way I'm looking at it is: I accidentally pissed on a hobo, and then consequentially, I liked it. Really, that could have happened to any average Joe. So what if I liked it? Immensely?
edit Did You Know Anything About This Hobo You Pissed On?
No I didn't even know the hobo's name. At the time I didn't really think it mattered. Did I really want to know the name of the guy who I was going to piss on?
I just unzipped my pants and let the juices flow. This might sound strange, but at the time I imagined him as my experimental game. Not the type of game you shoot and kill. The type of game that you piss on.
For me it was just human nature, pissing on this stranger. Pissing is normal for everyone. So what if I used this hobo as my private pee puddle instead of one of those corporate ripoff toilets? I know it's not what good people do and not how I should have behaved, but my head got so confused. It made it impossible for me to obey social norms. I felt so free peeing on that hobo.
edit Can You Describe This Hobo You Pissed On?
It was dark, man! The only thing I remembered before pissing on him was that he had rather soft skin. This certainly came as a surprise for me since I thought most hobos had rough, unshaven, acne-ridden skin. But unbelievably this man had the softness of a baby's cheek.
The same couldn't be said for his lips, which turned out to be pretty drab. I wish his lips had looked more kissable. Normally, I think I'd prefer to piss on someone with full, red lips smeared with cherry chapstick. But in my cocaine-induced hysteria, that hobo was hard to resist. So I whipped off my belt, unzipped my fly, and pissed on the poor guy.
It was too good for me to deny it anymore. It's really not a big deal! If you ask me, it's innocent to want to piss all over a hobo.
Yeah. I pissed on a hobo and I liked it.