Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk- Not again!
Yep, another rainy morning for the overworked, undersexed, rarely appreciated, often overlooked, complaint ridden, life hating, living at home bedroom adjacent to mama’s, car borrowing, in the negative bank account, sleepless, fucked up scheduled, university degree holding paperboy… sorrrrrrrrrrrrry… PAPERMAN!
Imagine a life with no gratitude. Everything done right is expected and every little mistake is criticized and printed out in bold ink on a nice white sheet of paper. What’s so lovely about this paper is that it can’t talk back to you- Sure, you can curse it and crumble it, even fart on it… but it’s still there reading LOUD AND CLEAR and perhaps now a little rank “MISSED DELIVERY 46 BEAVER CRESCENT”. This wouldn’t suck as much had it been your first week on the job, but when you know for a fact you delivered to 46 BEAVER CRESCENT because you do EVERY morning- and have for the last 10 years without a thank you- it’s just a kick in the taint because now you are getting docked 3 dollars, when you only get paid .17 cents to deliver it.
Now this problem wouldn’t have even occurred if your customer took a second to take their head from out of their potato chip eating, greasy stooled, trans-fat laden, reality TV watching, 3 second nut busting, never read a book in their life, drooling mouthed, gigantic toilet-paper shit covered asshole and just thought to themselves “ Hey it’s raining today… maybe my paperboy put the paper in my mailbox where he always does when it’s raining; as opposed to the porch when its dry- ill take a look. OHHH WOWWWEEE what a surprise, there it is”.
You would think that to be too HARD of a thought. Perhaps the 1 foot it takes to waddle to your mailbox would possibly cause heart failure you fat-yielding-fuck, or maybe the cool breeze is just too harsh to embrace in the morning you retarded, short-bus, backwards shirt wearing cock-smoker. So next time don’t assume you didn’t get the paper- Take a fucking second to look in your Jesus , Buddha, Hashem, Allah or Goddamn mailbox because the paperboy knows that if you DON’T get your precious PROPOGANDA that its gonna cost him. FUCK!!!
Then we have the regular everyday complainers!!!! These gomers need to be face fucked with a rusty lawn mower!
“My papers wet!”
“Double bag it”
“Put it between my doors”
“In the mailbox in my backyard”
“Don’t throw it at the end of the driveway”
“No elastics”
“I’m disabled”
“My paper’s creased”
“Don’t walk on my lawn”
“Deliver quietly”
“My wife’s a whore”
On and On and On and On!!
If all you lazy fucks who get home delivery have nothing better to do than complain… why don’t you cart your own degenerate ass down to the corner store and purchase your own. It would save a whole shit load of paperboys/girls/men/women from waking up and being YOUR legs. And if anything it would put an end to the system and force these Paper-People to go off and get REAL jobs. A career perhaps! See what I mean… a thankless job!
So next time you rise at the crack of noon and ho-hum your way to your front door in search of your paper- think about the Paperboy who eked himself out of his warm bed at 2:00 am, drove his shit-box to pick up his paper-stack to go out and deliver to all you wasteful fucks who haven’t gotten with the times of reading the paper online. Instead of boo-hooing about your paper being an inch out of place… why not tip your paperboy or leave him a soda on your front porch to show that you care. Because isn’t that what everyone wants in life- to know that someone is thinking about them.
And who knows maybe your paper won’t be farted on- because we all know that if you complain... the shit doth rain!
Viva la Paperboy,
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