MOTHERFUCKER!

This story is aimed at all of those motherfuckers who for some reason unbeknownst to mankind want to come to the land of the spewing sewers. Just in case some of you are slightly unsure as to what land I am in fact referring to, it's Japan.

"What the fuck is Skweekah up to?" you may ask yourself. Well, let's just say that I have a little story to divulge on the faithful audience of the LetsJapan Web site, the online presence that won some fucking award. "What award?" you may ask. Let's just say that you're asking the wrong piece of shit.

I remember the day vividly. Tokyo smelt like a piece of defecated rotting flesh. Garbage and filth was strewn across the vast concrete jungle that is this grand city. Drone son-of-a-bitches were pushed into trains until their nostrils were stuck up some old homosexual paedophile's arsehole. A bile vomit-coloured haze was masking the overcast skies high above. And I had the worst fucking case of the squirts known the type that results in the reflux of liquicrap through the pores on your face and the insides of your mouth (Liquicrap is a scientific term for diarrhea put through a blender for 100 years and then shaken, not stirred, in a cocktail mixer).

By this stage I had probably done four or five classes and was really fucked up. In one of my classes, I had some old bastard that could have been mistaken for a prop from a psychotic B-Grade horror movie. He had these fucking sunken eyes and a mouth with a set of the most fucked up teeth that looked like those that you buy from a magic/novelty shop. Each time that I would start a lesson the old prick wanted to divulge the most boring story that made me feel like killing anyone within my line of sight. He's by far my favourite student.

Anyway, I had my students open a textbook that the eikaiwa chain that I work for purchased from some form of Nazi regime some time ago. I asked them to quietly browse over a scenario and to discuss it for a few moments while I pissed off to point Percy at the porcelain.

I arrived at the toilet and went about my business in a hurried fashion so as to get back to class. The six or seven cups of coffee that I had in the morning were really starting to place enormous strains on my piss pump. The fact that some tight bitch from my earlier class gave me a motherfucker of a hard-on didn't help my cause either. Let me just say that if 3 shakes equates a wank that I had an extended debate on the topic of metaphysics with the Pope.

So, I ran out of the stale-piss smelling toilet and continued on with my lesson, which, as I walked back into the room, looked quite lively. The old bastard was on his knees under a table, his chair on its side on the opposite corner of the room. When I queried him on his awkward situation, he claimed that he accidentally fell backwards off his chair while he attempted to reach for his pen. "You're not trying to fly like Superman again are you?" I asked interrogatively. He mumbled some shit that sounded like "I wanted to scratch my arsehole with my elbow when I fell from the ceiling" or something. This excuse was surprisingly believable.

Class finished and my old friend was persistently attempting to justify his earlier on-his-knees-under-a-table moment. I nodded and informed him that no one's perfect. I proceeded to organise the room slightly for my next class when in walked PencilDick himself. PencilDick, his real name, was the head-teacher on duty this day and he walks as if he has a 6-inch diameter metal rod firmly jammed into his rectum. It is a joy to watch him glide around the premises on his tiptoes. Tight fucker.

PencilDick: "Skweekah, may I have a word with you."
Skweekah: "Sure PencilDick. Shoot!"
PencilDick: "I observed that during your last class that you wrongly excused yourself to attend to other matters."
Skweekah: "Ah, yeah. I went to take a piss."
PencilDick: "Yes. Well, in the future can you please delay such activities until after your class."
Skweekah: "And risk permanent damage? I don't think so!"
PencilDick: "Students pay good money for classes. It is expected that you give your 100%."

He then shuffled out of the room with accompanying rod-in-rectum. "MOTHERFUCKER!" I thought to myself, enraged. This dipshit asks me to stay back, to come in on my days off, to do extras and he has the imbecility to comment on 2 fucking minutes of instinctive activity? Fuck that!

Guys, this is typical of the eikaiwa industry. It is full of clowns like this (take our fat friend Edo Fackler for example) that make life difficult for people like you and me. We don't ask for much. All we request is the chance to take a piss when we need to. I bend over backwards for these heaps of shit and they fuck you over like this! Fuck 'em! Fuck 'em all to hell! Next time that they ask you for a favour, tell them to go and shake hands with their Sir Francis Bacon. Cause if you don't, you'll be the one left doing it instead.

Skweekah