You only Fail if you stop Writing: It’s almost all over at the University

“It’s official, August 16th is the last day of the Writer’s Workshop. As soon as you receive your diploma for your bizarre advanced degree in god-knows-what, we are all being kicked off campus. Hell I’m retiring, so I don’t give a f*&k.” Said the Professor.

Sunset of the Writer’s Workshop

“Yeah, no matter how much money my Kingdom donates, you can’t have a workshop without a Professor and a Graduate Student sponsor. Without the Professor, who’s going back to North Dakota and that shit-covered Botendaddy who is going back to his ancient, mysterious Utonic Manor to count his riches, we are screwed.” Stated Gryzwacz-Eek-Opp-Ork-Ah-Ah the alien. “We even petitioned the King Garbage Bolean himself and he told to me to take a flying f*&k at a rolling doughnut. He gives a lot of money to Pitt anyway, but he f*&king hates Penn State. Every alien in the universe hates Penn State, because they suck.”

“Penn State does suck.” Said the Park Ranger.

“Hail to Pitt.” Said the Caribbean Queen

“Go Panthers.” Said Hiroyuki

H2P

“What the f*&k are we supposed to do now, fatty? I have no external life. The Writer’s Workshop and fat-hate were all I had. My life is sh&t.” Said the Voat Fat People Hate Verified Shitlady.

“Botendaddy, you got us into all this. If I don’t se you every week, my Spanish Patagonian soul will wither and die.” Said Ramon

“Botendaddy is an 455h013 at any rate.” Added the Stalker.

“I am going to start a poet’s group.” Offered Devon. “But this group doesn’t know sh&% about poetry, or verse or rhyme.”

I am a part of all I have met, though much is taken, much abides, that which we are, we are… one equal temper of heroic heart, to strive, to seek, to find and not to yield. –Aeschylus….” Quod, I dramatically.

“This is sad.” Whispered the Librarian. “My life is also equally meaningless. I know this is a group of mis-shapen, freakish runners, writers and preparers of haut cuisine, but we were like a weird sort of family with the Professor as the matriarch and Botendaddy as the perverted Jim Jones slash David Koresh like cult reader. I mean he f*&ked everyone here.”

“He literally drowned them in 5p3rm.” Said Guyasuta wistfully. “Drowned, inundated with his precious bodily fluids.”

“An equal opportunity pervert.” Added the Weird Foreign Doctor Chick. “I can never go back to Nepal now. He has sullied me with his 5p3rm4t0z04. Every single orifice defiled and some other 53x acts that I never even heard of. Ah the taste of it! Now I have to like, go to work and pretend that I care what I’m doing. I have no other friends. Because I’m weird, I’m foreign. I’m a doctor and I’m a chick. But mostly because I’m weird.”

“He made me feel so dirty. He allowed me to truly hate myself to depths I never imagined. He is old, disgusting, ugly. I wanted to chew my arm off to get away from him. I am madly in love with him. He should marry me and not you stupid cvnt5! Plus we’re both from New York.” Said the Punker Model Writer Chick.

“I’m sitting back here, I am in the room.” I added helpfully.

“I DOWNVOTE YOU!” Shrilled the Angry Online Social Justice Warrior guy. “I YEARN FOR YOU TRAGICALLY! SEIZE MY ORIFICES! I LGBTQ+ABCDE LOVE YOU!” He neckbearded.

“No-one cares about any of you.” Said the No-one cares lady. “You’re all a bunch of useless anuses (anii) a bunch of talentless, stupid cock-bombs.”

The Chancellor

“Hey yunz (not yinz)  f*&kin’ sh^theads need to clear out of here. I got to clean this f*&king room.” Said fat, hairy, unionized physical plant guy. FHUPPG “A new group is coming in here. A bunch of, whaddya call, real writers.”

“I got in all my free weight workouts this year! I ran a 7:58 mile! I ran a 27:42 5k. It was a great workout year. By the way, the only way to fail as a writer is to stop writing. So write on, my beloved disciples, write on.”

“Let’s all get in Botendaddy’s party van, get wasted enroute go to Utonic Manor and 94n9 84n9.” Said the CEO.

“Honey Mocha with Nutmeg?”

The writer’s workshop filed out of the Cathedral into the waiting party van.

The FHUPPG swept up the room. He picked up a pile of the manuscripts produced by the group and threw them into a filthy shit-covered trash bin. Then he turned off the lights.

Peace be the Botendaddy

 

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About Botendaddy

Three times voted extreme sexiest man alive...by acclamation. I run because I must...I must!
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