Dirk Dirtwood's Dirt House
The Adventures of a Southern Dipshit

The Bughouse

My friend Johnson used to have a house we called The Bughouse. We called this place The Bughouse for one reason, and one reason only: It was full of bugs. The Bughouse was home to all sorts of crazy little creatures of the night; insects that seemingly serve no other purpose than to be at the bottom of my shoe, like an angry Zeus striking with no mercy on every little ant of a mortal.

                Johnson used to study insects because he was taking up some sort of insect major at the local community college. He was a diehard insect fanatic, studying their every limb, but he had no money. An insect scientist with no money is like Angelina Jolie with no pussy so he was pretty useless because that meant he had no science lab. What Johnson did have was a rotted down house he inherited from his uncle Jimmy. Since this piece of shit was already a termites favorite fuck toy, Johnson said fuck cleaning it, I’ll make this my lab Bitch! Those were pretty much his exact words too; the day the house was passed to him he said “Dude, guess what…my uncle gave me a house.” When asked what he would do with said house, Johnson replied, “I’ma make it my lab, Bitch!”


                The Bughouse looked like Rosie O’Donnell’s asshole after getting ass fucked by Barbara Steisands dick. I mean it was horrible. It smelled like 20 T-Rex’s shitting in a toilet for Wee-Man. My tit grasp of the English language cannot even express how nasty this place was. Fuck getting too descriptive, imagine the bugs and insects you fear the most and multiply that by a whole house full of ’em. This place was Freddy Kruegar’s  wet dream. And Johnson loved it! He would always tell me how he wants to make it his permanent residence one day. I pretty much just said whatever dude.

                Why we ever even went there I don’t know. I do know that Lenny Lane used to always go smoke weed there with Johnson. They’d toke up and then go and kill bugs with lighters and shit. I’ve even heard ol’ Lenny would hit the occasional crack pipe there. Regardless if Johnson did, who knows. He was always bugged out anyway.

                These fuckers would be smoking in The Bughouse day and night. When Lenny was smoking crack, he’d get stupid as fuck. He used to always start punching holes in walls for no reason. One desperate night Lenny even beat the shit out of an old man for crack money. He kicked a young boys teeth in just because the dude had a Twilight t-shirt on. Motherfucker was crazy. Anyway, Lenny and Johnson were always getting high on something in The Bughouse, be it weed, crack, bannanna peels, whatever. One night, late late at night, Lenny left his pipe on a counter or something. The pipe got knocked over or something, and the place caught on fire. I say something because the events are a little hazy.

                The Bughouse was completely disintegrated in a mere 20 minutes. This place was so far out in the middle of horsefuck island that the place was already on its knees by the time the fire busters got there. No one knows for certain what events transpired on that fateful evening; Were they high? Were they doing drugs? Did they burn it down themselffs? Was there something I could have done? But if there is one thing I am sure of, it’s that it doesn’t bug me.


One Response to “The Bughouse”


    Just kidding. That place really sounds like a shithole. Great blog so far.

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