HAPPY FRIDAY, YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER!

Time to get nekkid!

Time to smoke some crack!

Time go shoot some shit into our veins!

Time to fuck a whore, fuck a sheep, fuck a watermelon!

FUCK FUCK FUCK!

FCUK FKUC CKFU!

IN AND OUT IN AND OUT IN AND OUT IN AND OUT

GET AWAY FROM MY SPOUT

DON'T YOU POUT

I'M GONNA SPURT

GONNA MAKE IT HURT!

SKEET SKEET SKEET!

Friday is the time where you drive to fast, fuck too fast, talk too fast, drink too fast, fast too fast, slow too fast!

VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The devout Jews pray on Friday night, but they were black suits and hats and big old crazy fucking beards in the dead of July, so who's really going to take them seriously anyway, know what I mean, nudge nudge, wink wink,

SAY

NO

MORE!

(Squire.)

People don't wear overalls on Fridays, unless they're fucking farmers, but I've gotta think that even the fuckingest farmers of them all lose the ov's on this most loosiest goosiest choosiest choicest noicest day of the week.

F-R-I-D-A-Y!

FRY. DAY.

I love fried food. If I had a big bucket of fried chicken right now, it'd be pretty pornographic, I've gotta tell you. I don't eat fried chicken much anymore, but I used to. Roy Rogers. Man, that shit was the shit.

SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!

You wanna hear some shit? Come in close, 'cuz it's a big goddamn secret and I don't want anybody to know but you and I wanna get all close to you so I can smell that little spot behind your ear that smells so good and anyway I wanna tell you a secret:

IT'S FRIDAY, FAGGOTS!!!!!!

And, when I say "faggots" clearly I don't mean anything derogatory by it, I'm just referring to any male who has sex with another male. I'm just not using the word "homosexual" because it's too cumbersome and I'm not using "gay" because it's too, well, gay.

Fry. Gay.

I'm pretty (s)excited about this day. It's almost religious for me, just without the funny hats and the black suits. And the beards. When I grow a beard, I look like a Jew, but I look more like a terrorist. A jeworist. I'm not, though. You should believe me, because I told you. If you want, I'll whisper it into your ear, because, seriously, that spot behind your ear is fucking murder.

FRY. CLAY.

Let's make some shit on a lathe or whatever the fuck they make clay shit on. What is it? That shit from "Ghostbusters" with that guy and the girl and he's doing her while they're making a pot or whatever?

I think working at a psych hospital is rubbing off on me. What do you think.

Ah, rubbing.... off. On me.

That's funny.