Small Town

by¬†We’re Not Funny

I was born in a small town. I was raised in a small town. Used an outhouse in a small town. Tipped some cattle in a small town.

Drove two dozen miles to get groceries in a slightly bigger town. Drove back to the small town.

Went crazy adjusting my TV’s rabbit ears in a small town. Ended up listening to the radio in a small town. Couldn’t find crap on that dial in a small town.

Got fucked by a Cougar in a small town. Unfortunately, it was John Cougar Mellencamp in a small town.

My town was so small that the black guy had to live on our side of the tracks. It was so small that one time we tied up Gulliver. And raped him. He was asking for it in a small town.

My town was so small that I lost the election for mayor to the other guy. I suspect dead people voted in a small town.

My town was so small that falling in love with the girl next door meant masturbating in my sister’s closet in a small town.

My town was so small that we had a church, post office, all 13 years of school, a public pool, library, gym, community college, town hall, discoteque, Public Works, convention center, plastics factory and indoor skating rink. Did I mention all in the same medium-sized building? In a small town.

Got nothing against the big town. Went to New York, got naked and found a parrot perched on my penis in a big town. It had large talons in a big town. I had to spin around really fast to knock the large-taloned parrot off my penis falcon-style in a big town.

But my town was so small. If my town was testicles, I would suspect it of steroid use. My town was so small that the first time we ever seen us a black feller was when they started puttin’ that Muslimic one on the TellerVision and callin’ him our president. In a Small Town.

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