Cult Boy is the fucken chump who sits next to me at work.
He dresses like a Corky and watches me like a puppy waiting to be let out so he doesn’t crap on the carpet. Where other people have dysfunction, he has beige non-offensive answers to every goddamn thing. His cult leader tendencies and creepy I-will-make-you-love-me-even-if-I-have-to-forcefeed-you-rainbows smile are drive me Kurt Cobaine.
The sound of him eating lunch is akin to the lapping of Fat Bastard’s saliva glands as he eyes a baby. I hate his sounds as if we’ve been married for thirty fucking years. Every fucking hum, every fucking slurp makes me want to shoot him in the nipple with a BB gun so many times, it makes him look like he has a lopsided man boob.
Also known as: Flanders, Thunderbird Boy and Hymey.
I’m diggin’ yo’ funky, zany way of writing and expressin’ yoself. Keep up da good work. Peace out!
Thanks much, Californian kid.