Category Archives: Easily Amused

The Customer is Always Right — Especially When They Have a Gun

While the juicy deliciousness of fast food has brought out the crazy in many of us, at least you can feel safe at night knowing it’s never influenced someone to shoot off a gun. Ha. Just kidding. It totally has.

Come on now, were you really surprised?

Hell, when it comes to fast food, the only thing that WOULD surprise me at this point is if someone ordered a Big Mac and a large fry and paid the correct amount and was given his exact order and he left happily. Now THAT would be a twist ending.

But no, we’re left to deal with the customers who will straight up shoot your ass.

Like, for example, when a mysterious white SUV pulled up to a Taco Bell drive-thru one late night expecting food, only to be turned away for a silly little reason such as the restaurant being closed. So, instead of trying his luck at the 24-hour McDonalds down the street, the driver instead opted to park in front of the restaurant and refused to budge until he was given the service he demanded. Although, I have to say he probably had better chances of survival staying parked out there than risking his luck at McDonalds. Really, Micky Ds and Taco Bell are just two chambers of the most disgusting game of Russian Roulette—one way or another it is not staying inside your body.

So, after sitting out there for a while, the manager finally decided to go give him a talking to. Of course, as soon as he opened the door, he was greeted with a sudden rain of bullets brushing past his face. Fortunately, they all missed him. Unfortunately, however, they hit the employee behind him, exploding into her leg and knocking her down to the ground. The SUV then drove off, probably because he suddenly remembered there was a Wendy’s two blocks over. Also because he didn’t want to go to jail. Oh, and he was crazy. That, too.

Speaking of Wendy’s, let’s take a look at a case that occurred back in 2007, also in Miami (COINCIDENCE!?). Our new drive-thru employee was just doing his job behind the drive-thru window when someone decided it was Let’s Be a Dickhead Day (it was actually just a regular Tuesday). A man pulled up and retrieved his order. Understandably, he asked for some chili sauce, which was given to him.

Then he asked for some more. This is when things started going downhill. Apparently, the absolute maximum amount of chili sauce per customer is three packets (as any Wendy’s aficionado surely knows), and the unknown drive-thru worker liked to pride himself as an ideal employee. The man in the car, however, did not give a shit what the policy was, and demanded more chili sauce. The manager, Renal Frage, was then called up to the window for assistance.  They bickered for a while, the customer just not understanding why on earth someone who refuse him chili sauce, and then drove away in a huff. It was not until the manager, Frage, returned to his office that he realized the customer had totally just shot him in the arm, and was now bleeding all over everywhere. He then proceeded to check his body multiple times in complete shock, forever confused at the mindset of humanity.

“I was trying to figure out while in the hospital why someone would shoot me over some chili sauce.”

Yeah, good luck there buddy. Perhaps you might want to consider uping that sauce policy to like four or five packets. Maybe even six. Just a suggestion.

Give Me Chicken Nuggets or Give Me Death

How many times have you’ve been caught sitting around, just minding your own business and behaving like any other innocent citizen would, when a deep, persistent hunger suddenly strikes full force? A seed planted long ago by tedious advertisements finally begins to grow into something a little more than just an idea—it becomes the only coherent train of thought graspable. Whatever variation of the craving you may be suffering, it’s always the same: you must have it, and at all costs necessary.

It is the only thing that matters. Everything else can wait. Baby crying? Screw it, they’ll still be crying when you return. House ablaze? Yeah, well, odds are it’ll still be on fire in a half hour, too. There is nothing that compares to satisfying this withdrawal; this longing of obesity.

So you get up, quickly leaping into your car and taking off at full speed. Red lights be damned! You have a mission to accomplish and you will not rest until you’re good and full! Pulling up to the nearest drive-thru, you frantically tap your fingers along the steeling wheel as the stupid teenager with her stupid acne behind the register tries her best to remember how to operate the window. All the while thinking that if she doesn’t take your order soon you are going to literally explode of starvation, tiny maggots of famine splattering against your windshield forever to ponder, “What if? What if?

And then, to your utter dismay, she finally remembers to slide the window open, and you are free to demand whatever it is you desire.

That is, of course, assuming it’s even on the breakfast menu, as Melodi Dushane of Toledo, Ohio, soon came to learn. You see, Melodi was craving some chicken nuggets. Real bad. But the thing is, it was still morning, and as we all know, McDonald’s is a real bitch when it comes to time restraints. Needless to say, this left her pretty distraught.

However, unlike ordering a McMuffin like the rest of us in this situation, Melodi instead went a different route: wherein she stepped out of her car and proceeded to punch the drive-thru worker repeatedly in the face.

The drive-thru girl did not back down either; first trying to rip Melodi’s hair from her scalp until finally getting the bright idea of closing the window (with the help of arriving co-workers). There was a bit of a struggle, Melodi’s hands being crushed more than once (along with the spelling of her first name being ridiculed even more times), but after a while she was at last isolated outside. After a few feeble attempts to bust the window with her elbow, Melodi returned back to her car, seemingly implying air was safe to breathe again.

But then in a twist of events like M. Night Shymalan at his worst, Melodi suddenly sprung back out of the car hurling what appeared to be a beer bottle through the drive-thru window, shattering most of it to pieces with a fierce rage unmistakably identified as a lust for poultry. Melodi concluded her fit with one last rabid punch through the now violated window, subsequently fleeing back inside her car and speeding away, where she would soon find herself facing 60 days in prison, 3 years of probation, and more than a $1,500 fine for damages.

You can watch the whole thing on video tape below:

At the end of the security video, the next car in line is rather visible as it pulls up to the shattered window, feeling a cluster of emotions that can only be defined as, “What the fuck?”

I can only imagine the drive-thru worker carrying out the next order acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened whatsoever. Hopefully the breakfast hours were nearly at an end.

Or, you know, the next customer could have asked for chicken nuggets as well, and the cashier would have totally went mental.

The Sex Toy of Tomorrow


Here at RumpRage Industries we claim to be an influential company (we claim a lot of things), aiding the lonely man and/or woman since 1973. And aside from the sparse cases of dissatisfied homeless people (keep in mind we never actually verified the Rum Sucker’s capability; besides, no one really cares about homeless people, we just say we do), we have succeeded.


We have enlightened many generations on the fine arts that we’ve grown to love today; ever since we first brought up the age old question: why drool over Disney’s Aladdin and risk damaging your television, when you can simply just stick your penis in a real lamp?

See? We're geniuses.

It’s so simple once you think about it

Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have come forth once again with an invention so ingenious it is sure to make you explode from the mere thought of it. Explode in your pants.

For years you have watched George A. Romero movies, gasping in delight as hordes of flesh eating monsters ambushed the unsuspecting fictional public. For years you have been wondering what exactly you would do if caught up in a similar scenario. You have been daydreaming and daydreaming of the day the undead finally rises.

Also during this time, according to studies pulled right out of our asses, you have also been having lots and lots of sex with dolls.

Well, obviously we took the only logical step to progress mankind. Meaning, of course, we have merged your two favorite hobbies into one boner-inducing masterpiece.

So without further ado, let us proudly present you with … The Zombie Love Doll.

Object may appear larger (and sexier) in person

Object may appear larger (and sexier) in person

Every necrophiliac’s wet maggoty dream has come true, thanks to the beautiful minds behind the creation room of RumpRage Industries.

Now, instead of going through all the dirty work of buying shovels and digging through graveyards, you can just skip all the hassle and get straight to the boning! No longer will the fear of prison be a factor, for this toy is absolutely street legal (we think). You can buy this baby at your local Walmart even (probably not). You will never have to worry about what the neighbors think, because statistics tell us that they will most likely buy one too (they won’t).

This top of the line item is the sex toy of the future! Sure to inspire many more lovely inventions along the way. Let us please clue you in on some of these incredible features:

Voice Operative!

Now as you thrust into your undead partner, hear her moan! And moan. And croak.

Amazing realistic feel!

When you rub your hands along your new gal you’ll be sure to feel its exceptionally arousing cold rotting flesh. You can stroke her razor sharp bloody fingernails anywhere you please! Just keep in mind that they are really sharp. And we mean really sharp.

Long lasting odor!

Sealing your new love doll with the recent groundbreaking perfume, “Casket Shagger”, we have made well certain that it will seem like you’re right there in the dug-up grave with her! Finally you can violate a corpse (or a zombie, whatever) in the privacy of your own home! Or your neighbor’s home! Whatever!

Mobile Brains!

Carry these squishy foreplay beauties right in your doll’s head! Just pop open the detachable skull, place them in, and enjoy. You’ll never experience such pleasure anywhere else in your life! Bring the metaphor a reality and literally fuck her brains out!


Along with many more tasteful additions, and with the low cost of $499.99, you’re getting one helluva deal! We’re practically giving these things away. Why, you may ask? Don’t we love money? Well yes, of course we love money. But we love our customers even more. We strive to satisfy, and with this undead love-machine, we guarantee satisfaction!


And, uh, if you aren’t, then too bad. What are you going to do, sue us over the unsatisfactory plastic corpse you humped? Yeah, that’s what we thought.

The 20 Best Edited For TV Lines of All Time

You’re sprawled out on your couch with one hand clutching a brew and the other hand scratching your balls. The dog won’t quit violating your toes with its tongue and if that goddamn baby doesn’t shut its trap you’re going to apply duct tape. The football game you’ve been tuning in to commences to halftime so you begin to aimlessly flip through the channels until coming across one of your favorite R-rated films of all time. You kick the stupid rape dog in the face and throw some candy at the baby and prepare yourself for the inevitable hilarity that are TV-edited movies.

Here are some of the lines you may find yourself coming across:

20. The Big Lebowski

Original line: “Do you see what happens, Larry? Do you see what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass?”

Edited to: “Do you see what happens, Larry? Do you see what happens when you find a stranger in the Alps?”

19. The Usual Suspects

Original line: “Hand me the keys you fucking cocksucker”

Edited to: “Hand me the keys you fairy godmother”

18. Die Hard

Original line: “Yippie-ki-yay mothefucker!”

Edited to: “Yippie-ki-yay Mister Falcon!”

17. The Exorcist

Original line: “Your mother sucks cocks in hell!”

Edited to: “Your mother sews socks that smell!”

16. Half Baked

Original line: “Yeah, get me a box of condoms, and, what was that thing we used to eat back in the day? What was it……oh yeah, pussy.”

Edited to: “Yeah, get me a box of condoms, and, what was that thing we used to eat back in the day? What was it……oh yeah, pudding.”

15. Half Baked

Original line: “Have you ever sucked dick for weed?”

Edited to: “Have you ever sucked feet for weed?”

14. Snakes on a Plane

Original line: “I’ve had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!”

Edited to: “I’ve had it with these monkey fighting snakes on this Monday to Friday plane!”

13. Silence of the Lambs

Original line: “I’d fuck me, I’d fuck me hard.”

Edited to: “I’d marry me, I’d marry me hard.”

12. Scarface

Original line: “Where’d you get that beautiful scar, tough guy? Eating pussy?”

Edited to: “Where’d you get that beautiful scar, tough guy? Eating pineapple?”

11. Scarface

Original line: “This town is like a great big pussy waiting to get fucked.”

Edited to: “This town is like a great big chicken waiting to get plucked.”

10. Kill Bill

Original line: “My name is Buck and I like  to fuck.”

Edited to: “My name is Buck and I like to party.”

9. Ghostbusters

Original line: “The containment grid was shut down by ‘dickless’ here.”


Edited to: “The containment grid was shut down by ‘Wee Willie Winkie’ here.”


8. Bridget Jones’s Diary


Original line: “I’d rather have a job wiping Saddam Hussein’s arse.”


Edited to: “I’d rather have a job washing Saddam Hussein’s cars.”


7. The Breakfast Club


Original line: “Eat my shorts!”


Edited to: “Eat my socks!”


6. The Breakfast Club


Original line: “Did he give you the hot beef injection?”


Edited to: “Did he give you some hot love and affection?”


5. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off


Original line: “Pardon my French, but you’re an asshole!”


Edited to: “Pardon my French, but you’re an aardvark!”


4. Do the Right Thing


Original line: “Motherfucker!”


Edited to: “Mickey fickey!”


3. National Lampoon’s Vacation


Original line: “Fuck yo momma!”


Edited to: “Man, who do I look like, Christopher Columbo?”


2. Casino


Original line: “Fuck me? Fuck me? You motherfucker!”


Edited to: “Forget me? Forget you, you mother forgetter!”


1. Forrest Gump

Original lines: “Whoa! You just ran through a big pile of shit!”

“It happens.”

“What, shit?”


Edited to: “Whoa! You just ran through a big old dogpile!”

“It happens.”

“What, it?”



The Great Fly Massacre of 2011

It was just like any other night. Sometime in the early a.m. I made myself some Ramen and sat down to watch a low-budget horror movie with my friend ‘Anna. At the start, everything seemed to be going normal. The noodles were salty and body-destructively delicious and the movie was practically leaking an abundance of gore and bad acting. Plus, ‘Anna had totally admitted I was the boss of her and everyone else in the world [citation needed]. What more could I ask for in life?

Well, for one thing, I could have asked God for a world without flies.

I have no idea where they all came from. Usually, my room is bug-free. The only other living organism within the four walls of my abode consists of the adorable baby shark I’ve been raising in my closet over the past three months. All other intruders are consumed by my aforementioned pet as a warning to the rest of the burglar kingdom.

But last night … something was different. There were flies. Everywhere. Flying.

They came like magic. One second, my room was Heaven, and then suddenly it transformed into some kind of Bug Hell. Everywhere I looked, there they were, making annoying buzz noises. I tried to focus all my attention on the movie but after so long I just couldn’t take it. The only light in my room at the time was the laptop screen—which was directly in front of my face. How could I concentrate on anything other than the army of kamikazes coming straight for me?

I ducked, but they swerved to meet me. They tried to fly into my eyes and I closed them and before long they were buzzing in my eardrums. I smacked at my face, inflicting more damage on myself than any of the bugs. They started crawling across my laptop screen with their pathetic little bug legs and it took all I had not to kick my computer square in its electronic jaw. They seemed to be everywhere, bugging up on me. Pun intended. Bitch.

By then I had completely forgotten there was even a movie playing. I had clamped both eyes shut, crossed my arms over my chest, wrapped around my bent knees, and was just rocking there in my chair, repeating the same line over and over in my head:

I knew I should have built that scare-spider I knew I should have built that scare-spider I knew I should have built that scare-spider.

For a moment, I was actually foolish enough to believe this simple gesture had caused all the bugs to leave me be—but then I felt something crawling around my palm … within my closed fist.

Slowly, I held the hand out in front of me and uncurled it, revealing a green-specked fly standing there on my skin, just staring me in the eyes. Trembling in fear, I waited for the creature to flee from my presence, but the crazy sonofabitch just stayed there looking at me. A few seconds later I couldn’t take it anymore and literally threw the fly away from me. It paused in midair and resumed flight … right back toward me.

It was about that then that I truly started freaking the fuck out. I will admit it right now: I threw a couple punches. Did I land any? Well, no. But I did show good form.

After a few dozen jabs resulting with zero success, I reached for the first thing in sight on my desk—a bottle of body spray. Now, at the time it seemed like the most logical choice of weaponry. What fly could withstand the might force of Fresh Blue Musk?

The answer to the above question is: NO FLY.


Keeping this in mind, I raised the bottle of body spray and gleefully pressed my finger down on the trigger—and it just may have worked, if it had actually murdered a bunch of insects like its intended use, rather than what it really did, which was eject a burst of foul mist right into my mouth.

I dropped the bottle and immediately started gagging.

Fly force fields! my mind screamed, until realizing that I had simply been holding the bottle backwards. Too late to try again, though. They were already swarming me and I needed to step my game up.

“I know!” I yelled to the flies. “WHO WANTS TO TASTE SOME FEBREEZE?”

I jumped up from my chair, plugged my A Christmas Story leg lamp in, and lunged for my closet to scavenge a can of Hawaiian Scented Febreeze. With a grin akin to insanity, I spun around with the can raised over my head, ready to kill every last one of them.

But they had vanished.

Just like that … gone. Or so I thought. A few moments later I was once again greeted with the hellish droning of a million (or maybe just three) flies raping my leg lamp; thrusting their tiny bodies against its glorious bulb.

“YOU LEAVE THAT LEG ALONE!” I screamed, and sprung forward with the can of Febreeze. I slammed my finger down on the trigger and immediately unleashed a toxic cloud of Hawaiian poison against my lamp. The flies tried to flee, but it was too late. I had them all in my radar now. They were not going to get away from me.

After about five minutes of constant spraying, I finally relented and sat down to take a break. Fly murdering is some tiring work, let me tell you. I noticed right off the bat there was a fly laying in the middle of my room, collapsed on its back with its little pathetic fly feet sticking up.

One down.

I spotted another one not too far away. Still alive, but crippled severely. It was just crawling on the floor, slowly and desperately. I rose from my chair and approached it. At first, I did nothing but watch. It was almost adorable, how it thought it could actually survive this night.


Not at this point. They have driven me way too far over the edge. I backed up to my desk, fumbling for the can of Febreeze again. ‘Anna was still watching the movie, throwing the odd “You’ve lost your mind” remark over her shoulder here and there. Clearly she was fly-proof or something, I don’t know. Maybe she was a double-agent and had been working with the bugs all along. I’ll have to save that investigation for another day, though.

I walked back toward the crippled fly no longer thinking like a normal human being. I closed in on the bug from above, bringing the can of Febreeze mere inches from its body, and … and … I blacked out. When I came to, there was the biggest puddle of air freshener on my floor, and the fly was floating in the middle of it. Somehow, in my midst of madness, I recorded a video of my crimes. I still can’t bring myself to watch it all the way through. It’s just … it’s just too much.

I sat back down on my chair, completely dazed. The can of Febreeze was shaking in my grasp. What had I done? This … this was unspeakable!

WHAT AM I?” I cried out.

“A murder-crazed lunatic,” ‘Anna helpfully suggested.

“Oh,” I said. “Thanks.”


I looked around, taking in the scene that I had created. It was horrible. It was inexcusable. It was utterly insa—

There was another one.

I spotted it on the other side of my room, next to my closet doors. It was on the floor, just … staring at me. To the average eye, it would have just seemed dead, but my 18th sense (fly-death detection, respectively) was able to observe perfectly well that the fly was still alive.

“I’ll be back,” I said.

“Whatever,” ‘Anna said.

I approached the fly and knelt down. We locked eyes for a long time, sharing a moment of total clarity. I understood then that those two other flies had been this fly’s parents, and now it had nowhere to go. It would have to drift among the world alone for the entirety of its last 24 hours of existence.

What kind of monster was I?

Answer: the fly massacring kind.

I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger on the Febreeze. A minute later, the can was empty, the fly had joined its parents, and my room smelled absolutely fabulous. I returned to my chair and told ‘Anna the job was done.

“Dude, the police will be here any minute,” she said. “You better start the crime scene investigation for them to get on their good side or they’re totally going to arrest you and probably rape you.”

“Oh,” I said, debating the chances of this actually happening. I decided it was very, very likely. “Good think.”


So that’s just what I did.


It did indeed save an arrest and possible rape, so for that I was thankful. As the police wrapped up the corpses and carried them away to the fly morgue, one of the detectives approached us for questioning. He wore a dark pair of sunglasses. Also, he was a spider.

After he was done with the initial questions, the spider detective said, “I am not sure you are aware of this, but by this massacre you have probably enraged the  fly population of the whole world. They are going to be bugging for you.”

“I know,” I said weakly.

“They’re totally going to kill him,” ‘Anna agreed.

“Probably,” the detective nodded. “Have you considered witness protection?”

“Your face is a witness protection,” I said.

“What?” the detective said.

“Nothing. I’m not leaving anywhere. I’m not afraid of any flies.”

“Yes you are,” ‘Anna said.


“He totally is,” she said.

“Yeah.” The detective nodded. “I can see that.”

The spider detective sighed and looked back at the chalked outlines of the fly corpses. He shook his head tiredly.

“You know, a simple scare-spider would have prevented all of this.”

“Dammit!” I said.

“Oh well,” he said. “It’s a good thing they weren’t prepared for … CSFly!