A Man Is Interviewed On The Street About His Tax Refund

“Excuse me sir, may I have permission to interview you for Channel 5 news? We’re doing a segment on what people will be spending their tax refund on this year.”

“Yeah, sure, and hey, I gotta tell you, that piece you did on skimpy bathing suits during sweeps week? Boy, did I use a lot of tissues! It literally was a real pleasure to watch.”


“You’re blushing. Must be real bad if I can notice through all that pancake mixture on your face. Why use so much cement? Hide the wrinkles, laugh lines, cancerous spots? You TV people get a discount at Lowes, Home Depot?'”

“It’s—it’s—ah—never mind. Your name please?”

“Miles. Miles Pulsalot”

“Are you kidding?”

“Wish I was. High school was a nightmare. Could be worse, though, could be Miles Suxcocsalot.”

“Ok—Mr—uh—may I call you Miles?”

“Sure, why not, as long as I can call you later.”

“Ack!—cough—sputter—Miles, what are you going to spend your tax refund on this year?”

“That’s easy. A Real Doll”

“A what? A doll?

“No, a Real Doll. Don’t you know what that is? Never heard of it? No? Oh, well, you know what a blow up doll is, yes?”


“A Real Doll is a thousand times better. More realistic. I’m gonna save a lot of money over time, even if it is expensive to buy in the short term. All my refund’s going to that baby.”

“How so?”

“Well, I calculated how much I spent on crack whores this past year, and, wow, I got the shock of my life. Renting the whore, buying the crack, using all that gas going to the free clinic, antibiotics. A Real Doll’s gonna save me major bucks, plus she’ll be disease free, and I’ll never have to worry about getting arrested, and, or imprisoned for purchasing crack. Never have to see a slum, or ghetto again, unless I accidentally watch CNN, nuthin’ but positive all way around. Why I didn’t think of it before is beyond me. Probably due to all those STD’s. How come nobody’s come up with a chem strip that can be inserted into a woman’s vagina that can tell you whether she’s clean, or not? Focusing too much on boners, I’ll bet.”

“Chr–I mean, can’t you show just a little respect for women?”

“I do respect women. I respect my Mom, and my sisters, Angie, and Rachel, hey, you two, keep ’em closed, remember Betsy and her fertile womb, don’t travel that hellacious road. Betsy’s got more kids than there are pundits on Fox, and CNN. That’s another plus for a Real Doll, no missed monthly’s, no wailing, peeing, pooping blobs of brainless life sucking, wallet emptying shysters who take up space like huge bowel movements blocking a toilet. Flush ’em if ya got ’em, I say.”

“God, I’ll bet you voted for Him.”

“Obama? Sure did. I voted for hope and change, got the same old, same old.”

“You know who I mean—“

“Does his name rhyme with rump, speaking of which, you have a nice one. Round and firm. I DVR’d your sweeps week segment on the best beaches, and that thong bikini was spectacular. TV screen is globby, now with so muc-“

“Stop! Just stop!”

“Oh, yes, I did get a little off track, there, didn’t I? I respect Shelia at work. She’s nice, and kind, and helpful, got a body on her, she does. She squatted down to pick up some papers she dropped and I got a glimpse of her Hanes Her Way’s. Thank God there’s private bathrooms at work-“

“Jesus, how many times”

“How many times, what?”

“Do you masturbate? Seems like every minute.”

“As much as any man, I guess. Ask your cameraman. Hey, buddy, how many times do you stroke it?”

“Don’t answer! Don’t answer!”

“Fine, fine, anyway, crack whores-“

“Sex workers!”

“Crack sex workers doesn’t have the same resonance, loses something, rhythmic I’d say. It wasn’t always like that, you know. I would get a regular wh-sex worker, but every time I dropped my pants, they’d coo, and say “aw, look at the widdle pee-pee, look at the widdle pee-pee!” Didn’t give refunds, either. Now a crack whore, sorry, it’s easier on the tongue, well she’ll not say anything, won’t be no laughing, joking, and she’ll do anything. During the first phase of negotiations, she’ll tell me which orifice is off limits, but as soon as I show her the baggies of Heaven, she’ll strip, lay on the floor, spread her lips, her cheeks, and have her mouth wide open for some-“

“Jesus Christ, you are a horrible man!”

“Why, because I like to fuck?”

“You’re a misogynist! A sexist pig! God, you’re as bad as my co-workers!”

“Oh, slip up there, hey? Lucky this isn’t live, huh. Can edit it out. No-one will be the wiser.”

“Fuck you, you woman hating little piece of shit!”

“Now wait a minute, woman hating? What else is the vagina for, hmmm? Inserting a penis, and expelling a bundle of joyless globs you all call children? You’re married, aren’t you? You let hubby inside, or is it just your fingers, dildos, and various vegetables?”

“How dare you!”

“Cammyman thought it was funny.”

“Leonard, stop laughing! Stop it! Men, you’re all the same! Sex, sex, sex on the brain!”

“My Victoria won’t be like you-“

“What? Who’s Victoria?”

“My Real Doll, it’ll be the name I give her when she’s finally purchased. Now, before your mind goes to the gutter, I’m not naming her after the panties, I’m naming her after Queen Victoria, give her a certain royal mystique, though maybe I should change it since she can’t move on her own, or anything, lifeless, inanimate, so, maybe change her name to Princess Di, well, the Princess Di after the crash-“

“Jesus! You sick bastard!”

“Too soon? Would you like to hear a holocaust joke instead?”

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, you, you, arrrgghhh, you make me sick!”

“Not gonna make the cut, then?’

“No, Hell no!”

“Ah, well, your loss. Goodnight everybody!”

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *