PART 21.

For those of you taking wagers on how long it takes to drive a Nigerian scammer lawyer to their boiling point. The answer is 21 episodes. Read on. This might be a long one, but I’m gonna go ahead and post the whole thing cause it might be the last one.

To recap, on PART 17 I told Theresa’s Father’s Lawyer, Mr. Sam Larry Cole, about my dire penis condition. I had developed a growth on my wang that I was too embarrassed to talk to Theresa about, and I thought he might be able to give me some honest man-to-man advice on what to do about it. Unfortunately, I was guessing due to his extensive attorney duties, he became too busy and forgot to reply.

In the meantime, Theresa had sent me the lawyer’s mailing address (Part 19), but I was a little confused because the address was listed under a different name, so I had to hit up Mr. Sam Larry Cole again to clarify things. I took the opportunity to remind him once again of my now worsening condition, for it was not only affecting my health, but also my livelihood:

“Distinguished, Mr. Sam Larry Cole Okay,

My dearest and truest totally legitimate wife, Mrs. Theresa Lawson, gave me an address to mail you money but the name she gave me to send the money to is totally different than yours. She wants me to send it to a person named “Bella Cody”. That doesn’t even sound like a man’s name. I tried to explain to her that your name is Mr. Sam Larry Cole Okay, but whatever glue she’s snorting has proven too potent for me to talk any sense into her. She keeps insisting I send the money there. In any case, I just need your real address so I can send you the money.

Since I didn’t hear back from you I ended up having to send most of my money to Burkina Faso for my $2 million deal there, but like I told Theresa, my dick sucking business is through the roof lately so I should have enough money to send out soon. I could make a lot more money a lot faster though if I could branch out my business. Unfortunately I’ve had to put my ass fucking business on hold because of my penis condition, and I’m also losing a fair amount of money from customers who prefer me to be the dick suckee. Nobody wants to blow a ween with a giant replica of Mount Etna protruding from its surface. I really need your advice, man. Things aren’t getting any better and I’m losing money by the day. You’re the only guy I can talk to about this. For obvious reasons I don’t want to mention it to my wife.

Man to man, what would be your advice? It’s starting to feel like I’m peeing barbed wire and I’ve never had my piss look so green. I’m gonna send you an updated drawing of what my ween is looking like. I hope to hear from you soon. I really need your help! Please tell me what to do!


Mr. Theresa Lawson.”

I attached the following illustration with my email:

On a positive note, I'm quite happy with how my pubic hair is coming along.

His reply:

“Yes that is my p a address Okay,,,,,that is where you going to send the money to Okay.”

And that was it! No advice at all! Naturally, I was pretty disappointed with his reply, so I hit him back up. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was just in a hurry when he first replied:

“Ok, but about my penis though, what do you think is going on? what do you think I should do about my penis wart/pimple/growth/horrifying mutation?”

And that’s when the shit hit the fan. He wasn’t busy. He just didn’t care!:


And that’s when I lost it myself:

“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN! I’m sitting here with my Dick about to fall off and you think I’m playing Games??? You Cocksucker, I don’t know what kind of depraved hobbies you’re into in Nigeria, but over here COCK ROT isn’t exactly the National Pastime! Maybe you’re desensitized to STD’s since every other piece of poon there is served with a side of AIDS, but to me this is SERIOUS BUSINESS! Excuse Me for thinking you might be able to help. I figured somebody from the continent that invented HIV might know a thing or two about curing venereal diseases. You gotta have some kind of voodoo remedy to deal with this shit, like dipping my dick in a jar filled with hyena blood, or eating a live mongoose’s colon, or rubbing the wound with the clit of a circumcised virgin. Something! But NOOOOO. You, sir, chose to be an Asshole instead! I hope your scrotum gets chewed off by a rabid wild boar!

I’m gonna have to see a doctor now and over here in what we call CIVILIZATION you can’t just go over to the local clinic/mud hut and pay off the witchdoctor with three chickens and a goat. They make you pay CASH, Lots of Cash! I was gonna send you $500, but now I’m gonna have to spend that money on a fucking dick doctor.

So fuck you Mr Sam Larry Cole Okay, or should I say Mr. Fucking Motherfucker Fuck Face Shithead Cunt (you see what I did there? I replaced the words in your name with expletives in a sign of disrespect!) Me and my wife don’t need You or her stupid Father’s money. I’ve got $2 MILLION coming my way from Burkina Faso soon.

With that kind of money I can get a giant nuclear powered robot cock that shoots transcontinental laser guided cum missiles. And, Sir, know this! Upon full installation of my robot cock my first order of business will not be to make love to my bride. NO. It will not even be to pleasure myself erotically. Oh No! Once my robot cock is attached and fully functional, I will proceed to step outdoors, whip out my fully armed erect manrod and point it towards the skies at a predetermined angle in a predetermined direction. At that point, in a moment that will be remembered for generations, my robot cock will begin to unleash the most massive payload of spooge rockets ever witnessed by man. Missile after missile of my potent man chowder will flow out of my wide open wang silo forming a glorious creamy arch spanning the Atlantic Ocean. Spectators watching from the far reaches of space would see a nut rainbow arising in America and descending in Africa. But at the end of this rainbow there will be no Gold! Oh No! There will only be the pathetic image of your dirty whore face getting buried under layer after layer of my all-mighty manseed. By the time this moneyshot to end all moneyshots is complete, you’ll look like Han Solo suspended in time and frozen solid under the carbonite of my jizzum. You’ll be forever remembered as the first man to ever drown in a sea of human ejaculate!

As the unholy SATAN is my witness, this will come to pass. I Swear on the Rotting Carcass of my Mongoloid Father!

Good Day, SIR!”

The Gateway Arch meets Peter North.

(Originally posted June 17, 2010)

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