you know you wanna read this

so last week my english teacher decided he didn*t feel well and didn*t want to teach. he wrote a bunch of critera on the board and told us to make a creative, entertaining story using the specifics he outlined. they were to include: a man named Franz who didn*t like the renaissance, a man Seymour who did like it, a monkey, a bomb ticking in the basement, a fast car, diamonds and rubies, a woman who was hurt by learning, and some dialogue… the following is my story…
back in tha day of da renaissance, there was this homeboy named Franz and his gay lover Seymour. they were always fighting, much like any married couple of the time. Franz was an international drug dealer who*s primary concern was living up to Ludacris’ popular song which goes “i*ve got hoes in different area codes…” of course, his “life partner” Seymour was very unhappy about all this, but since Franz’s substantial street-pharmacists income allowed for a luxurious life style of diamonds, rubies, and fast cars, he kept his mouth shut for the most part. you see, Seymour was a lover of the art of the times, and enjoyed going to all t
hose renaissancey-type things that they had back then. Franz only cared about money and ho*s. one day, after a particularly bad night on the streets, Franz came home with a talking monkey in his arms. Seymour bugged out of course, because the monkey couldn*t really talk, but since Franz was tripping face at the time, he could and did carry out full conversations with his “monk-boy-toy” this made for an interesting conversation between the two. Seymour let Franz have it. first, he pimp-slapped Franz upside the head and exclaimed “Yo B why you always gotta be playin me tha foo’ for these damn bitches? I ain*t carin’ about yo’ hizo*s, why you not showin’ me some mo’ lovin’ like i deserve?” Franz simply replied “’cause i be tha shiznat up in this piece and girl you know i*m hot like fiya.” Seymour sighed and gave up, he knew their differences could never be reconciled. maybe some couples therapy was what they needed, but Franz was quite the stud and he was happy to have him as his bitch. After they made up from the little spat, Franz decided to go for a ride in his 900+h horsepower RB26DETT V-Spec R-34 Nissan Skyline GT-R; the hottest and most bad-ass car to ever come out of the renaissance. as he was cruisin’ tha strip lookin’ for some man-ho*s to add to his own collection, Franz spotted a woman with one arm trying to catch a ride on the side of the road. usually he wouldn*t
stop for a chick, but the “vroom-psssh” of the car*s twin turbo setup and blow off valve had put him in a generous mood. he pulled over. the lazy woman only needed a ride to the local McDonalds, and on the way she explained about the arm. “I hurt myeslf learning how to disassemble this bomb i heard ticking in the basement” (the bomb was really an alarm clock but in the renaissance, those hippies could make anything possible) on his way back home, Franz beat a Toyota Supra TT in a streetrace and won two G*s AND outran the cops on his tail. he got back to the crib 20 minutes later with the cash. to celebrate, Franz and Seymour went to a romantic dinner at the Olive Garden and they lived happily ever after. the end.
my teachers comment? “excellent”
i love college…

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