The Story of Our Fucking Life Together

Something I randomly came up with a year ago and only just now got around to writing it.

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Our story begins at a fucking party. I’m fucking wasted and you’re fucking easy. Our eyes meet across the fucking room and I put my fucking moves on you for about ten fucking seconds until you give in to me. Right after I throw the fuck up, we go into an empty bedroom and we fuck.

I don’t see you for two fucking weeks and then we meet again at yet another fucking party. This time we act like less of complete fucking morons and actually fucking talk to each other. We discover we really fucking like each other and embark on a beautiful fucking relationship. Until we break up eight months later because I fucking cheat on you while drunk with that girl you’ve always fucking hated.

One fucking year later, we meet by accident and decide to have a fucking coffee. I apologize about how fucking stupid I was and I admit that I still fucking love you. You also admit that you still have fucking feelings for me, but that you need some more fucking time to think things through. Five minutes later, we’re fucking in the back of my car. We fucking get back together.

Three fucking years later, we get married and go on a fucking honeymoon in the Caribbean, which is fucking amazing. When we come back, we buy a fucking house and we both love it, except for the wine cellar which you fucking hate because you think it’s too fucking creepy. I tell you to grow the fuck up and we don’t have sex for a week. We buy a fucking dog, we name him Milo and we fucking love him and take good care of him and treat him like a fucking family member.

We have three fucking kids and we try very fucking hard to raise them to be good fucking kids, not like the other little fuckers in the neighborhood whose parents are fucking idiots. We teach them to be fucking polite, get good grades, never resort to violence and never fucking swear. They become fucking teenagers and ignore everything we tell them and it makes us want to fucking kill them. Still, we fucking love them.

The fucking dog dies and we’re all very fucking sad. We bury him in our fucking yard next to a tall tree and six days later our fucking neighbors’ fucking kid digs him up by fucking accident and doesn’t stop crying for five fucking days. We bury the dog again and the next fucking night there’s a fucking rainstorm straight from fucking hell which rips the tree out of the fucking ground and the fucking dog along with it. The next morning, I take the fucking dog and throw him in a fucking dumpster behind a KFC. You don’t have sex with me for a month and the kids vow to never fucking speak to me again. I’m wondering whether I should be upset or fucking glad.

Our kids grow up to be great fucking people and we finally get along again. They each move the fuck out, get married and have fucking children of their own. We fucking retire and go traveling around the fucking world, but we return earlier than fucking expected because I accidentally break my fucking hip by falling in the fucking toilet while trying to fucking pee in the dark one night, since I can’t fucking pee standing up anymore and the fucking toilet seat was up.

At the age of eighty-fucking-three I have a fucking heart-attack at my fucking grandson’s birthday when the champagne bottle fucking pops. I’m rushed to the fucking hospital and the doctors manage to fucking stabilize me and they say I have to stay in the fucking hospital for the next few days for observation. I manage to fall asleep, in spite of all your fucking crying. That night, I die in my fucking sleep, surrounded by my loving family. I die happy and with no fucking regrets. Sixty years together and I still love you just as much as I ever did.

The story of our fucking life together.

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