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  • Links
  • About
  • Video
  • Audio
  • Found
  • Comics
  • Words
    • Scott Poem
    • God Looks Through Ozone Hole
    • Infant's Finger Painting
    • Lady Satan Rehashed
    • Poltergeist Proof
    • Innocent Goat Man
    • Bowl of Mush
    • 200 Celebration
    • Earthworms
    • Why My Willy is Like Icons of the 70's
    • AI Writes Transformative Hotdog Song
    • Ghost of Widow's Husband
    • Babies Are Useless
    • Monk Urine Is Cleaner
    • George Santos Lies
    • BTS: What Does it Mean
    • Zookeeper Cuts Off Arm
    • HYDROMAN REHASHED
    • I Watch the Super Bowl
    • Tales of Terror - Hold My Hand
    • Oh How He Sat
    • The Change
    • You Got the Lyrics Wrong, Dilweed
    • Woman Chokes on Fortune Cookie
    • The Moon Must Be Stopped
    • Quora Questions
    • My Husband's Inappropriate Remarks
    • Family is a Cult
    • The Price of Success
    • Tales of Terror: The Baby
    • Spot the Differences Army of Darkness
    • I'm All Over It
    • Automatic Thank You Letter
    • Clueless Man
    • What's Buggin You?
    • Child's Playmate is Son of Satan
    • Ask An Expert
    • True Tales of Terror: High Beams
    • Slander Zendaya Buries Puppies Alive
    • Henry Cavill Fired as Superman: Races to Horse to be Paralyzed
    • Crappy Little Free Library Is No Amazon
    • Christmas Wish List
    • Extremist Americans Furious With Extremist Germans
    • Batman vs Hulk
    • Elon Musk Fires Himself
    • Congrats on Your Dumb Baby
    • What I'm Thankful For
    • Donald Trump Blames Matrix
    • Terror Within
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    • After All
    • Elf on a Shelf Spin Offs
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    • Baby Poetry
    • Florence of Arabia
    • Alec Baldwin Ten Percent
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    • Breakfast Theresa
    • Sexy Demogorgon
    • Where Is My Toe
    • Pinocchio Protest
    • Vegas Disasters
    • Cosby Helps with Anesthesia Shortage
    • Taco Bell Toilet Suicide
    • Ukrainian Mad about Plants
    • Horror For Kids
    • Slander: Britney Spears
    • Elevator Operator
    • Chickens
    • Risk He Had To Take
    • Best Horror
    • Slander: Harry Styles
    • Beautiful Pony
    • Top Ten Wife TV
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YOUR CART

Rich Wealthy Man in a tuxedo with a drink and a cigar

THE PRICE OF SUCCESS

The fancy, sophisticated, rich-people party was well under way as billionaire bon vivant Rodrick P. Witherington helped himself to a large dollop of Beluga caviar atop an artisanal cracker.
 
“Excuse me, Mr. Witherington, sir?” a small voice mewled from behind him.
 
Witherington turned to find a young man, eager and sweaty, pawing at his trousers.
 
“I wanted to know the secret,” the young man panted. “The secret to your vast and unimaginable wealth and success.”
 
Despite his disgust with the poor unwashed dolt at his feet, Witherington smiled and gave the same answer he always did.
 
“Fish.”
 
And before the sniveling plebe could inquire further, Witherington explained himself.
 
“Most young men like yourself spend an inordinate amount of time trying to impress women, woo women, bed women -- time that could be spent more productively in the amassing of power, riches, and prosperity. So, at the tender age of eighteen, I swore off women and devoted myself to money-making enterprises. And obviously, my strategy worked. Of course, every man has certain biological needs that must be sated, so I relieved myself every week into the freshest catch of the day.”
 
“Excuse me?” the young man stammered, drooling onto his inexpensive cotton shirt.
 
“Yes, I engaged in sexual relations with fish that I procured from the nearby market. While not entirely satisfying, it did serve its purpose. I was able to focus exclusively on money-making ventures without worrying about the ramifications of canoodling with the fairer sex, i.e. pregnancy, venereal diseases, broken hearts, and whatnot. My, dare I say, perfect system allowed me to become one of the richest men in the world with absolutely no repercussions or untoward consequences whatsoever.”
 
And with that, a smug Witherington lifted his hors d’oeuver to take a well-deserved bite, only to be interrupted by the high-pitched cries of recognition coming from the dark, round delicacies atop the cracker. 
 
“Daddyyyyyyyyy!”

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