One of my first attempts at writing a comedy piece, please tear it apart.

Hey guys, I've recently gotten really into writing, and I've taken a class available at my school for creative writing, however this is my first piece made with the purpose of making people laugh. I can be quite a joker in real life, all my friends think I'm funny and if possible I plan on using this, and other pieces I will write as bits in a comedy show if I get the chance. I'm worried about my ability to transfer my sense of humor into my writing, and my writing style in general. So while reviewing this keep in mind that this is sort-of a script/outline of something I would be presenting out loud in the form of stand-up.

TL;DR: ^^^Doesn't really matter, first time writing funny shit, I hope it's funny, but if it's not, let me know. Be grammar nazi's if you so desire, but I can do that on my own, this is about content for now.

link in case you wanna follow on tumblr. http://johnkilledgod.tumblr.com/post/13578428302/lunchbox-torture-and-morphine-justice-rough-draft

If I were somehow able to re-live a whole 24 hours of my existence, I would probably re-do my whole first day I took the bus to school in Kindergarten. The particular event I would change lies in the morning bus-ride. This kid Michael came onto the bus looking nervous and awkward and carrying some big plastic Spongebob lunchbox. He parked his ass down next to me, and we both read off of the scripts our mothers and fathers had fed us about how to make friends. Kindergarteners usually are known for doing jerk-off level retarded shit. They’re also known for possessing comedy skills that can rival that of the 700 club, and no that’s certainly not a compliment, or a good combination.

So, being a retarded socially non-adjusted piece of shit five year old, I tried to be funny. My great idea - put this in the textbooks - was to take the kids big ass plastic lunchbox and hit him with it, about 15 times. Of course Michael started to cry, because all five year olds cry when nearly anything happens to them, because all five year olds are total pussies. Anywho, after that incident I certainly learned that hitting people, especially with big heavy objects, was a “no-no.”

So the one thing in my life I would have changed, is that I wouldn’t have slaughtered the kid with his own meal container. First of all, it makes me less of a dick, second, this shit actually affected our lives for years. The little faggot went home and told his Mommy on me, which held more weight then having your dick cut off back then. His Mommy and my Mommy then decided they wouldn’t like each other, because of course “I would never do such a thing” according to my mom, and Mike’s mom was complaining that “Your little hellspawn broke the laws of the fucking geneva convention with that lunch box and should be sentenced to life in Askaban” and I THINK that’s an exact quote, stay classy.

The first incident of this affecting me was one time when we were both attending a Boy Scout meeting about 4 months later. We were 5, we didn’t even remember what happened four hours before naptime, let alone some silly tiff from four god-damned months ago. Our parents got into an argument about who’s kid had the bigger dick (I’m assuming). Somehow this argument escalated into the battle of the damn titans and nothing’s been the same ever since. My mom made me hate that family more than Hitler hated the Jews, and I’m not even completely kidding. I ended up bullying that kid and ruining his social life up until the 8th grade, and in the process I made myself look like a complete dickhole.

One day however, I realized “Wow, I’m a fucking tool, I should grow the fuck up, because this kid isn’t all that bad” and then he said “Yeah I was wondering when you were gonna grow out of it, it was pretty retarded. Wanna be friends?” and we almost lived happily ever after. For some reason, still unknown to me, my mother never let go of that grudge, and even though we liked each other, I wasn’t allowed to associate with him outside of school according to my mother. Her reason being that Mike’s mom was a “crazy fucking whorebag” or something like that - just easy enough for a 12 year old to understand but just funny and batshit insane enough for me to tell this story about it. Anyways, I started hanging out with the kid more in high school, and he certainly wasn’t my best friend, but I liked him and he liked me and that was good enough for us.

This also impacted me physically. We were poor, and part of being poor meant we couldn’t afford snowblowers, which was bad because our driveway took 7 hours to shovel in the winter, and I had to shovel it mostly by myself. Mike offered to plow us out for free as long as we called him and asked. Ofcourse my mother wouldn’t bite, she was to proud, and I have no clue of what. My father and I hurt ourselves and missed many important events (like Survivor re-runs) because of those 7 hours of shoveling.The only good things that came from all that shoveling were that my jerking off arm became stronger, and I got better at pissing my name in the snow, nothing else good came. Infact many bad things came, my father got very sick from being in the snow sometimes and I fucked up my back and legs quite a bit over the years.

On another note, don’t even get me started on all the birthday parties I missed, and how many times he wasn’t allowed at my party to give me free things. There’s nothing worse when you’re a kid then missing a birthday party. Actually, I lied, there are plenty of things worse, like getting cancer, or loosing your favorite power ranger. However, missing a birthday was among the top 10 of reasons to throw a temper tantrum, and to let your parents know that you can say certain four letter words too. So if I could go back in time and change one thing, I would have NOT hitten Mike 15 times with a plastic lunchbox.

Alright, I lied again, hitting people is fun, and that story is kind of funny to think back on, now that I’m thinking about it. On second though I would actually just have given my mother some morphine on the day we went to that cubscout meeting, so our two drama queen mothers wouldn’t have made their own make-shift Jerry Springer episode. I would have ended up being friends with the kid, getting free toys, go to his birthdays, POSSIBLY been less of a prick throughout my childhood, and not have hurt my back shoveling snow every damn winter. Moral of the story: Morphine IS useful for some things besides date-rape and you can permanently damage a childhood with just a single lunchbox, but seriously, PARENTS THIS IS WHY YOUR KIDS STOP TELLING YOU SHIT WHEN THEY HIT PUBERTY, IT’S BECAUSE YOU FUCK EVERYTHING UP.