Beef House Basement: St. Peter, It’s Me: The Insurrection Guy Who Tased His Balls and Wiener So Hard That He Died. Let Me Be In Heaven.

Stories from the Beef House Basement are stories that, for one reason or another, never saw the light of day. When you are in the beef making business, sometimes you forget to sell beef. So it stays in the basement. Keep bouncing.

What I remember about this story is that McSweeneys almost took it but they said no because the guy died. If he didn’t die they would have taken it ☹️ 

Hi, sir. I just died. It was so scary. One minute I was with all my best friends doing something nice for our good President, and the next minute I’m being electrocuted right on my balls and penis. The minute after that minute? I am dead.

Who did it? Me. I electrocuted my balls and penis. I committed murder. I murdered myself.

But I didn’t mean to St. Peter! I was going to use that taser on someone else! But I flubbed up. I flubbed up bad. I must have gotten too worked up about fighting for my President, because that taser never left my pants pocket. I’ll give you one guess where that pants pocket was located.

You’re right. My pants pocket was right next to my penis and balls.

So now I’m right here in front of you, dead. That’s not where I wanted to be. I wanted to be in the Capitol building with my friends. But I’m here now. So I want to be in Heaven.

I’ve been good. I’ve posted a lot on Facebook and Parler about how much I love my President, and how mad I am at everyone for not loving the President. To me, that’s good. The only bad thing I’ve done was murder myself. And I didn’t even want to do that murder. I wanted to do other ones and I brought the taser so I could try and murder, but that didn’t happen. Also, I wanted to murder because I love the President. And the President said he loves me. So if I murder, that’s okay.

And also, we don’t even know for sure if it was me who tased my balls and wiener so hard that I had to die. Maybe ANTIFA made my pants so tight that when I bent over to grab my Icy Hot, the taser button would turn on. Do you think ANTIFA snuck into my motel room and made my pants too tight? I’m actually starting to think they did. And if that’s true, I guess you could say that ANTIFA shocked my balls so bad that they cooked my penis and I died.

St. Peter I’m so mad! ANTIFA tasered my balls and penis and they murdered me! And now I’m dead. Why would ANTIFA do this? 

You can’t let ANTIFA into Heaven, St. Peter. Not if I’m going to be there. The last thing I need is to be in Heaven and get my penis cooked by my balls by a taser and die again.

Let me in.