By Chet Haze
Shit, bro. I remember when I used to hold all the girls’ hands. And with my other hand, I’d be holding a Tamagotchi. I treated that thing better, if you know what I’m sayin’.
I was so torn at recess, yo. There were always some pretty fine honeys with Malibu-Rum-smooth hands, gathered around the hopscotch court, but me, I was the gangSTAR-ass player of the kickball team. And I couldn’t hold their hands and round the bases at the same time, if you feel me, because the girls couldn’t keep up with my mad speed. Nobody can.
And Pops, he was so busy starring in Saving Private Ryan and The Green Mile, he didn’t even know what little Chester was up to. He never thought of how that smooth little guy would be so much bigger than his father one day, as exclusive as a Pike party and as inclusive to beautiful bitches as I was to putting Gyrados in my Pokémon lineup. All I want to be is like Jessie Pinkman from Breaking Bad, bitch.
I’d squeeze the shit out of those little honeys’ hands. They went crazy when me and my boy band, Chet Haze and the Little Four, performed at the talent show. When you hold that many hands, bro, you gotta thank God you got a cootie shot.