after my exit interview

two guys took me into a tiny little room and tried to prove that i was gay.

you’re gay.

no im not.

yes you are.

no im not.

you were a poetry major.

i did it to be near girls.

you were good at poems.

i was good at everything.

gay guys are good at everything.

not knowing about sports.

what about costas?

costas was gay?

you tell us.

fellas, im not gay.

do you like art?

everyone likes art!

do you like quiche?

do you like quiche?

shut up and tell us you’re gay.

fine, youre gay.

did you go to a lot of foreign films?

just to impress the ladies

maybe he’s bi.

are you bi?

not even a little.

would you make out with a guy to get to have sex with the hottest chick in the world?

hmmmm, let me think. maybe.

ok youre gay.

making out doesnt make you gay.

yes it does.

well if you do it for like an hour, maybe.

even for five minutes.

then i guess im not gay cuz i havent even done it for 5 minutes.

4 minutes?


3 minutes?

is that an invite?

youre so gay.

you two ever go to Wendys?

of course.

theres a salad bar at Wendys, you two ever went up there and gave the man a few bucks to eat at the salad bar?


me neither. always wanted a burger of some sort, and i always wanted pussy whenever i got hard.

theres a special place in Hell for the gays.

then i guess im not special.

got that right, sweetheart.

and then they kissed me.

the nirvana message board

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