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Dommie
Dommie
delivers pizza pies for Domino's Pizza Company. Domino's may or
may not know that Dommie does this. Officially, the company has no
comment on Dommie or the things he writes on this site. As a matter of
fact, they've asked that their fine company's name not be mentioned on
here, but that doesn't seem to stop Dommie from writing about them and
his supposed adventures as a pie deliveryman.
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Favorite Pie: |
Half pep, half peroni. |
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Favorite
Delivery Vehicle: |
1982 Plymouth Doister with no doors, windows,
or wheels. |
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Least Favorite
Customer: |
"Any customer who treats his or her pie as if
it were their own child - throwing it around the room and
slobbering over it like some kind of angry simpleton." |
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Least Favorite Employee: |
"Barry the Delivery Dispatcher
because he thinks he can control my pie-dispensing." |
All of Dommie's Untold Secrets...Told!
Ever wonder why your significant
other doesn't satisfy you? Or why you wake up in the middle of the
night and feel like you should be somewhere else, be someone else,
as fresh piss stains the inside-leg of your pajamas and your lover
farts in the darkness? Ever wonder why you feel an empty hole
somewhere in the middle of your stomach, and you can't figure out
why cocaine-laced cigarettes and cheap booze can't make it go away?
Ever catch a tiny scent on the wind that you can't define, but which
both arouses you and makes you hunger for something unknown?
continue...
Dommie’s Economic Plan for Earth
Well, here I am again, and again
you people have me complaining about the goose crap lives that you all
are existing in. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve seen them all, so don’t
think I don’t have the authority to talk about it. I’ve delivered my
pies to everyone from millionaires with their testicles covered in
golden rubies to the lowliest hovel where the only reason the husband
and wife have children is so that they can use them as food in the
harsh wintertime.
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Please Quit Dumping Doo Doo on Dommie!
Here’s a fundamental question: Should
children be allowed to order pizza pies? I know what you’re thinking -
children are growing beings, they’re trying to reach adulthood, they
need to make their skin expand before their insides pop out of their
belly buttons.
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When One Paw Paw Dies, Dommie Just Orders Up Another One!
I woke up this morning with a
triple-cheese thin-crust pizza pie covering my face and upper-neck
area. I guess I fell asleep reading it earlier in the night. I don’t
really remember. That’s what happens to me when I consume heavy
amounts of garlic sauce.
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Stop Ordering Pies and
Dommie’s Heart Stops With You
So here's your
situation: It's a Saturday night and you're fresh in from a
hard evening of soccer at the co-ed field where you got your ass
kicked in by a thousand of the opponents' cleats. You're sore as hell
from the loss of blood and victory. You're more than likely retarded
from a life’s worth of neglect and you're as hungry as a pig on a
tiled floor just cleaned by Mr. Clean himself.
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Smile, You’re on the Dommie-Cam!
Sometimes, when I think that I’m being
scammed on a delivery, I’ll stop by the nearest rabbit cemetery in the
local area, dig up a freshly slaughtered cotton tail, pull out
whatever doo doo is left in the funny creature’s digestive system, and
then I insert it gently into one of the pizza pies. Now, the trick is
finding a rabbit that has been recently laid to rest, because you
can’t find creamy pellets of crammed doopy if all you’re digging up is
bones.
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It’s Time For Dommie to Deliver Some
Just Desserts!
Well, my manager, Tom, is irritating the
literal piss out of my urethra. He’s never made a delivery in the
entire course of his fattened life, yet he expects to tell me how to
run mine! Who does he think he is?
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Get the Door, It's Dommie!
As I promised, here's your
article. Right on time! And don't question me on what I mean by that
because I stopped kidding with folks a very long time ago. When I got
my wheels on my 16th birthday, I left behind every kidder I could and
headed straight to the pizza place.
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