National holidays usually find us drunk, belligerent, and in no mood to take shit from trash-talking, 50 cent juice drinking, punk motherfuckers who should know better. Here, for your pleasure and potential use, are a series of “last words that piece of shit is ever gonna hear” for each Holiday.
New Year’s Day: If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth, I’m going to grind you up and use you as fertilizer for the flowers I’m going to put on next year’s Pasadena Small Business Owner’s Association float for the Rose Parade.
Martin Luther King Day: I have a dream that one day, you’ll wise up and shut your goddamn mouth. I have a dream that clowns like you will one day vanish from the face of the earth. I have a dream that every five-dollar dipshit like yourself will take a step the fuck back, because they realize… that I’m their worst god-damn nightmare.
Groundhog Day: (for use when threatening a groundhog, or similar good-for-nuthin’ rodent motherfuckers) You better get your buck-toothed ass back down in that hole, or the last shadow you’re going to see will be of me standing behind you with this here shotgun. (provided you have a shotgun, if not substitute with any heavy gardening equipment)
Valentine’s Day: You better watch yourself little man, or the only Valentine’s Day gift your wife is gonna get next year will be the complimentary Russel Stovers they pass out at the Widows Support Group meeting.
President’s Day: Some dumbass: “What are you lookin’ at?” You: “I cannot tell a lie, I’m lookin’ at some dumbass who just spoke his last words.”
Mardi Gras: I’m going to give your sad, sorry looking ass the benefit of the doubt and assume that when you threw those silly fucking beads in my direction you meant it as a gesture of respect, because that’s what people do in whatever rotten shithole of a country you’re from as a way of acknowledging how excruciatingly painful the last sorry seconds of their lives would be if they pulled some sort of stunt with a bad- motherfucker like me. Because I will guarantee you, son, that the only flash you’ll see from me will come from the barrel of my .45 pointed right at your sorry-ass kneecap.
St. Patrick’s Day: You must not be Irish my friend, because your luck just ran the fuck out.
April Fool’s Day: You: You know, I’m in a good mood, in fact, I feel great. So, since I don’t want to spoil this fine, lovely temperament, I’m not going break both your legs and throw you in the river, I’m just going to let you go. Some Clown: R-R-Really? You: Yeah, now you just go on your way, and we’ll forget this ever happened. (“Some Clown” walks quickly towards the door only to notice that it’s locked from the outside) You: April Fools, motherfucker.
OR: Fool my once? Shame on you. Fool me twice? You’s a dead motherfucka
Good Friday: Today ain’t your day my friend, because I’m a Roman Centurian re-enactor and the guy who plays Jesus just called in sick.
Easter Sunday: One more peep out of you, cocksucker, and I’ll leave your body in the park for the kids to find on their Easter Egg hunt.
Tax Day: It’s tax day, motherfucker, and I’ve come to collect.
Earth Day: D’you know how I like to celebrate Earth Day? By putting dipshits like you in the ground. And then planting trees.
Cinco De Mayo: Feliz Cinco de DIE-O, cabron.
Mother’s Day: I’m going to hit you so hard your mother’s uterus is gonna feel it.
Memorial Day: You had better remember one thing little man, if you ever forget who you’re talking to again, I’m going to burn my name onto your forehead with a blowtorch, ya hear?
Flag Day: (Ideal if you have an irreverent neighbor named “Mr. Tanner”) ——— The way I see it, Mr. Tanner, is you’ve got three choices: 1.) Properly illuminate the Stars and Stripes that you have erected in your front yard 2.) Remove and properly store Old Glory at night and during inclement weather, or 3.) I turn you into a scar-spangled Tanner.
Father’s Day: When I’m done with you, those incoherent scribble drawings you made as a kid that your Daddy still hangs up in his office are going to look like self-portraits.
The Fourth of July: When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for guys like me to dissolve the sinewy bands which have connected some motherfucker like yourself with his balls and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them to cut off some-clown-who-don’t-know-how-to-ackrite’s balls, a decent respect to how fucking serious I am right now requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation of some motherfucker like you and his balls.
I hold these truths to be self-evident: That you’re a clown who messed with the wrong man, that you gonna die tonight, and that before you do I’m gonna cut your balls off with a rusty pair of rusty school scissors.
Ramadan: I hoped you liked yesterday’s dinner enough for it to be your last meal, because your ass is dead before sundown.
Labor Day: I’ve got some good news and some bad news for ya, Carl. The good news is that Labor Day is a Federal Holiday, and that the hulking barbarian motherfuckers I would normally employ to go ape-shit on your ass with a pair of garden shears and a couple of tube socks stuffed with spent D-Cell batteries are currently enjoying the long weekend with their families. The bad news, Carl, is that I’m gonna have to do this myself… and I hate working on my day off.
Columbus Day: Look at me again with that miserable piss-ant face of yours and you will discover a new world of pain.
Halloween: Some clown: “Hey asshole, you’re not in costume” You: “Yes I am” Some clown: “What are you then?” You: “Well, normally I dress like an axe-murderer, but tonight I’m dressed as a guy who doesn’t spend his weekends hacking apart clowns like you, and their clown-shoes-wearing families, and piling their bodies up into a mass grave out in the woods… but, then, it’s only a costume.”
Election Day: It looks like you’ve got two options: Vote, or Die. And I used up our last ballots mopping up the remains of the last fool who walked in here without proof of valid registration in this district.
Veterans Day: The next time you see me, Charlie, you will be tied to a chair in the basement of our local VFW and you’re gonna meet some friends of mine… and my friends don’t take too kindly to guys named Charlie, Charlie.
Thanksgiving: Every year, the President of the United States officially pardons a turkey. But I ain’t no President of the United States, and you don’t look like no god-damned turkey to me.
Christmas time: If you keep talking to me like you’re some sort of bad-ass then people are going to wake up tomorrow and wonder why there’s a fucking corpse sprayed all over the nativity scene outside city hall.
Christmas time: Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, they found you sprawled out ass naked and dead.
Christmas time (if Santa): If your sorry ass neglects to leave milk and cookies by the fireplace again, I’m going to take you back to my “workshop” and the reindeer are gonna finish what the dogs don’t do.
Chanukkah time: Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made it out of clay. I’ve sharpened up my dreidel, and with dreidel I will slay.
Kwanza time: When I’m through with you, people around the world will finally know what this fucking holiday commemorates, because they’ll change it to remember the day that your dumb-ass got beat to death, brought back from the dead, only to get beat to death again.
New Year’s Eve: Do you hear those people counting down right now? They’re not counting to the New Years, they’re just counting off how many seconds you have left to live if you don’t get the fuck off my property.