Worse Booze, Worse Hangover: Papa John’s Drunk Pic Freestyles

I’ve been wanting to do this all day, ever since a pic of John Schnatter being buttfuck wasted (every blog I’ve read about this has had some kind of swearing adjective to go along with his intoxicated state). I worked as a delivery driver for Papa John at one of his eponymous(ish) pizza outposts while in college, and the experience was just fine. I don’t even hate on the pizza…but then, I have the taste buds of a toddler.

So, with that, I’m just going to caption the shit out of this pic of him hanging on two of his boy slaves. If you have any riffs on the pic, please feel free to pop in a comment…I’m sure he’s a magnificent guy, but we did have a running suburban legend going around at the store, of him being caught in a garbage fire, getting burned to bits and having the skin off his ass transplanted onto his face. Don’t know how that started, but I love that lie and am not above perpetuating it.

OK, here we go!

Papa John

Papa John, in the least embarrassing pose he struck the entire evening.

“All right boys, you got me! Which one of your pogo sticks am I riding first?”

“What? 4 in the afternoon? I swore it was just wine cooler o’clock!”

“Which one of you is my son? Tell me your name, so I can go home and apologize to my wife!”

“OK, how do I get people to forget that I’d love to fuck my employees out of health insurance…”

“Wow, awkward…thought you two boys were black. Just realized I had my eyes closed. Can I get that fifty back?”

“Hey Mama John, check this shit out! I caught a couple of guppies!”

“Gentlemen, could you please assist me to my vehicle, where I might slip into something more comfortable? Maybe 2 somethings, if you catch what I’m throwing…do you? Catch what I’m throwing? I need you two to Chinese Fingertrap me and pull me apart like a wishbone.”

“You boys ever been inside a mansion? How about a man’s ass? To the Batcave!”

“Can you two help me find my dignity? I just had it here a second ago…must’ve dropped it…”

“I can’t believe, like, I’m sooooo fucking white girl wasted that it’s, like, not even fucking funny and stuff! I gotta get out of these heels, they. are. fucking. killing. me!”

“Go Blue!”

“Did I just shit my pants? Yes, yes I did.”

“You guys ever felt the joy of a one-stroke kickstart?”

“Hey, Biff and Shane, y’all wanna open up a pizza joint with me? What? Nah, somethin’ new…crazy ingredients…we should call it somethin’ fuckin’ amazin’, like California Pizza Kitchen or some shit…fuck, man, I don’t know. I just know that I love the shit outta you boys!”

“Either one of ya ever been roasted in a garbage fire? I’ll spare ya the details and just say ‘totally not what it’s trumped up to be.'”

“Listen listen listen listen listen…no, you two need to fucking listen here. This is the best night of my life, and you know why? ‘Cause I’m the belle of the ball! No, wait, listen, listen! Seriously though, best night of my life, and you know why? ‘Cause I killed a man and got away with it! No, c’mon, listen…”

“Hey, Randy and Lanny! You two wanna hop in my Lambo Diablo, head back up to Casa de Papa and watch some filmstrips? OK, cool. Now Randy, you can switch the frames, and Lanny…well, I broke the cassette tape from usin’ the damned thing too much, so I’m going to need you to scream like you’re dying in unholy terror, and then beep every 15 seconds or so.”

“Is this gonna be forever?!?”

“2 million pizzas?!? I swear, I’m gonna break that cocksucker’s neck again if he pulls that shit next year!”

“You two remind me a lot of my wife…she ain’t gonna let me fuck her in the ass tonight, either. And she will also probably beat the shit out of me.”

“Men men men men manly men, whoo-hoo-hoo-whoooohoooohoooo…”

“Hey, keep on the lookout for any blacks trying to photobomb my shit here, OK? I swear, it’s bad enough I gotta employ them….”

“Whaddaya mean you don’t know who the fuck Slayer is?”

“OK, let’s talk some sports, guys. What was that sport we were just watching?”

“No, it’s impe…imperv…imperative I remember your names. Can’t have love without a name…can’t have…who the fuck are you guys?!? I don’t even care…I still fuckin’ love you two.”

“Didja ever dream of doing something really big with your life? I mean, you know, missionary work in Africa, or the Peace Corps or something? This rich-as-shit thing, I’ll tell ya, it’s not all they say it is. Most days, I fall asleep cryin’.”

“Papa’s in the house! This is the house, right? I mean, I don’t have my pants on, so….”


Love that guy.

Now, you might have noticed that I didn’t make any references to that Papa John’s garlic sauce, and there’s a reason for that: I don’t sully the reputations of good things. HOWEVER, if you’d like to do so, please throw a comment or two on this thing. This picture’s easily worth more than a thousand words, and as yet I’ve only exploited about 900 of them.

And hey, don’t forget to stop supporting Papa John’s restaurants. You’re contributing to the demise of an alcoholic and only making the problem worse. Fucking enablers.

All the love,



About xtopherjacques

I'm an unreliable narrator, which is supposed to be the fun of it. I'd imagine it's a lot more fun to be led off a cliff if it feels like a circus until it happens. Oh, I'm an average guy; I respirate and dream. Here, I'll talk a lot about both. There will likely be too much talk about bodily fluids of varying viscosities for one's liking, but I refuse to change that until it bores me. Thankfully, I also have healthy obsessions with foods (it might get weird), body washes and obscure media. I also talk a lot about my house being haunted and possessed, neither being true. All of those things should keep this all interesting enough. I sure hope so.

Posted on 04/12/2013, in Fun Stuff!, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. “The 14 cent Obamacare charge actually goes to my beer budget.”

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