Biggie Cuckoo and the Large Cucked Cuckoo

Fuck. You know what happens when a Cuckoo gets cucked? Bad shit bro. Anyways, his name was Kuck D. Koo (ironic, I know). His house was on the left side of the street next to the right street up on the block (which happens to rhyme with cock by the way). Now I'm not saying that what is proceeding next is racist, but it's kind of racist. Keep in mind I am transcribing this information from a key witness of the Cuck Crime. My witness, who shall not be named, but we'll refer to him as Bob, his nickname, shortened from his proper name Bobbie.

The incident occurred two-six fridays ago. This investigation will be further updated as more informatiuon is revealed. If you are reading this, then damn am I either a good detective, or I am a really shit detective, because if this document is published and you literate pieces of shits are reading this, then either the suspect was caught, or he bamboozled the fuck out of me, and hoo boy am I really rooting for the former rather than the latter right now. You know, I just so happen to be the senior detective on the squad.

Woah woah woah. The ACTUAL fuck? Okay, we need to pause this story. I know I'm straying off topic, but I was just perusing twitter, and this guy, this bitch, posted an image of Ben Shapiro Nintendo Switch game. Hold up. Ok, I've calmed down. It took me a few minutes.

fuck

fuck

Ok to be real with you
I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. STOP TRANSCRIBING THIS. BITCH IMMA BOUTTA sDRVG:BNJEPIO UG4398y

Man fuck this story, it aint going anywhere.

Sansmas Eve 1978, Manhattan, New York.
Snow lightly drifted down the rooftops. The city was bustling, rife with life. Cuckoos returned home for the holdiays. Festive Sansmas trees decorated the streets. It was a festive and cheery night for most of the Cuckoos, all except Jerry. Jerry Kuckman was finishing up at his office job.

He particularly wasn't fond of his job. Kuckman worked long hours into the late of night, and he felt that he wasn't properly compensated for his efforts. He was especially mad that his boss had decided that he would work on Sansmas Eve to wrap up the portfolios for send-off, when that wasn't even his job.

"Why the FUCK do I gotta pick up the slack that Fred caused? Man, FUCK this job. I swear, the moment I get a chance to escape this fucking bird's nest, I'm flying out of here." Jerry thought.

He looked at the clock. The time read 11:24 PM. Jerry sighed. He had about an hours work left strewn across his desk. The commute home would take approximately 20 minutes. He would miss the promised meet up time.

Jerry picked up his phone, and texted his wife that he would again arrive late tonight. She did not respond, but this was to be expected, as she was probably sound asleep.

Not a minute past his predicted completion time did Jerry finish all the work that his boss has forced upon him. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he stacked the paperwork in preparation for the deal. As he was walking to the elevator, he noticed that the service closet door was open, and that the lights were still on. He didn't remember the janitor coming in today to fix anything, but he was too tried to think about it further. Jerry took turned off the lights, and took the elevator down. As he walked out the building he stared at the sky. Tiny pieces of snow still drifted from above, and the moon was clear. He hailed a taxi, and hopped in to head home.

"Working long hours again, eh Jerry?" The taxi driver spoke.

"Yup", Jerry said.

The car took off into the dark of night.

As silence filled the cab, a feeling of uneasiness began to fill Jerry's heart. He began to ponder. How did the taxi driver know his name? And how did the taxi driver know that Jerry had worked long hours into the past? He didn't remember what the drivers of his previous trips looked like, and even so, the chances that he took the same cab home several times was unlikely. Remembering back, the way in which the cab driver spoke to Jerry seemed very casual, almost TOO casual. Something was off, but Jerry couldn't pinpoint what. But what Jerry didn't know was that this taxi ride would be the last time taxi he rode home. He looked at the man, and tried to remember if he had seen him before and Blah BLAh Blah, you know what? I'm tired, and I haven't even played my Ben Shapiro Nintendo Switch game yet. Let's just wrap this story up.

TL;DR the taxi company Jerry used to go home filed for bankruptcy after a legal lawsuit over the validity of it's taxi licenses, and Jerry had to spend an extraorinate amount of cash for a car to drive to and from work. Class Action Lawsuits are the Biggest Cuckoos of them all.

Now you might wonder. Who is the Large Cucked Cuckoo mentioned in the title? Well that's simple.