Cocksuckers great and small

I referred in a recent post to the language on HBO's show Deadwood. I chose to comment on the characters "heightened language," with all of its interesting rhythms and cadences. Most people discussing the language on Deadwood choose instead to discuss the fact that a lot of the characters say "cocksucker" a lot. I find that my exposure to the show has desensitized me to the word, a word which may not have offended me before, but now seems as natural and commonplace as "table" or "asphalt." My usage of the word has increased, leading directly to the two hilarious anecdotes I now relate.

Hilarious Cocksucker Anecdote #1
The other day at work I went into the receiving room to yell and slam things around, something that happens with such frequency that most of my coworkers hardly even notice it at this point.
"What's up Andrew?" yawned Tommy the receiving manager.
"This cocksucker wouldn't believe me when I told him we didn't have yesterdays newspapers, that we threw them away. Fucking rude cocksucker."
"Yeah," said Tommy, who is gay, "What a stupid faggot."

Hilarious Cocksucker Anecdote #2
Occasionally I feel the urge to exercise, and sometimes I respond to this urge by jogging, exclusively at night. I feel that exercise should be a solitary, private affair, taking place away from the muscle-bound eyes of smug pony-tailed men and wiry women in sportsbras. I feel that nobody should have to see me sweat or pant for breath, both to save them the unwanted spectacle and to save me the feeling, real or imagined, that I am being laughed at. Running in my neighborhood spares me the company of the pony-tailed and be-sportsbra-ed. Running at night spares me the stares of random assholes mowing their lawns or playing with their children.
On one particular street near my house lives a small yellow terrier, whose owners let it out unattended to piss and shit and run around barking at passing joggers. I hate this dog and he hates me. He normally spots me a good fifty yards away and flies out of his yard at me, barking all the way. Many times I have been scared, once I even turned around. Yesterday I ran directly at him, yelling
"GET BACK IN YOUR FUCKING YARD YOU LITTLE COCKSUCKER! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
We both stopped in the middle of the street, several feet away from each other, he barking, I yelling.
"BARK! BARK BARK!"
"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE COCKSUCKER," stomping my feet for effect.
Then his owner called out, "Petey! Come inside right now!"
Embarrassed, I waved, and jogged off in the other direction.