Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Happy Laughing Fun

I'm so happy I could throw up
All over the place
Happy laughing fun
Happy laughing fun
I'm so happy I could throw up
Right in your face
Happy laughing fun
All over the place

Oh, all I want to do
Is take some time
And dance with you, oh
So stay for awhile
Cause seeing your face
Just makes me smile
Happy laughing fun
All the while

I'm sad that I could throw up
All over the place
No more laughing fun
I'm sad that I could throw up
In your pretty face
No more laughing fun
All over the place

Oh, when I saw you
Walking out with some guy you knew
All I want to do
Is take a knife
And put it into you
To make you feel the pain
This burning feeling in my brain
I can make it go away!
I can make it go away!
Happy laughing fun
All over the place

I'm so happy
I'm so happy
Happy happy happy
Happy happy happy
Happy laughing fun
Happy laughing fun
All of the time

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Late Night Songlist (Metallica is Overrated Edition)

This list is composed of all the original versions of songs Metallica covered on their Garage Inc. album. And by "covered" I mean "turned into a bunch of sludge that all sounded exactly the same." It is, however, an interesting mix of heavy metal and punk and some other junk that makes for a pretty good playlist. This is going to be quite long, so bare with me. Or not.

Disc 1:
1. Discharge - Free Speech for the Dumb
2. Diamond Head - It's Electric
3. Black Sabbath - Sabbra Cadabra (Metallica's version includes a chunk of A National Acrobat)
4. Bob Seger - Turn the Page
5. The Misfits - Die, Die My Darling
6. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Loverman
7. Mercyful Fate Medley:
*Satan's Fall (Part 1) (Part 2)
*Curse of the Pharaohs
*A Corpse Without Soul
*Into the Coven
8. Blue Öyster Cult - Astronomy
9. Whiskey in the Jar
*Thin Lizzy's Version (The version Metallica is covering)
*The also pretty great Dubliners version
10. Lynyrd Skynyrd - Tuesday's Gone
11. Discharge - The More I See (The Metallica version also includes a short chunk of Bridge of Sighs by Robin Trower)

Disc 2:
1. Diamond Head - Helpless
2. Holocaust - The Small Hours
3. Killing Joke - The Wait
4. Budgie - Crash Course in Brain Surgery
5. *Misfits - Last Caress
*Misfits - Green Hell
(Also contains a mocking parody of Iron Maiden's Run to the Hills. Maiden responded with a rant at the end of a cover of Space Station No. 5 by Montrose. (Part one) (Part two)(The original Montrose version)
6. Diamond Head - Am I Evil?
7. Blitzkrieg - Blitzkrieg
8. Budgie - Breadfan
9. Diamond Head - The Prince
10. Queen - Stone Cold Crazy
11. Anti-Nowhere League - So What?
12. Sweet Savage - Killing Time
13. Motorhead - Overkill
14. Motorhead - Damage Case
15. Motorhead - Stone Dead Forever
16. Motorhead - Too Late Too Late

Sorry this ended up being so long. If all this metal and punk has been too much for your brain, please have some Yanni and my apologies.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Kurdt Reads Chick Tracts - The Warning

All comics stolen from Jack Chick's home on the web.

Danger! High Voltage!

All comics should start with a horrible car crash. It'd make Ziggy a heck of a lot more interesting anyways...

So to teach your grandkid a lesson you took him a grisly car wreck? Methinks that grandpa is going to get put in a home soon...

Umm, no. It's not that he didn't believe in warning signs, it's that he chose to ignore one. There is a difference. And a stop sign isn't a warning sign anyways, it's a command sign. Legally, you don't have a choice whether you want to stop or not.
Am I the only one getting Troll 2 flashbacks with Grandpa Seth there?

Grandpa kept that barbed wire in that drawer along with his lawn darts and autographed Charles Manson photo...

Someone found a new swimming hole? Hooray! Man, I would not want to live in a town where that's a huge thing. Also, that pig looks stoned.

Gah! What the Hell is wrong with that kid's face? I suppose it's a pretty good representation of a backwoods, it's just an awful drawing. This page is also very funny if you change the first dialogue balloon to "I gots some sexy chickens that we's can fuck."
Please also note the appearance of Fang the Dog. He's a reoccurring character in Chick Tracts, for some odd reason.

I'm having Children of the Corn flashbacks! A Chick Tract devoted to He Who Walks Behind the Rows would be pretty awesome, actually.
But wait, they said "Nobody lives out here anymore." That means that someone did live out there, thus someone had to now about the swimming hole. How the heck could they have just found it? And it wouldn't exactly be new either. I'm thinking too hard about this...

Well at least that first panel is accurate. Every "No Trespassing" sign that I've ever seen has at least two bullet holes in it.
Also, this is a pretty good set up for a horror movie.

"Hey guys, I'm stuck!" "Too Bad!" Typical Jack Chick dialogue and characterization. People who do bad things really don't give a crap what happens to fellow members of the human race in Chick's world.
Oh and

I guess BP owns this land. Either that or this is the nastiest stagnant water on the face of the earth.
"Wow, look at that!" It's water! Hooray!
And nice job putting the "No Swimming" sign on ONE SIDE OF THE POND! It also kind of negates the whole message of ignoring signs that Chick is trying to put forth.

Snake! Snake! Oooh, it's a snake! Sorry, I had to do it.
Damn oil snakes, they're the worst!
This page is out of order, it should be after the next one. Maybe it's a mistake or maybe Chick just doesn't know how to plan a story out. I'm guessing the latter.

From the look on his face, he already came. Heh heh. Sorry, that was terrible.
I know that he wouldn't (and probably shouldn't) have them swimming naked, but he could have at least given them shorts. Swimming in long underwear would suck so very very bad.

I love this panel. The kid yelling "Stay away! It's full of SNAKES!" Combined with Tommy's sweat strewned "guh?" face, makes me laugh every time.
This is also a good time to bring up the question of "Are there really ponds out there full of poisonous snakes ready to kill stupid kids that decide to go swimming?" And if so, why wouldn't the people who own the land do something about it? True, this is supposed to be abandoned property, but then who put up the signs? Why didn't Chick just make it about kids messing around in a rock pile somewhere, you know, WHERE SNAKES ACTUALLY CONGREGATE?

This preacher is an asshole. "Yup, these three boys died an awful, tragic, and very painful death, lets change the subject to something only marginally related, shall we?"

Actually no, it wasn't Satan that was planning to destroy Adam and Eve, it was God. God was the one who put the tree there and told them not to touch it, knowing full well that they would since he's FREAKING GOD! He's omnipitent so he would also have to know about Satan, who he would also have to have created. Where else would he have come from and why would God let him stay in the garden? The Old Testament makes no sense until you realize that God is an evil character that only wants pain and suffering for his creations. Because he loves them.
And it says "Eve would become like God" not "a god" since there was only one. Get your scripture right Chick!

God is supposed to be all powerful, if he wanted to he could reverse what happened and fix his fuck up. He didn't want to. Everything is according to his plan and will, all the wars and pestilence and disease are his fault. Those souls that are burning in Hell are burning because he wants them there. God and satan are one and humanity is doomed. There, it's simple. I should make my own tracts. I think I'd be able to draw better than Chick anyways...
In my head that preacher comes floating in from the right side of the panel. It must be cold in the inky black void he lives in.

This page also needs a soundtrack:
This kid is more choked up about what this preacher is saying then having seen his friends get murdered by snakes. Thats kind of fucked up.

This is the point in every Chick Tract where you go "Alright, we've had our fun laughing at the awful art work, the bullshit contrived plots, and insane Christian conservative beliefs, is this thing over yet?" No, no it's not.
That preacher reminds me of someone, I just can't put my finger on it. Anyone see any resemblences?

Umm, preacher? I thought this was a funeral service? You know, the very tragic death of three young boys? Remember? Oh well, they were back woods trash anyways.
Tommy: "I thought Jesus died for our sins? Doesn't that mean I can sin all I want and just pray for forgivness right after?"
Preacher: "Shut up Tommy or I'll make you stay late with Preacher Mike and his Roman fingers..."

It's a good thing that they suddenly rememberd they had a funeral to finish.
That kid's face is really messed up in that second panel. I guess the joy of loving Jesus disfigured him.
And if your heart is really dirty, I'd suggest seeing a doctor pretty damn quick. People die from that sort of thing you know.

So, from this one story that his senile old grandpa told him, the little boy was conned into giving all his allowance money to the church and spent many happy hours with the rev in his back office, until the police put a stop to it. Is that the end yet? Nope.

Blah blah blah blah blah....THE END!

Alright, so if you want me to do another one of these, please say so in the comments section. Or if I've gravly offended you and you want to rip my heart out and stomp on it, or if you have any suggestions or critisims at all, please comment. I need your comments more than water or air!

I'll leave you with this song, which should be the theme for every Chick Tract ever:

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Thomas Kinkade's Cavalcade of Whimsy

We open on a montage of Thomas Kinkade's paintings, with Kenny G's Songbird as the musical opening theme. We settle on a painting of a cabin as the music fades away. The title reads Thomas Kinkade's Cavalcade of Whimsy in soft white letters. We then fade out and in to a portly man sitting on a living room couch, surrounded by Kinkaid paintings. He has a poofy moustache and he is smiling a bit too wide. His beady eyes reveal a not all together pleasant sense of the man that lives behind them.
Man (with a thick southern accent): Hey y'all and welcome to my show! Who am I? I am just the goddamn best selling painter in the the whole fucking world! Thomas Mother Fucker Kinkaide.
He slaps both his knees and chuckles
And Don't you forget it!
He points menacingly at the camera and then smiles again.
Kinkade: Today We're going to have a lot of fun and you're going to buy a lot of my merchandise! But first, I have some business to take care of.
He pulls a Picasso and a Rembrandt from behind the couch.

K (Shouting): These bastards think their better than me. Don't you, you stupid sons a bitches? Well I got news for you Mergatroide, I am the best painter that ever lived. No one comes into my house and tries to steal my crown! Take this!
He then proceeds to stomp up and down the paintings before unzipping his fly.
K (Peeing): Oh yeah, how do you like that?
He finishes and zips up his fly.
K: (Looking at the camera again): I paid 2 million for those paintings and it was worth every penny! But now I've got something really special to show you folks at home!
He walks into his kitchen and sits down at the table. He picks up a knife that has a painting of his on the handle.
K: Now, I've got a little contest for you people at home. And all of you should be watching. Uncle Kinky wants you to find anyone that isn't watching this show right now and stab them in the face with a soldering iron. You will get Kinkaide points when you get to heaven. Now then! What was I talking about?
He looks puzzled for a bit and then looks down at the knife and jumps a bit in his chair.
K: Oh, okay! I remembers now! My contest! (Chuckles). This summer I'm coming to one of your houses. You won't know what time it is or what day I'm just gonna show up! And if you don't have any of my merchandise prominently on display, (Gets a serious look on his face) I'm going to kill you and your whole fucking family!
He laughs again and swings the knife around his head.
K: Now, I've got some products that you sure a shit are gonna buy. (Lower voice almost a growl) Don't get me angry. (Happy again)
K: You're about to get a peek into my super secret workshop! (Low voice) But remember, it's a secret! (Yells) SO DON'T TELL ANYONE!
We fade out and back into a basement room. There's rows and rows of artists sitting at easles, chained to the floor. They're painting bright landscapes and whimsical cabins. They look dirty and malnourished.
K: This is my secret workshop! This is where alllllllll the magic happens! Lets chat a bit with one of my helpers, shall we?
He swings his arm wide at the camera and then walks over to one of the artists, and puts his hand on his shoulder.
Artist: (Jumps) Oh, oh, uh, Mr. Kinkaid sir, I'm um almost finished with...
K: Why is this not done yet?
A: I'm, I'm working as fast as I can. I need food, I don't' have any energy to fin...oh God, I'm gonna die here! (Sobs)
Kinkaid frowns and looks mad. He scans the picture for a long time.
K: (Grabbing the easel.) This is crap! Pure trash! And you know what we do with trash?
A: N-n-no Mr. Kinkaid, sir!
K: We live in the trash we create!
He slams the painting on the artists head, who falls off the chair and lies still on the dirty floor. Kinkaide approaches another artist.
K: Lets see what we have here....hmmm.
Artist: It's...It's not finished yet Mr. Kinkaide, sir.
Kinkaide grabs the painting and stares at it. He shrugs his shoulders.
K: Eh, good enough.
He throws the painting into a huge pile of easels in the middle of the room.
K: (Yelling) BOSTWICK!
A very malnourished looking man in a business suit comes shuffling in as fast he can. He looks like a younger Mr. Burns and he talks like Peter Lorre.
Bostwick: Yes, sir, what is your wish today?
K: (Points) Take those down to the lab and have them made into steins and shower curtains.
B: Yes, master (Shuffles away and comes back with a large wheelbarrow. He starts loading the paintings in, in the back ground. As Kinkaide address the camera.
K: Now that you've seen the wonders of my shop, lets look at some products!
Artist: (In the background) Ummmm, can I have some food now?
K: (Angrily) No, not till you give me some quality work! Don't make me get my whimsical cane!
We fade out and back in on the living room. Those several objects on the table.
K: Now there's several objects that I want you to buy. (Mad) And you will buy them. (Growls) (Happy again) The first piece is this beautiful porcelain dildo. Look at that, isn't that lovely?
The shaft of the dildo has a Kinkaid landscape on it, the head is a whimsical cabin.
K: And it vibrates! (Chuckles) For when you've got an itch that only Kinkaide can scratch.
He puts the vibrator on the table and picks up a brightly painted S&M mask.
K: Now this is for when your kids are bad! Ya just put it on their head, shut the zipper and lock it with my trademarked Kinkaide padlock, Like this. And your child will learn his place while also learning about the world of art! See, it even has a painting on the inside!
He turns it inside out, there is. He picks up another objects, it looks almost like a flashlight but it has a strange looking end.
K: Now this here is the pride and joy of Kinkaide labs. I call it the, whimsicator! Now to really test this baby out, we need to go out on the town and find a someone to test drive it for us! Lets go!
We fade out to Kinkaide lurking in the bushes watching a shirtless sweaty man pushing a lawn mower. He jumps out of the bushes at the man.
K: (Chuckles) You're on the Cavalcade of Whimsy dude! And you're going to test drive one of my fine products!
Man: I am?
K: Of course you are! And if you don't I'll tell your wife about that little thing you've got going with your daughters slutty friend. You know, the one that wears the pigtails all the time...
Man: (Scared) I'll do anything you say! Please for the love of god...
K: (Pats him on the back) Of course you will. (Turns to the camera) Now for the folks at home, here's how you use the Whimsicator!
He points it at the lawnmower and flips a switch. The top opens and shoots a beam of pastel light. It hits the lawnmower and suddenly it's made of porcelain and has a lightly colored forest painted on it.
Man (Forcing a smile): That's um...that's great! (Laughs nervously) Um, is this thing still gonna work?
K: No way in Heck! But now it's a collectors item! And watch this!
He points the thing at the guy's house which transforms into a whimsical cabin. Kinkaide laughs and runs around laughing turning the trees into cookie cutter chocolate box art.
Man: (With his jaw wide open) Oh my sweet Jesus!
K: And it works on people too!
He points the beam at the man and hits the button. Suddenly the man is wearing leiderhosen, wooden shoes, and a funny German hat. Kinkaide looks down at the thing.
K: (Puzzled) Ah shit, I've got this thing stuck on Hummel!
He starts hitting the bottom of the thing and it shoots a beam of light into the sky, which transforms into pastel blues and oranges and reds.
K: (Scared) Oh shit, better jet!
As he runs off back onto the bushes the man takes a peek down his pants.
Man: (In a thick Swedish accent) Vhere did mah genitals go?
We fade back into the living room, Kinkaide is sitting on the couch, the knife is still in his hand.
K: That's all for today folks, and remember, buy my art, or I'll fucking kill you!
He starts waving the knife around and slices the side of his neck open. He rubs some blood on this fingers as it runs down his neck and soaks into his shirt.
K: Ah crud, accidents happen. Too bad I can't use this for my paintings, it's too bright! But I do use a whole lot of urine!
He points the knife at the camera.
K: Okay Teddy, shut that thing off. (Angrily) I said shut it off!
Teddy: (From behind the camera) (Scared) I can't uncle T!
K: (Getting up and advancing towards the camera with the knife) Why you incompetent...
We hear a scream and the camera gets knocked over. We can see Kinkaide chasing around a teenager with long hair, who is screaming his head off.
K: Get back here, so I can carve a whimsical cabin on your back!
We fade away to the same montage of paintings and Kenny G.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

31 Posts in 31 Days - Day #2


I used to hate going over to my grandmother's house. For one thing, it always smelled really bad; stale dirt, and mothballs, and cat shit. For another, I was kind of scared of my grandmother. She was always telling me these weird stories about when she was a little girl, growing up on a farm in South Dakota. Stories about cows that were born all messed up, and her older sister that had some weird deformity and died when she was sixteen. She would point at me with her bony old finger and tell me how good I had it, not having to get up at dawn to milk cows. I had no real chores to do, no real problems. She was right of course, but when you're five years old, that stuff sinks into your head. I lay awake at night thinking about the cow that was born with a beak, and how I was going to grow up to be a bum like grandma said I was. I could see myself in tattered clothes with a long beard, walking down the road looking for something to eat.
Those stories were bad but the worst was when I would sleep over and she would tell me a story that her mother had told her, and her mother before that, all the way back to some very distant past. It was the story of Mr. Pinch, and it gave me nightmares up till I hit puberty....

Kids do bad things either because they don't know any better, or because of some desire, some thing that they want more than anything. Sometimes adults forget that to a kid even small things seem very very important. Generally, however, good parents don't like when kid's do bad things. It makes them feel like they haven't been doing their job right. So when little Billy gets into the jam jar for the fifth time after being told not to, even after being beaten severly, and actually dropping the jar and breaking it the last time, Billy's parents are at the end of their ropes. That's when they would call Mr. Pinch.
Mr. Pinch was a wrinkley brown troll about the size of a large cat. Instead of hands, he had two fingers like lobster claws, whith long sharp nails on the end of each one. When you were really bad your parents would say the secret magic words and, while you were sleeping, Mr. Pinch would steal you away in a burlap sack and take you to his secret lair, far far underground. You'd be strung up by your feet from the roof and Mr. Pinch would take his long nails and pinch you until you screamed that you promised to be a good little boy or girl from then on. And then, maybe, he'd let you go home. Otherwise you'd stay in his lair and eat nothing but worms for the rest of your life. He had a pit full of very bad children that would never grow up and could never leave.
It sounds silly, but like I said, when you're little, everything seems like a big deal. Everything seems like it could be real.
I saw Mr. Pinch many times in my nightmares. I would getting a can of peaches from the basement and he'd be there, his tiny red eyes staring at me from the under the stairs. I'd scream that I was good boy but he'd still come, snapping his fingers at me. Then I'd wake up crying. He showed up a lot in my early drawings; a perfect representation of my worst childhood fears: abandonment, hunger, pain, and never being able to go home ever again.
But you know what? All of those fears become realized when you grow up and have to live on your own, so Mr. Pinch is in a way, very very real.
And I still hate the fucker.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

31 Posts in 31 Days - Day #1


Scarlet is the color of my true love's hair
And also of her blood
A deep red puddle that never seems to go away...

When they came to take her away, I was there
I saw the lights
I heard the screams
I saw her skin melt off
Like ice cream in the sun
Dripping onto the ground
Before it vanished
I could see everything she was made of
Bones, muscles, organs, blood
As she fell apart
And faded away
What did I feel that night?
Standing there in the field by grandpa's woods?
I don't think I cried
I loved her
But I don't think I cried
I was sad, but this was inevitable wasn't it?
The grey ones had told me she would be taken
Told me so I could steel myself
And get her out of my heart
I did love her
I really did
Probably named after her deep red hair
She was beautiful
But at the end, I saw what she was really made of
Beauty really is only skin deep
Inside we're ugly
Outer beauty is a sack to hold organs and flesh
I don't love her anymore
I don't love her anymore
But what I can't get out of my head
Is her eyes
Deep green
One of the last things to go
Staring at me
Screaming where her vocal cords could not
But I am doing good things for the grey ones
They assure me that I will be rewarded
My place among the great ones is certain

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

The Adventures of Cox Hunter

Please do not read the following story if you are easily offended. Please?

When Cox woke up that morning, he knew it was going to be a bad day. He knew it because the first thing that happened was that the afternoon sun burned his eyes. The second thing was that his stomach lurched and he had to run for the bathroom to keep from puking in his bed. He didn't make it and ended up splattering reddish-brown stomach bile and beer all over the hallway. He groaned and leaned against the wall, surveying the damage. Mom was not going to be happy. Not that she ever was...
After throwing a bunch of paper towels on the unholy mess he had made, Cox Hunter, 25 years of age and wearing nothing but a pair of worn out boxer-briefs, finally set out to start his day off right. He scratched his ass and dug through the cupboards for some cereal that he hadn't consumed yet. Way in the back behind an ancient can of creamed corn, was a just as ancient box of Fiber-bran. He looked at the box for a full thirty seconds, as if actually trying to decide on the inevitable. This was the only food in the house, and big Cox had to eat.
Pulling a bowl from the cupboard, the last one since he hadn't done the dishes in what was probably going on a good month, he dumped the last powdery bits of stale cereal out and then dug in the mostly empty fridge for something to pour on it. There was no milk because he distinctly remembered drinking it all the day before. I'll have to get on Mom about buying some food, he thought. But then he remembered her screaming at him for not contributing anything or doing any chores the last time he had brought food up. It was better to just keep quiet and play video games all day. That was how you stayed in someone's house. If they never saw you, they couldn't kick you out. Of course, there was the high school keggers and beer parties he was addicted to that kept getting him into trouble...
The only thing in the fridge to drink was an opened can of Fresca, which turned out to be half empty. He shrugged to no one and poured it into the bowl. Taking a bite, he gagged and pounded the counter top in agony. Then he spit the mouthful of cereal and soda into the sink and frowned at the bowl. Then he shrugged again and shuffled off into the living room. He'd find some actual food later. Right now he had a more pressing issue at hand...

Cox Hunter's penis was very small. So small in fact that jacking off was very hard to do since his gut was so big. But if he sucked in just slightly and grabbed it with both hands and thought hard enough, he could get an erection that he could hold onto and stroke. The problem was finding something good to get him off. He wasn't allowed in the computer room anymore since he had almost ruined mom's PC by downloading some farm porn that had a rather nasty Trojan virus on it. Now she locked the door and all his riffling through her room didn't help find it.
He lay back in the easy chair, thinking as it squealed alarmingly under his girth. He didn't have any porn lying around since he has sold it all to his buddy Keith for weed money. He did have his old high school year books, but he had jacked off to the half way decent pictures too much. Finding himself with no other options, he turned on MTV.
What luck! It was some dumb show about stupid rich girls. But they were hot! His penis became slightly engorged with blood and Cox set about pleasuring himself. Just as he was starting to get off, the show ended and he lay back in the chair, exhausted.
Shit, he thought, the next show had better be...oh no! His eyes opened in terror and his erection went away. It was a show about queers! He quickly grabbed for the remote and switched the channel. That was a close one! He thought. But now what? He looked at the limp penis in his hand. He shrugged again to nobody and started channel surfing.
A half hour slipped by. An hour, two passed as Cox mindlessly channel surfed looking for anything that might arouse him. Oprah? No, too fat and ugly. Rachel Ray? Nah, looked too much like mom. Suddenly his finger stopped clicking. Girls in swimsuits! Wait, this was Nickelodeon. They were like, twelve. Still, they were kind of cute....

Anita Hunter had gotten off of work early. Or rather, she had taken off early because she had a blinding headache. It didn't do to manage group therapy sessions in that state of mind. And it would be good to just lay in a dark room and sleep. She sighed loudly as she pulled up to second street and turned off to the suburban block that she called home. She silently prayed that Cox hadn't made any messes. Well, anymore than usual...

Cox was just about there. Sitting as close to the TV as he could, thinking dirty thoughts about the girls on the show, what they would feel like, what they would look like. His cock was at full attention and he was jerking so hard that later he would find sores all over penis. His tounge hanging out, he concentrated on the skinny ass of the main character, a twelve year old blonde girl making a mess in the kitchen. Almost there, almost there...

Anita paused for a second with her hand on the doorknob. Something didn't feel right. What was she going to find? She sighed loudly again and turned the handle...

Cox didn't hear the door open. He didn't hear anything. He was inside his head, doing things that would land him in jail for a very long time if he had done them in real life. When he finally came it shot out in long jets that covered his hands and dripped on the carpet. He sat slumped over, breathing heavily. He turned when he heard the scream, just in time to see his mother bolt out the door. He shrugged as he heard her car drive away. He stared at the mess he had made in his hands for a second and then set about cleaning it up with his tounge.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

A Talk With The Old Man

I hear you want to travel boy
Well let me steer you clear
There's things out there
That will curl your hair
And strike you mighty queer!

Sometimes at night I pray to God
When I lay down to sleep
That my head's still on come morning
And nothing eats my feet!

Our house is full of knives and things
Their sharpness warms my soul
If the world gets in
I'll just slug some gin
And stab it full of holes!

Don't you know that it's impossible
To fly with broken wings?
You'll sail away a little ways
And fall into the sea!

Down there at the bottom
The fish will eat your eyes
You can't move
And you can't speak
But there's no way to die!

No girl wants a dapper Dan
Who's rotting all the time
She'll take one breath
Of your ghoulish stench
And then she'll start to cry!

But the ladies love a dapper Dan
That gives them shiny things
A little golden pocket watch
Some beeswax or some rings
But they don't like when you take your knife
And give their throats a smile
But at least then
When they've lost their heads
They're quiet for awhile!

Your mother was a woman
Who would eat the tar off roads
Make me chew my toenails
And have affairs with toads!
But then one night I found her
In the field behind the house
She was clearly dead
For she had no head
But she still called me a louse!

Don't look so sad my boy my lad
For my advice is sound
Take two years
And then your fears
Will be buried in the ground
The worms that eat the baseboard
They sing a merry tune
Lets take a swig from my powder keg
And dance around the room!

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


The first thing I remember when I woke up was the smell. If you've never smelled a dead rotting body before, it's indescribable. One is bad enough but when you've got a room full of them, nailed to the walls, piled up on the floor, it's unbearable and the first thing I did when I woke up, was to puke. And then I screamed because there was one lying right next to me, a young guy looked like he was barley out of puberty. He had no nose or eyes...
Do you remember how you got there, to the trailer?
All I remember was that I had driven home from work. I got to my apartment, pulled over to the curb, got out, and was walking up to the front door when something hit me on the head and I blacked out, and that was it.
Did he ever abuse you sexually?
No, all he did for a long time was bring me food in a little bowl. I think it was supposed to be food anyways. It was always the same chunks of raw meat. Of course I didn't want to eat it at first. But I got hungry. If you've never been without food for weeks you have no idea...
What do you think he was feeding you?
I don't want to think about it, okay? I did what I had to do to survive. You would have done the same thing.
But he never touched you, in a sexual way?
I don't understand why you care, but I already said no. He wasn't into live girls. He had plenty of them that wouldn't put up a fight. I don't think he was into violence if he could help it.
But he killed so many people...
No, he killed about four or five. The rest he got from graveyards.
You were the only living person in that trailer besides him?
Why do you think he kept you alive?
I think he wanted a pet, thats what I think. He treated me like one, except he never unchained me to take me for walks. But he would pat my head and talk to me like I was a baby. And sometimes he would just sit and stare at me, like I was a bug or something.
Tell us about your escape.
Well it was real simple, one day I heard him get his truck and drive off somewhere, which didn't happen often. I pulled at my chains till they ripped out of the wall and then I ran.
Into the woods.
Yeah, I was out of my mind, I didn't know where I was going.
And you ran right into him.
Yup, he hadn't gone very far. I didn't know it was his truck. He was digging a hole in the ground, bent over and I grabbed his shoulder. Stupid, so fucking stupid.
Why do you think he...did what he did next?
Easy, he didn't want me to try and escape.
Then why didn't he take your legs?
I think he meant to take them. Later. I think his thought process was that he needed to do something to keep me from pulling my chains out of the wall again. And...other things.
Well, um Miss Grace, Thank you for your time.
Oh, it's no problem.
And we're very sorry about your...
Yeah yeah, everyone is. I don't need any more pity....

Monday, August 2, 2010

Susan's Story

What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
That was the game that night, as we all sat around the campfire, our only light. Even the moon had shunned us.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
It was all Sam's doing, like usual. Her and Andrea had played a few songs on their guitars and sang and they were taking a break when she brought that question up.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?
And we all answered, one by one. We ended up with five stories told that scared us enough that after the last one was finished we packed it in and went home. If they were fiction, they wouldn't have had half as much impact. But knowing each other well, knowing that none of us were liars, knowing that each story was true, I think we all had trouble sleeping that night.
What's the weirdest thing that ever happened to you?

"Your turn, Suzy-Q." Said Andrea, looking at her from across the fire pit. That was meant as a joke but Susan didn't smile. Susan never smiled, she was one of those people whose face was fixed in a permanent frown. In the three months that I had been hanging out with all of them, I hadn't even heard her say more than two or three sentences to anybody. But she was a brilliant drummer and when she did talk, it was usually something pretty interesting and off the wall. She did have a sense of humor, although it was really dark.
She pushed her blond hair out of her face and glanced at everyone, with piercing blue eyes that took in everything. There was no hiding anything from her, if you were full of shit, she saw right through you. I did like her though, I'd rather have hung out with her then most anyone at school.
When she talked it was with a soft low mumble so that we all had to be really quiet to hear her.
"We all had pretty bad childhoods but I think mine was the worst. In fact I know it was. I'm not going to go into what happened in detail but basically I ended up in a foster home when I was about six or seven that treated me really badly and I ended up having to do a really bad thing to get out of there. It was about three years of therapy and pshycoanalysis before they figured out that I was sane and found me another set of foster parents."
She paused here and sighed.
"It was sort of the end of a nightmare for me, one that I had been living pretty much my whole life. When I got to my new house, I couldn't believe it. I had enough food to eat and ask for things without getting beaten. It was heaven, but the bad things that had happened to me where still under my skin. I dreamed about them, had terrible nightmares. Sometimes I would be sitting doing something like watching TV or trying to learn to read, and I would just start crying and I wouldn't stop for hours. And sometimes I would get angry for no reason and break things and I would feel so bad about it afterwards."
Sam broke in. "What happened? Come on, we're all your friends here, just tell us. We've all been through terrible shit."
Susan sighed again and sounded like she was going to cry.
"I was...I was sexually abused. Very badly for quite a long time. It's very hard for me to talk about...."
She wiped away a tear and Sam got up and walked over to her and they embraced for a long time. We all sat and looked at the fire as Susan sobbed loudly and Sam whispered things to her that we couldn't hear.
It made me feel very strange because I had never seen Susan cry before. She always seemed so strong and finally a wall had broken down. I wanted to give her a hug too and tell her that everything was fine. But of course that would have been a lie. When you've got something like that in your past, it's very hard to get away from. So I sat and poked the fire with a stick, feeling like a jackass till she sat down and regained her composure.
"I'm sorry, like I said, I don't like to talk about it." She wiped the tears off her face and pushed her hair back into her eyes.
"Anyways, weirdest thing I've ever seen? Well sometime in the first month with my new foster parents, they asked me what I wanted to do this one Saturday. They said they'd take me anywhere I wanted to go. I said I wanted to go to the beach, since I had never been to one. I had rode by a few of them and it had sort of become a place I would go in my mind. I would create real parents that would take me and they'd buy me hot dogs and ice cream and we'd play in the water and lay on the sand. I'd dream about it when I went to sleep at night, used it to escape when terrible things were happening to me..."
She looked like she was going to cry again but she swallowed hard and continued.
"They agreed and we went to Howling Wolf Lake that Saturday afternoon. It seems like such a small thing to people that went there whenever they wanted but I had never been to a beach before. I was over-excited. I ran around the sand and laughed and splashed in the water. My foster parents didn't know what to make of me since I had been so quiet up to that point but they played Frisbee with me and Dad threw me into the water over and over and we all built sand castles and dug water trenches. It was perfect, they even bought me ice cream. I ate it while they slept, I actually wore them out!"
She smiled here, a very rare occurrence.
"While they were asleep, I finished my ice cream and got bored. I thought about waking Dad up to play Frisbee again but I was afraid he'd get mad so took my Frisbee and walked off into the water. I was throwing it up in the air and watching it land, slowly getting into deeper and deeper water. After awhile I stopped and looked back and the beach was way far off, at least that's what it seemed like. I don't know what possessed me but I stopped throwing my Frisbee in the air and kept walking out further and further till the water was up to my chin, when a slight wave came, I had to spit to keep it out of my mouth. I had decided that was it and I was going to turn back when I felt a tug on my ankle. And when I tried to make my way back to the beach, I found that I couldn't move. I started to get kind of scared but I didn't start panicking till I felt the tug on my ankle again. This time it was strong enough to pull me right under the water."
"What was pulling you?" Andrea asked.
"It was a girl, about my age. She had this long blond hair that was all fanned around her face and these really green eyes. I know because she pulled me right down next to her and she smiled in my face as I kicked and struggled to hold my breath."
"It seemed like I was down a long time before I could make any headway towards the surface, but it seemed if I kicked as had as I could, I slowly moved upwards to the light and air. But the horrible thing was the grip on my ankle got tighter the higher I went and when I looked down, the girl was still there, smiling at me from ear to ear.
When I finally made it to the surface, I was so tired. And I was a lot farther out then I had been originally. I screamed as loud as I could and flailed my arms. And then I went under again and this time I couldn't get back up. My energy was gone and all I could do was grab at the lake bottom as the girl pulled me deeper and deeper. And then I blacked out..."
She paused again and stared into the fire.
"When I woke up I was lying on the beach and Dad was standing over me as I spit out a huge stream of water. He very looked very angry and I started to cry, trying to tell them about the girl through my sobs. They didn't believe me, of course, it all sounded so stupid. Till I showed them the marks on my ankle. It wasn't just bruises, there were deep gashes where the girl's hand had grabbed me. When I showed them, Dad stopped looking angry and got real quiet. He looked out at the water and then back at me and in a very odd sounding chocked off voice he said 'Lets go home.'
And that was that, we packed up and left. Never went back there again. I don't even think we ever even went to a beach after that."
"That's really creepy."
"And if you don't believe me, I still have scars on my ankle. And I'm done talking. John, It's your turn now..."

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Sam's Story

The campfire made weird shadows on her face, making her almost look ghoulish. She was beautiful though, at least I thought so. She was a bit chunky but whatever. She was crazy, but fun crazy, not dangerous crazy. Not usually. Usually Sam was a blast to be around. But she did have a different side. Sometimes she'd just get sad and sit and walk off to be herself and then come back awhile later and be normal again, with no explanation at all. It made her more desirable to me, I wanted to get to know more about her, wanted to know everything. I could never have her, and it hurt, like knives cutting into my heart. I still love her, this mysterious thing that wandered in and out of my life in the course of a year. Of course I'd see her on TV later, but that's another story...
She shifted her guitar on her lap but didn't set it aside. It looked so natural sitting there, it would have felt wrong if she got rid of it. She gazed a long time into the fire before she started, almost like she was drawing up something she'd hidden away a long time ago...

My mother was a piece of shit. I'm not saying that to be mean, she really was. She was an awful parent and, as I came to realize much later, a truly awful person. When you're really little you think that the small world that surrounds you is the same for everyone because you have no frame of reference. You think "Okay, all the other kids get their arms burnt with cigarettes too, so It's not so bad" Or "All the other kids never have enough food to eat too, it's not just me." But then you go to school and you find out that you've been getting the short end of the stick all along and it hurts. It hurts and it makes you angry. Of course you don't say anything because you'll just get beaten more. So you take your anger and your hurt and you bury it deep down inside where no one else can see it. You bury it and it seethes and boils and it eats away at your soul. People who don't come from broken homes have no idea, they look at you like you're a cockroach that needs to be stepped on. And if they don't, then they pity you, which is worse sometimes. They see your shitty clothes and the scars on your arms and they patronize you because they think you're stupid. And then that anger comes up again, anger you can't do anything with, anger that kills you inside. And they wonder why people get so messed up sometimes. When you're a kid all you can do is suck it and hide it and then when you get older it all comes out and we do terrible things, things that shock the people reading their morning newspapers. They shake their heads and move on, only a glancing thought for scum like us. It's very hard to rise above that fate.
You turned out alright.
Yeah, It's all chance and fate too. But anyways. Yeah, my mom was shit, my dad ran off, and my sister...well thats something I don't like to talk about. All I had was myself. My mom had a job for awhile, at Alpaca foundry, and I guess she felt some obligation as a parent at that point because she would never leave me by myself at home. What she'd do though, was drop me off at a realatives house, usually without telling them. And I would spend the day there, wether they were home or not. It was usually at my Great Aunt Gina's, who had a day job too and was never home and I'd wander around in the woods till she picked me up. God, sometimes I wonder how the Hell I survived. I was only seven for christsakes.
But anyways, my aunt lived in this huge old house. I remember it really well, it had this shitty brown shingle siding on it, that always scared me for some reason. Inside it was really kind of boring. Aunt Gina didn't have any kids so she didn't have any toys or games and the only books she had were Reader's Digest Condensed Books which people pretty much just put up on shelves to make it look like they read a lot, I think. When she was home, and I couldn't wander outside, she'd make me sit and watch Soap Operas with her which was torture for me but it's weird because whenever I hear the opening to The Young and the Restless, it brings back this wave of nostalgia that's so strong it sickens me. It's not a bad tune, I just hate it because it brings me back to my shitty childhood. (She laughed a little bit here, and paused before going on.)
When my aunt was home, I was never allowed past the living room. I always wanted to explore the house, it was so big. Well, to me it was. Everything looks big when you're little. For a long time, all I saw was the dusty living room with it's faded green couch and old broken TV. And 1970s yellow carpet. Uck. (She scrunched up her face, which I always thought was cute).
But one time mom dropped me off when no one was home, and Aunt Gina had forgotten to lock the front door. It was kind of a big thing to me, to be able to see the rest of the house, but it turned out to be pretty boring mostly. My Aunt was pretty poor and was all her life. I found out much later that she had actually been born and raised in that house, she died in it too. Kind of sad if you ask me. Anyways...sorry I keep getting off track.
It's alright...
(She sighed) There was pretty much nothing upstairs. My aunt slept in a room off the living room, I think. I remember how the floor was all dusty and I left my footprints in it. I thought this was really weird and kind of cool. I wrote my name with my fingers in it and made hand prints. The upstairs was basically a hallway with two door on either side. Their was nothing in the first one, a skeletal frame of a bed, I think. There was a bunch of hangers in the closet which kind of freaked me out. I don't know why. Weird things scare you when you're a kid.
The next room down was locked but when I looked through the keyhole, I could see another bed frame, but this one had a mattress on it. There was something just beyond what I could see, something hanging from the ceiling. It must have been moving slightly, because it would go in and out of sight. It was something pale, possibly white, but that's all I could make out. After trying to figure out what it was for a long time, I realized I could hear the creak of whatever was holding it up as it moved. This wouldn't scare me until I thought about it years later.
The room across the hallway was open and this was the weirdest thing because the windows were all boarded up and it was dark inside. When I hit the lightswitch I could see that the wallpaper was all torn up, very badly. Whatever had done it had left huge gashes in the plaster as well, gashes that looked like claw marks. And it smelled, it smelled so bad. It was like wet dog mixed with old dirt and rot. I closed the door and ran downstairs. I never opened that last door.
And that was it?
Pretty much. I know, an awful story right? Well I did think about exploring the basement but I took one look down the dark stairs and there was no fucking way I was going down there. Andrea, it's your turn. Tell us a story...
Wait, when your aunt died, didn't anyone go through the house?
No, there was a fire and the place burnt to the ground, with Great Aunt Gina in it. Anyways, my story sucked. Andrea, your turn...