I'll do the story tomorrow night that uses you guyes crazy random ideas but I've got this one boiling in me from listening to this song over and over:
The subject matter creeps the Hell out of me but it's such a cool song, I keep playing it and now it's wormed it's way into my brain and won't leave. Damn that killer guitar solo! Damn it to Heck!
Story:
He knew right away that she was the one he wanted on the first drive-by. It was too perfect: an angelic little girl blonde haired girl, sitting in the front yard all alone. The key world was "alone." Where were her parents? He drove by in his black van a few more times and didn't see anyone. No one moved in the windows of the run down house behind her, no doors opened, no mothers came out with laundry to hang on the line. Any normal person would have thought it was strange, but Ray was too horny for rational thought at that moment. That's how it usually was except for the occasional moments when he'd come to his senses and all the shame at the things he had done would come flooding in. But then he'd push it down into his stomach where it would get eaten by stomach acid and dissolve.
On the fourth turn around the block he cautiously pulled up to the curb and opened the driver's side door. The little blonde haired girl in the faded pink dress didn't move, didn't even look up. He yelled over to her,
"Hey, little girl! Hey!"
She turned her face to him.
"Come here little girl, I've got candy!" At this she got up and walked over to the van.
She had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. As he looked her over, dirty thoughts caroused through his mind at what he would do to this little girl, what he would make those blue eyes see. To any normal person what flashed into his head would sicken and horrify, but to Ray it warmed him like a fireplace on a cold morning. He took a sucker from a bag on the passenger seat and cooed as she took it from him,
"Thats a good girl, there's lots more candy and fun things at my house, just get in the van and we can go home and play!"
The girl didn't unwrap the sucker, didn't say a word, just opened the van door and climbed in. Ray didn't even think about how strange the whole thing was, he had his prey and that was all that mattered. He quickly shut the van door and sped off.
For the whole drive out of town the little girl didn't say a word. She sat in the back of the van with the sucker dangling between her fingers. He looked at her in the rear-view mirror and licked his lips, fondling his crotch while he drove. They pulled up to his back woods shack...
When he opened the door, the girl didn't move.
"Come on now, lets go have some fun!" He said and licked his lips again.
The girl climbed out of the van and he picked her up by the waist, carrying her into his "house."
Most of Ray's cramped living space was taken up by dirty magazines, both adult and underage. He set the girl on a soiled mattress and dug through a pile of them. He pulled out a magazine that had a picture of a girl wearing a red-riding hood costume on the cover and handed it to her. He was breathing hard.
"Now, you read that magazine. Thats what we're going to be doing and and if you just listen to me and do what I say, we'll have lots of fun."
The girl held the magazine limply in her hands and didn't move.
"Now, what did I just say? Open the magazine up and..."
He tried to open it for her but she grabbed his wrist. To his surprise, her grip was quite strong.
"Don't touch me." She said sternly and let go of his wrist.
Ray was taken aback. None of the girls he had taken here had ever talked back to him like this. The had all been scared, or had been eventually.
He looked at his wrist. Goddamn little bitch's hand had left bruises. How the Hell was that possible? He pushed the thought and the nagging doubt in his mind into his stomach. He was horny and was going to get what he wanted. He smacked her hard across the face, knocking her onto the bed. His erection was throbbing and his breath came out labored as he looked at her slight form, lying in a patch of sunlight from the window. He hovered over her and grabbed her dress...
Suddenly she sat up.
"I thought I told you not to touch me!" She yelled and shoved him hard, sending him flying across the small room. He tripped on a box full of rusty hand tools and fell, almost breaking his neck on a fry pan with a broken handle. Before he could get up she was standing by his side, looking down into his face. She put a foot in his groin and pushed down hard.
"Do you remember me Ray?" She said in a sweet little girls voice. "My name was Stacy."
Suddenly it all came back in a rush. For the first time in his life, Ray was legitimately frightened.
"It can't be, y-you're dead! I killed you! You're dead!"
"I was your first wasn't I Ray? How many were there after that? I bet you don't even know, I bet you lost count."
"Please just let me go I'll..." Ray stammered out.
"I asked you to let me go too, didn't I Ray? Don't you remember? That's what I was yelling the whole time you were on top of me."
He tried to get up but her foot was stepping on his crotch and he couldn't move. She leaned over and put her hands on his forehead. The pain of his testicles popping was minor compared to the heat that came from her hands. It was searing and it felt like his brain was on fire. Suddenly she was gone and Ray sat up, clutching his wounded groin. He could still feel the heat from her hands but it was getting smaller and smaller. It stopped contracting at the middle of his forehead and for a few seconds there was nothing. Then he screamed and thrashed his whole body in convulsive spasms, sending magazines and junk flying in all directions. Then he couldn't move because he was suffocating under a great weight as pain, worse than any he had ever known ripped through his body. It reached a horrible, unbearable peak and then was gone. Then it came again. And again, and again. As he screamed and wished for death, Ray got to experience child rape from a different perspective, once for every little girl he had hurt. When it was all over he splattered his brains all over the back wall of his run down shack. Nobody found his body except for hungry wolves that winter.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Flibbertygibbit
Story up tomorrow, I'm too darn tired tonight. And yes it will have furries in it, possibly on fire. And toilets, and sky explosions, and moldy ham, and antacid, and nerd zombies...am I promising too much? Probably. Anything else I should try and shoehorn into this epic?
Currently listening to: The Wipers. You need to ask yourself right now: Why am I not listening to The Wipers? Seriously, you can buy a box set of their first three albums for dirt cheap, you have no reason not to give Greg Sage a chance!
Shoot, I was trying to think of something else interesting to say. I hate being tired. But I like writing though, even if its just random crap that I'll never show to anyone. It makes me feel normal and sane. I wonder if it was like that for other great writers, they had to do it or go nuts. Of course, some of them did go insane or were insane already. I'd say that all great writers are a little crazy, they have to be otherwise their work would be boring....
Oh and who saw Brett Michaels get nailed by that piece of scenery? Hi-larious. Poison was and still is a horrible band. I don't care what anyone says, Every Rose has It's Thorn is cheesy maudlin crap. I don't hate them as much as Extreme though. Their name is false advertising. Oh yeah, lets just hate on 80s hairbands now right? Thats topical. Hey, shut up. It's my rambling blog post and I'll say what I damn well please. I hate all 80s hair bands. Except for Skid Row and I don't think they really count.
Oh hey, he wasn't going to write a story out tonight but he has time and energy to waste our time with pointless shit. What a fucking hypocrite.
The voices in my head are insulting me. I'd better just chug a bottle of sleeping pills and go to bed.
Oh and if you can, go see Up. It's a very good movie. But very sad, if you cry easily at movies, bring a box of tissues.
And I'm out...
Currently listening to: The Wipers. You need to ask yourself right now: Why am I not listening to The Wipers? Seriously, you can buy a box set of their first three albums for dirt cheap, you have no reason not to give Greg Sage a chance!
Shoot, I was trying to think of something else interesting to say. I hate being tired. But I like writing though, even if its just random crap that I'll never show to anyone. It makes me feel normal and sane. I wonder if it was like that for other great writers, they had to do it or go nuts. Of course, some of them did go insane or were insane already. I'd say that all great writers are a little crazy, they have to be otherwise their work would be boring....
Oh and who saw Brett Michaels get nailed by that piece of scenery? Hi-larious. Poison was and still is a horrible band. I don't care what anyone says, Every Rose has It's Thorn is cheesy maudlin crap. I don't hate them as much as Extreme though. Their name is false advertising. Oh yeah, lets just hate on 80s hairbands now right? Thats topical. Hey, shut up. It's my rambling blog post and I'll say what I damn well please. I hate all 80s hair bands. Except for Skid Row and I don't think they really count.
Oh hey, he wasn't going to write a story out tonight but he has time and energy to waste our time with pointless shit. What a fucking hypocrite.
The voices in my head are insulting me. I'd better just chug a bottle of sleeping pills and go to bed.
Oh and if you can, go see Up. It's a very good movie. But very sad, if you cry easily at movies, bring a box of tissues.
And I'm out...
Friday, June 5, 2009
Ichthyophilia: A Story of Lust
I will apologize in advance for the following story...
It all started the night mother made soup for dinner instead of the usual evening meal of whatever she could scrape off the road that day. I was excited to get to eat something without gravel or maggots, or at least with cooked gravel or maggots in it. I looked that steaming pot sitting on our splintery table and my mouth filled with saliva. Then she plopped it down on my hubcap plate. I stared at it as the wind whistled through the chinks in our tar paper shack and mother stared at me.
"Well, what ya waiting fer boy? Eat it!" She yelled and smacked me on the head.
"I had to blow that old fishmonger for an hour to get that, now eat it!" Then she smacked me again.
I picked up my rusty fork and poked at the salmon's head in front of me. Suddenly my heart started to race and I felt dizzy. How could I cut up and eat such a beautiful thing? I stared at it's slimy gills, its glassy eyes, and wide fishy lips. I wanted it, I wanted it so bad.
Mother smacked me again and I got hard in my bad area.
"Well," she said and crossed her arms.
I knew what I had to do. I knocked the hubcap onto the floor.
Mother screamed, "You miserable little brat, howa you gonna eat it now? It's filthy!"
She picked me up and threw me into a pile of rotting beef carcasses in the corner. She came at me, but I ducked past her and ran outside, into the maze of the junkyard. I hid in the trunk of an old Beetle and fell asleep.
I awoke several hours later and carefully slunk back to our shack. Mother was sneaky and she could have waited for me to come out but tonight the gas light was off and everything was quiet. By the light of the full moon I found my love sitting on our rot-pile.
"Hello Billy." She said in a sultry ladies voice.
"W-Whats your name?" I stuttered.
"Elizabeth. You want me don't you Billy?"
"Oh god yes."
"Then lets find a quiet spot, away from her."
I looked back at the shack, at the window in the corner where mother slept. It was still dark. I picked Elizabeth up and ran.
My happy quiet spot was in the very middle of the junk yard, a clearing in a pile of rusting cars. I sat down and looked into her beautiful glassy eyes. I ran my hands across her slimy scales.
"Oh, take me Billy!" She yelled.
No matter how many fish heads I've loved, I never forgot my first. I never forgot how good it felt to push past those lips into the slimy innards. I never forgot the smell or the way she felt in my hands. I thrusted again and again, heaving and pushing, till finally it was all over.
I lay down in the dirt with Elizabeth on my chest.
"Was it good for you?" I whispered to her softly.
"Oh yes," She replied.
"Do you love me?
"Oh Billy, I'll love you till the day I rot away."
Then we kissed, slowly at first, but then full tongue. I got hard again. We were making sweet sweet love for the third time when I heard a noise behind me and turned.
There was mother standing at the far end of the clearing with the punishment bat in her hand. I never forgot the look on her face. Then the hitting started.
I woke up in the well. Mother had put the cover on this time and the only light was coming from a shrine of St. Andrew in front of me that I was supposed to pray to for forgiveness. All I could do was cry for my lost love.
Thanks Spumkin, I think....
Who's got another story idea?
It all started the night mother made soup for dinner instead of the usual evening meal of whatever she could scrape off the road that day. I was excited to get to eat something without gravel or maggots, or at least with cooked gravel or maggots in it. I looked that steaming pot sitting on our splintery table and my mouth filled with saliva. Then she plopped it down on my hubcap plate. I stared at it as the wind whistled through the chinks in our tar paper shack and mother stared at me.
"Well, what ya waiting fer boy? Eat it!" She yelled and smacked me on the head.
"I had to blow that old fishmonger for an hour to get that, now eat it!" Then she smacked me again.
I picked up my rusty fork and poked at the salmon's head in front of me. Suddenly my heart started to race and I felt dizzy. How could I cut up and eat such a beautiful thing? I stared at it's slimy gills, its glassy eyes, and wide fishy lips. I wanted it, I wanted it so bad.
Mother smacked me again and I got hard in my bad area.
"Well," she said and crossed her arms.
I knew what I had to do. I knocked the hubcap onto the floor.
Mother screamed, "You miserable little brat, howa you gonna eat it now? It's filthy!"
She picked me up and threw me into a pile of rotting beef carcasses in the corner. She came at me, but I ducked past her and ran outside, into the maze of the junkyard. I hid in the trunk of an old Beetle and fell asleep.
I awoke several hours later and carefully slunk back to our shack. Mother was sneaky and she could have waited for me to come out but tonight the gas light was off and everything was quiet. By the light of the full moon I found my love sitting on our rot-pile.
"Hello Billy." She said in a sultry ladies voice.
"W-Whats your name?" I stuttered.
"Elizabeth. You want me don't you Billy?"
"Oh god yes."
"Then lets find a quiet spot, away from her."
I looked back at the shack, at the window in the corner where mother slept. It was still dark. I picked Elizabeth up and ran.
My happy quiet spot was in the very middle of the junk yard, a clearing in a pile of rusting cars. I sat down and looked into her beautiful glassy eyes. I ran my hands across her slimy scales.
"Oh, take me Billy!" She yelled.
No matter how many fish heads I've loved, I never forgot my first. I never forgot how good it felt to push past those lips into the slimy innards. I never forgot the smell or the way she felt in my hands. I thrusted again and again, heaving and pushing, till finally it was all over.
I lay down in the dirt with Elizabeth on my chest.
"Was it good for you?" I whispered to her softly.
"Oh yes," She replied.
"Do you love me?
"Oh Billy, I'll love you till the day I rot away."
Then we kissed, slowly at first, but then full tongue. I got hard again. We were making sweet sweet love for the third time when I heard a noise behind me and turned.
There was mother standing at the far end of the clearing with the punishment bat in her hand. I never forgot the look on her face. Then the hitting started.
I woke up in the well. Mother had put the cover on this time and the only light was coming from a shrine of St. Andrew in front of me that I was supposed to pray to for forgiveness. All I could do was cry for my lost love.
Thanks Spumkin, I think....
Who's got another story idea?
Heres the Dealio...
As you can probably tell from my lack of posts I've been pretty dry for inspiration lately. So heres something interesting I thought I'd try, I've seen some web comics do it a few times but with, you know, comics.
Give me an idea and I will write a story or a poem with it. It can be just a random word or a long pitch or whatever you want, throw em at me!
Give me an idea and I will write a story or a poem with it. It can be just a random word or a long pitch or whatever you want, throw em at me!
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Traumatizing Cartoons But First...
Something else to make Spumkin jealous:
Erhrm. Okay. Today as I sat idly bored at work I started to think about what my earliest memory was. I had thought for a long time that it was when a tornado blew the roof off of our trailer while our babysitter freaked out and tried to make my brother and me stay down on the floor with our hands covering our necks but there's other odd things that come to mind if I think back very hard. They're almost surreal dream-like memories though and don't make a whole lot of sense.
(I have a very freaky memory of sleeping at what I think was my grandma's old house and watching her plush animals scurry around the sides of the bed which was most likely a dream. I hope.)
Then I started to think back to what would have been the first cartoon I remember watching and I came up with two from when I would have been three or four years old.
The first is the animated version of Charlotte's Web. I think we had it on VHS tape but it seems to have vanished somewhere down the line (along with my Ren and Stimpy comic books).
Charlotte's Web, despite the happy singing animals, is actually a pretty dark movie. The cartoon starts off with a cute little piggy being born on a farm. The pig is generally happy until the other animals explain to him that eventually the happy smiling farm family will kill and eat him for dinner. The pig does what anyone would do in such a situation: he runs off crying and hides in the barn where he's found by a friendly female spider. The spider saves his life by making the simple-minded hicks think he's got weird powers. The pig is happy again.
Then the spider dies.
THE SPIDER DIES!
I suppose it's good for kids to learn about loss and everything...but wait, she laid an egg sack! Now the pig has lots of friends! Oh Joy! But wait...they're leaving! Hey, come back! That's not fair! *sob*
A few do stay behind but it was still a huge wallop for a kid that had just learned not to poop himself. So yes, I learned about death from a cartoon where a rat eats garbage at a state fair. Sigh.
Then there was this cartoon called The Velveteen Rabbit. I really don't remember much about it except that this kid had a bunch of toys that would talk when he left the room. Then the kid got sick with some weird disease and everything in his room has to be destroyed, including his toys.
The only scene I can really recall is the scene where all his toys are getting shoved into a furnace. His happy talking toy friends are getting burned and just before the rabbit gets thrown in he says, and I never ever forgot it: "Oh, so that's what burned means."
Eeeeh, yeesh! I don't know if it's just looking back on it as an adult through the haze of very early childhood but damn that creeps me right out.
I have no idea what happened after that, I think I blocked the rest of the cartoon out.
At least I can sort of pinpoint why I've always been obsessed with horror and the macabre, thanks for the cartoons Mom!
Erhrm. Okay. Today as I sat idly bored at work I started to think about what my earliest memory was. I had thought for a long time that it was when a tornado blew the roof off of our trailer while our babysitter freaked out and tried to make my brother and me stay down on the floor with our hands covering our necks but there's other odd things that come to mind if I think back very hard. They're almost surreal dream-like memories though and don't make a whole lot of sense.
(I have a very freaky memory of sleeping at what I think was my grandma's old house and watching her plush animals scurry around the sides of the bed which was most likely a dream. I hope.)
Then I started to think back to what would have been the first cartoon I remember watching and I came up with two from when I would have been three or four years old.
The first is the animated version of Charlotte's Web. I think we had it on VHS tape but it seems to have vanished somewhere down the line (along with my Ren and Stimpy comic books).
Charlotte's Web, despite the happy singing animals, is actually a pretty dark movie. The cartoon starts off with a cute little piggy being born on a farm. The pig is generally happy until the other animals explain to him that eventually the happy smiling farm family will kill and eat him for dinner. The pig does what anyone would do in such a situation: he runs off crying and hides in the barn where he's found by a friendly female spider. The spider saves his life by making the simple-minded hicks think he's got weird powers. The pig is happy again.
Then the spider dies.
THE SPIDER DIES!
I suppose it's good for kids to learn about loss and everything...but wait, she laid an egg sack! Now the pig has lots of friends! Oh Joy! But wait...they're leaving! Hey, come back! That's not fair! *sob*
A few do stay behind but it was still a huge wallop for a kid that had just learned not to poop himself. So yes, I learned about death from a cartoon where a rat eats garbage at a state fair. Sigh.
Then there was this cartoon called The Velveteen Rabbit. I really don't remember much about it except that this kid had a bunch of toys that would talk when he left the room. Then the kid got sick with some weird disease and everything in his room has to be destroyed, including his toys.
The only scene I can really recall is the scene where all his toys are getting shoved into a furnace. His happy talking toy friends are getting burned and just before the rabbit gets thrown in he says, and I never ever forgot it: "Oh, so that's what burned means."
Eeeeh, yeesh! I don't know if it's just looking back on it as an adult through the haze of very early childhood but damn that creeps me right out.
I have no idea what happened after that, I think I blocked the rest of the cartoon out.
At least I can sort of pinpoint why I've always been obsessed with horror and the macabre, thanks for the cartoons Mom!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Random Things I Wrote in my Notebook at Work Today
If time is measured by the earth's rotation around the sun, how would we measure time in space if we lost contact with earth? Would time become irrelevant?
"There is no spoon" backwards is "noops on si ereht."
DIRTY LIMERICK COMING UP (DON'T READ IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE TO SUCH THINGS!!!!)
There once was a man named Rick
Who had huge bumps on his dick
They were of such a size
The men averted their eyes
But the ladies ran to him quick!
What is the farthest galaxy that man has been able to see?
According to the Internet it is Abell 1835 IR1916 which is about 31 billion light years away.
Nother poem (non-dirty this time):
Dylan wrote of Heaven's door
Zeppelin wrote of it's stairs
But the best bands have said
It's more fun to be dead
When all of your friends are there
One bad apple can make the whole bunch a hell of a lot more fun.
"There is no spoon" backwards is "noops on si ereht."
DIRTY LIMERICK COMING UP (DON'T READ IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE TO SUCH THINGS!!!!)
There once was a man named Rick
Who had huge bumps on his dick
They were of such a size
The men averted their eyes
But the ladies ran to him quick!
What is the farthest galaxy that man has been able to see?
According to the Internet it is Abell 1835 IR1916 which is about 31 billion light years away.
Nother poem (non-dirty this time):
Dylan wrote of Heaven's door
Zeppelin wrote of it's stairs
But the best bands have said
It's more fun to be dead
When all of your friends are there
One bad apple can make the whole bunch a hell of a lot more fun.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Marmaduke a Go-G0
"Marmaduke, you left your bones on the chair again!" Screamed the poorly drawn owner lady.
"Thats the last goddamn time!"
From the hall closet she pulled out a 40. Calibur shotgun.
"Oh you big stupid dog, you're getting it now!" She mumbled as she wandered through the poorly drawn house. But where was Marmaduke?
He wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't in the den. He wasn't in the yard. Where...
Suddenly a scream broke out from upstairs, a bloodcurdling scream that seemed to last forever and then was suddenly cut short.
Poorly drawn owner lady rushed up stairs and threw open the bedroom door. The smell of fresh blood hit her before her brain could process what her eyes were seeing and she vomited all over herself. There were blood and body parts all over the poorly drawn room. It was like it had gotten a new coat of paint. And in the middle of all the horrible gore was the big stupid dog himself, happily gnawing on a sneakered leg.
Poorly drawn owner lady aimed her shotgun and steeled herself...
Suddenly the door to the bathroom and out ran...Billy from Family Circus? Oh shit, owner lady knew she was in trouble. Billy was covered from head to toe in hand grenades and plastic explosive.
"You touch my eternal lover and we all die." Shouted Billy in the most annoying voice ever.
They all looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. Poorly drawn owner lady threw down her shotgun and ran as fast as she could to Ziggy's house. There she could rest up and think about her next step. And also make sweet sweet love to Ziggy's nose.
Next time: Billy hits his head and we flashback to just what really happened the rest of the Circus. It ain't pretty...
"Thats the last goddamn time!"
From the hall closet she pulled out a 40. Calibur shotgun.
"Oh you big stupid dog, you're getting it now!" She mumbled as she wandered through the poorly drawn house. But where was Marmaduke?
He wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't in the den. He wasn't in the yard. Where...
Suddenly a scream broke out from upstairs, a bloodcurdling scream that seemed to last forever and then was suddenly cut short.
Poorly drawn owner lady rushed up stairs and threw open the bedroom door. The smell of fresh blood hit her before her brain could process what her eyes were seeing and she vomited all over herself. There were blood and body parts all over the poorly drawn room. It was like it had gotten a new coat of paint. And in the middle of all the horrible gore was the big stupid dog himself, happily gnawing on a sneakered leg.
Poorly drawn owner lady aimed her shotgun and steeled herself...
Suddenly the door to the bathroom and out ran...Billy from Family Circus? Oh shit, owner lady knew she was in trouble. Billy was covered from head to toe in hand grenades and plastic explosive.
"You touch my eternal lover and we all die." Shouted Billy in the most annoying voice ever.
They all looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. Poorly drawn owner lady threw down her shotgun and ran as fast as she could to Ziggy's house. There she could rest up and think about her next step. And also make sweet sweet love to Ziggy's nose.
Next time: Billy hits his head and we flashback to just what really happened the rest of the Circus. It ain't pretty...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)