The Roswell Crash

The UFO Crash Landing, Roswell, New Mexico

I was wrested from bed in the middle of the night. Why I was already asleep, I couldn't say. All I know is that I was pulled from a pool of congealing vomit and out from under the oversized, terrifyingly hairy (and sweaty!) arm of a kangaroo-manchild named "Cooter Preference." I only remember this because as I was led from my bed I recalled spying a "Hello! I am..." sticker poorly pasted on the marsupial's chest. I recall shouting and slapping at these men, beating them about the face, neck and chest. They relented not, and by sunrise I was tied to a fucking outhouse onboard dumb-ass bus united states. The windows are blacked out on this motherfucker and some asshead has shoved his sweaty thong into my mouth and duct taped it to my face with like eight fucking rolls. I had four extremely strong cups of coffee and several pieces of three-day old sushi at around 2am, so I waxed burp-up through all the little folds and bends in the tape, spilling the refuse over my blouse and onto the floor in rotting, putrid splashes. A man next to me barfed after my episode, which made me barf again and it was really starting to piss me off.

I peed myself.

So anyway, we’re riding along on this god damned bus and my head feels like someone has shoved a plunger into my brain and suctioned the shit out of it, screaming like a demonic monkey for three days straight. Finally, I wriggle from my sex bindings and rip the tape from my mouth. I start hollering at the top of my lungs to “LET ME OUT OR YOU WILL ALL DIE!” This fucker (the asshole that barfed) slipped me a torn photo of Lynda Carter and whispered something about sexual healing. I crumpled it in my fist and backhanded him. “GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF, YOU CRYPTIC WANKER!” He summarily urinated himself and passed out in tears. I snorted at him and sought the first authoritative figure I could find. I stood and shoved my forefinger into his man breasts and said, “Hey, FUCK YOU, MOTHER! Where the hell do you think you’re taking me?!” He smirked a little and lowered his pistol, which is when I pulled it from his arms and shoved the shootin’ end up his ass, shouting “I AM LOCKED AND LOADED, MOTHERFUCKER! NOW WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME!!!” while making these fake cocking noises over and over again and screaming “BOOM! BOOM!” after each one. He was whimpering and crying “PLEASE! PLEASE OH MY GOD NO! I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!” I exchanged the pistol for my kong bazooka and showed him what real love is. "OH MY SWEET JESUS NO!" he squealed, then I penetrated his ham-hole with my missile of Christ. He began really screaming when I started the chainsaw.

Anyway, the bus driver immediately pulled the bus over and leaped off in a panic. I pulled a disgusting clown mask from my assss crack and threw it on, then charged the motherfucker screaming “BOOGABOOGA, YOU SWEET TITS!” The driver fell to his knees in the dust and pleaded with me saying “Please! Please demon clown head, do not take my life!” So I shot him in the back of the head with his own weapon. That’s when I saw where we were.

The loud retort from the gunshot bounced off the craft and back causing me to realize where in the hell we were headed. “Why the fuck didn’t you say something?!” I said to the moron I'd been raping on the bus. He'd stumbled from the open door and was crying in the sand, his bare ass in the wind. I ran to him and pulled my clown mask off, then stabbed him to death with a bull horn while humming the credits tune from “Perfect Strangers.” The other passengers on the bus were useless so I lit a fire in the gas tank and let them burn, still bound to their seats. I yelled, over and over again, “THE WORLD IS A VAMPIRE!” attempting my best impersonation of Bill Corgan to muffle their screams. Well I spun around and there sat the shit mobile I assume we were after. The bus had been an Air Force shuttle. The man I stabbed, a Colonel with Air Force Intelligence. And suddenly it was all so clear. After forging my way into this hell hole position as a weapons communication officer, I was placed in charge of all this bullshit at an Air Force base in Roswell, New Mexico. Well, long story short, they had taken me to some sort of crash site. This is July 6th, 1947.

I walked over to the wreckage. It was terrible. Pieces of actual human shit were all over the place along with at least three bodies. I barfed. One of the bodies was moving a little, sorta crawling along and I saw immediately that it was some sort of weird, fucked up creature. I barfed again, all over my open toed sandals...and the puke spread between my toes like warm, gelatinous rat semen. The creature was aware of me and seemed terrified. It have every right to be as I had put the clown mask back on and was sodomizing the bus driver’s corpse while pointing at the fucking thing, whatever it was, as if to say “You’re next, big boy.” Well when I finished with messy cumshot, I trounced over to the crash and checked the other two creatures. They were both dead. One of them had his fucking head torn off. I barfed again. I peed myself again, which was weird because I didn’t have to pee. I came upon the wounded one and got up close and personal. It was breathing real hard, as if it were out of breath or couldn’t breathe our air or some shit. It smelled like decaying fecal penis and was real slimy too. It was looking at me with these big friendly eyes, sorta whimpering, obviously hurt and scared. I smiled. And I whispered:

Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown in courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, where most may wonder at the workmanship. 

Then I broke its neck. 

I sat on the edge of the tattered craft for a good while, watching the smoldering bus and the streaks of smoke smearing the sky overhead. I was crying heavily and I don’t know why. I sat there for probably three hours, chain smoking until finally the cavalry arrived. When they did, it was some smart ass general who was in my face about everything. He needed to know this and that and all this unnecessary shit. I pretended I didn’t speak English until finally he lost his shit and starting raising his voice. He demanded an explanation, as crews in yellow suits tagged and bagged everything around me to be shipped off to some secret facility. “WHY IS THE BUS DESTROYED? WHO KILLED COLONEL PENSON?” etc etc. His staff stood behind him, silent and with worried expressions. I sat there contemplating everything he was asking before finally I simply told him…I told them all…

“This is how I found them.”

I left him there. Him and his staff. Dumbfounded and stupid, standing there in the desert morning. I made my way to Texas, where I developed an epic case of the clap and began working part time at a Bob’s Hamburgers.

The Forty-Seven Bonin'

The Revenge of the Forty-Seven Ronin

These were hard times. I mean hard, fucking bonerific times. I couldn’t get a job to save my life. Drinking out of cat piss barrels, snoozing in the womb of a prostitute named “Brandi,” I wandered from village to village, feigning insanity (which wasn’t hard) and pretending to have contracted leprosy. Everywhere I went; women and child alike would dart from me, screaming holy rape. I stumbled along, bottle of sake the size of my demon cannon in my hand, swinging my god damn katana like an infected garbage crab until I would eventually crash into some fucking rice-paper house then piss myself. As I said, hard fucking times.

About three years earlier, I ended up in some urinal called Honshῡ, playing house-retard to some rat in flowing robes. Day 1 some shithead throws me a blade and tells me to run around swatting at people who got too close to our liege. So I spent my days galloping around like a gilded tampon, swinging my sword at flabbergasted villagers whilst sucking on opium pipes and fuckin’ hookers. Anyway, one day I get this message from my sweet, sweet, blond anal boy informing me that our liege has committed seppuku. I didn’t know what the fuck that meant so I beat him down with a rock hard loaf of bread until he burped something about his mother and passed out. I stood there for a moment, watching him curled and pooing, until this big samurai I NEVER liked came barging in, his wonch hanging out and fully armored. He was screaming at me –I mean the fucker was SCREAMING at me– that I needed to suit up and meet him in the courtyard. Well I puked a little samswanch puddle as I was still hammered from the night before, threw on my armor (backward as I’d never really learned how to put that shit on anyway) and marched out toward the courtyard. On a lighter note, the armor was custom and hella classic. I had this little mole-rat of a boy do mine up (although it was considered “honorable” to oversee the construction yourself, I forced the slope to work through it during blow jobs and messy cumshots.) I had him build me a fucking dick for a helmet. No joke. The helmet was a giant penis. It looked awesome and glorious. Everyone else thought I was a lunatic, but who fucking cares? I was. I was a true samurai dick head LOL.

So I run out to the white gravel courtyard and on my way, I trip over this little bald dink raking fucking circles in the rock. I was so pissed I chopped at him with a little tinkle spoon and shouted that he was my new concubine. He squealed something in Japanese about me not being respectful or some shit so I kicked him in the mouth and wiped my grease on his toilet paper robe because I liked him. He fell to the ground muttering something about salmon belly rolls. Moving on, I saw that all the assholes in the guard had assembled. All three hundred or so, which concerned me BECAUSE THAT MEANT SOME MAUFUGGIN SHIT WAS ABOUT TO GO DOWN!!!!!!!!

Ōishi, our leader, stood in the center, solemn as a flaccid pebble-pipe on the Chinese New Year. He was meditating. I burped a sliver of seaweed and spat it on a passing porter - he cried. I felt a warming sensation in my crotch and realized I was more fudged up than I thought and that I was pissing myself AGAIN. "Jesus, again with the pissing!" I mumbled. This made me giggle for a few moments until I heard Ōishi speak. He said our lord had been forced to commit ritual suicide and that his family had been shamed, his retainers now ronin.

Well this was great news. This was great fucking news. So I threw my dick helmet in the air and shouted “WOOHOO!” because sarcasm wasn't really commonplace yet. Many of the samurai, now ronin, walked off in disbelief, kinda grumbling and crying. I was busy chopping up this statue of a pagoda with my little dagger, whooping and hollering like a trashed bitch! I did this for about an hour as the others walked away, some stopped to stare in disbelief at what I was doing. When I finally came to, I saw Ōishi still standing in the courtyard along with maybe fifty others. “Roy-San! You will stay or you will dishonor the Akō Domain! You will dishonor our daimyo Asano Takumi-no-Kami Naganori! With dishonor, your freedom! And as are all freedoms, you will die ignorant! Stay, Roy-San, and you will know the true meaning of honor! And as are all lotus, honor will bloom for you again and again!” Well Jesus on a fucking Toyota I had no clue what he was yammering about, but he convinced me with these strange words to join their circle. With a squint and a nasty fart, I walked to them. Here I learned they planned revenge. Kira Kozuke-no-Suke Yoshinaka, the cocksucker who’d betrayed our lord, was the source of our new reckoning, and with his death, forever honored our liege would be. I felt like I was in a fucking US Army recruiting commercial, but it made sense.

Now, usually I’d go halfway around the world for a great orgy, but wouldn’t muster the energy to cross the street for a noble cause. This time, it was all so very strange. I knew in my soul, I had to make right this wrong. Or perhaps it was the special mushroom clump I found near the shitter and eaten with breakfast. We circle jerked it and counted heads, made a secret oath that we would avenge our fallen master. Forty seven of us stood in that courtyard, planning what would be known as the assault of Asano Naganori on Kira Yoshinaka in the Matsu no Ōrōka of Edo Castle.

Three years passed loaded with debauchery. Ōishi and I went apeshit in the towns. I mean APE. As guessed, Kira sent spies to infiltrate our group; to be sure no harm would be coming to him. They were fully disappointed. Ōishi and I would hit up the whore-houses like every fucking night and get just so trashed that I was producing diarrhea in my shorts almost on command (like a frozen yogurt machine.) I was raping and pillaging like never before. I murdered two small children for rubbing my penis helmet when I dropped it outside a brothel. I raped fourteen virgin bros outside a Geisha squat for acting too much like me. I was chopping down cherry trees just to saw off one tooth pick to wedge out the shit (human) in my teeth. I was having so much fun that Ōishi had to take me aside one night and calm me down. He said we were just pretending to live this lifestyle and when it came time to act, that we must all be ready. I thought he was kidding because as I understood it, we were all just fucking around until the BIG fuck around came. Well once those fucking spies found Ōisho and I passed out in the street in puddles of our own fecal belch, they returned to Kira and told him ain’t no thang. Kira let his guard down and Ōish decided it was time.

We spent the next few weeks infiltrating Edo with weapons, which was a big fat fucking nononononono. Bunch of the other assholes started making their way inward. Some looked more fucked up than I felt. I got a job at the actual fucking castle as a cat pauper or ratshit scooper or fucking toilet attendant I don’t really remember what because I spent most of my time barfing into the royal bedrooms and stealing bulk rice wine. Later that week I managed to clamber up onto the fucking roof and was playing with my human dildo when I passed out in the darkness there. I set my rooster alarm for 25 minutes. This is Genroku 15, on the 14th day of the 12th month.

Fifteen minutes later I’m up to my elbows in fecal wipe and fucking snow. There was an angry head wind that had blown my knickers off the roof and into the yard where I was supposed to meet the other forty six. I barfed, feeling real nasty and made my way down to where I’d stashed my armor. Four of my colleagues were descending from the wall when I finally made my way. I met them in the middle and knocked out the guard there with my pulsating wong hatchet. By then Ōishi’s drum was rattling, signaling the coordinated attack. We posted some archers on the roof to cut down any attempt by Kira’s retainers to send for help, and made our way to the back door. I was so drunk I threw up again on the tiled floor and slipped on my ass, knocking over this large statue of a gyrating wolverine or something. Well fuck, that woke up Kira’s retainers from the rear barracks and charging in they came. The first two I killed immediately because when the door swung wide, they were terrified to see my gargantuan penis helmet (the rest of my armor I had to recreate as we were shamed out of our original armor. They penis helmet I reconstructed out of yak hair and human testicle skin) charging at them full throttle. They turned and ran and I struck them down in my drunken fury. Several tried to run for help, but our archers got them, and I couldn’t resist boning the corpses in the midnight snowfall.

After 25 minutes of fierce battle, Ōishi and the rest made our way to Kira’s bedroom. He was nowhere to be found. Ōishi touched the bed and, sensing it was still warm, assumed he couldn’t be far. I barfed on his hand touching the bed. “Jesus!” he said and shook the vomit from his hand and sword. Fuck me I felt like a burned out clam shell, like the foreskin of a bloated penile in a blender set to liquify, like testicles in a popcorn machine. By now it was starting to turn that open brain matter grey in the sky and I was blatantly urinating myself due to lack of spunk. Others in my crew would grab and shake me, demanding that I get a hold of myself. I would just laugh like a deranged manfish and swat at them with a broken Nerf bow. Finally we found the dink hiding in a charcoal hut toilet bowl and we chop his god damn head off. I was so fucking sick I immediately stumbled into the night where I proceeded to puke my bowels out into the snow. 

I passed out there for a week straight whilst working off the meth, opium and crack binge. I awoke to villagers poking at me with shit smelling sticks, asking me if I was one of the “ronin.” “Get the FUCK OFF OF ME!” I screamed and swatted at the dickfors. They ran from me squealing like children when I produced my bloodied baby batter wand and began charging them like a maniac monkey god. A few days later, I was calm enough to ask a friend what happened. He told me that ----I STOPPED HIM THERE BECAUSE I HAD TO TAKE A MASSIVE CRAP AND TO KEEP IT FROM JAMMING ITSELF IN MY DOODLE DIAPERS, I WANKED HIS HEAD OFF WITH MY FUCKING JAGGED KATANA!!!!!!! 元禄十五年十二月十四日!!!!!!!!!

The fate of LZ 129

The Hindenburg Disaster

God damnit. I got my snotty ass kicked out of Berlin when I was 12. I'd been dealing with this tripe snorting motherfucker of some "new" political party. The guy was an assblaster. I mean a real dog sucking mole shit. He wore a brown shirt like it was glued to his rotting body. Sometimes he'd come home to ravage my rank bod and I'd try to claw at him and tear it off like a deranged hyena, screaming at him, "NO, NO PLEASE GOOD SIR SHOW ME YOUR ASSY NIPPLES!" He would only cringe and recoil like a fucking rat baby. At which point I'd have to beat him about the balls like he was a god damn balloon animal from hell. He would just lay there after, this little smirk on his face as I pissed into his mouth. Anyway, my German was no good and I barely understood him half the time. If anyone asked me why I was always around him, I'd just retort that I was his sex slave, his nasty, nasty, stinking concubine and I beat it off into his gully for franks and beans. I would tell people this, yes. But the honest truth is that I'd made my way into the Fatherland via rat boat.

I snuck on at New York Harbor, murdering a small, retarded porter and stealing his clothes. I spent the 3 week trip wreaking havoc on the tiny steamer, until eventually I'd either chained up most of the crew in a small sex hole, or I'd thrown them overboard. I was quite a sprite at that age. Eventually, I made my way into Berlin and I found this hob knobbler marching along with all these other hob knobblers and he looked ripe so I pantsed him and stole his wallet. The stink bomb took the bait and went charging after me. When he eventually caught me, I turned to him and smiled and he shrieked because my mouth was all bloodied from eating rat guts for the past week. He began to run but I struck him down with this makeshift rubber mallet I was carrying in this makeshift holster. He fell to the ground and he pulled a little plastic knife and tried to jab it at me like some fucking blind dumbass. I kicked at the dink knife and it flew away into the gutter. He threw up his hands to surrender, shouting "NEIN NEIN NEIN!" so I slapped him in the face with my kong balloon and he fell silent. We made sweet love inside this burnt out building. I will admit, to be fair to his memory, he would probably have called it brutal rape, but I really enjoyed myself, so I must refer to it as making sweet, sweet hot sweet sex hole love. Well, before I get too carried away and belch in my knickers I'll get back to my tale.

So eventually this assblaster was fed up. He would just cry whenever I came into his flat. I mean the bastard couldn't get rid of me and I understood. I used to follow him to his stupid political rallies and jeer at him and say funny things like "HE'S GAY HE'S GAY!" or "HE DOUCHES HIS MUFFIN TOP!! or they really loved this one: "HE SINGS EDITH PIAF WHILE HE MASTURBATES!" Haha, omg LOL that still gets me cause he would be so embarrassed. Anyway, one night, I am sound asleep in his wet spot and he's fartin' up a wet storm and I'm dreaming about clowns with penis heads when all of a sudden the door bursts open and a dozen of these goomba storm troopers come marching in. They wrest me from the toilet hole and blindfold me and throw me into the back of this meat-wagon. To this day, I still do not know what happened to my sweet, brown-shirt-wearing assblaster. Well I'm kicking up a storm, biting and butt pooing and spittin' and yelling like a fucked up cat and none of these bastards are saying a word. That gets me, so I erect my love rocket and start pissing. I hear someone scream and another began to beat me about the crotch until finally I passed out. When I came to, I was still bound and gagged, but I was on a god damned blimp.This is Thursday, May 6, 1937.

Oh my christ I was so fuming mad. I was in this little dink of a room, on the floor surrounded by cleaning products. They'd shaved my head and my nono hairs, much to my chagrin. I was all bloodied, but after I slipped from the barbed-wire bindings, I took a real long log jammin' sesh out the slightly ajar window. I found 20 franks in my pocket along with a note, which read: (translated from pig latin)

My sweet Roy. I realised that after our sex time, I did and do love you. But it was not meant to be. My party found out about our makings and I am loyal to my Fatherland and what is right and just for humanity. When our persecutors rise from the ashes of diplomacy, we will show our faces, pure and unblemished. May the forces of our better nature command these times, and may you always remember me as one who shown he hath faith in the most honest of races. Yours, Helmut

"Erm, Helmut? The fuck kinda name is that" I said. Well I quit reading there although I saw there was a postscript that looked like it was another four fucking paragraphs long. I blew a raspberry, crumpled the note, wiped my ass good and hard then chucked the shit paper out the window. I needed a drink. I always kept a flask shoved into my shoe and luckily it was still there. It was filled with pure absinthe and I downed the fucker in probably ten seconds. It hit me immediately. I was hungry as a rabid rhino in heat so I went for the door in search of grub. The little rubber door was locked, from the outside. I began beating on it with my fists like an enraged landlord. I was screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to open up or else I would "BLOW THROUGH THIS FUCKER WITH MY PIPE HOLE AND INVADE THIS COCKSUCKER!" I heard a few muffled screams from the other side so I tore a small shelf from the wall and used it like a god damned battering ram until finally the door gave way.

I emerged from the steaming janitor closet hallucinating like a mushroom on mushrooms inside of a horse fecal pile on Mars. Some dinky little porter comes up to me and tries to calm me down, but instead I wrest a vase from a little end table and bash it over his head. He went down with a fart. Then another little porter (I swear they were all midgets) comes running up to me crying that I beat up his friend, so I round-house kicked him in the face and his dumb ass went flying out the window. All these people were coming out of all these fucking rooms and I thought for a second I was in a god damned hotel. They were all staring at me and they started to look like they had pig heads and this made me scream. I recoiled in horror as they began chanting something about the "good of the people" and closing in on me. Well I had no idea where the fuck I was going. Every room I would pass there would be some asshole with like a pigeon head or a frog head and they would be hissing at me or masturbating and laughing or throwing spit wads and oh my god there were so many spiders and they were biting me all over my body and I was itching like mad. Finally I found a toilet and I began belching my brains out. I laid there after about forty minutes of vomiting, my feet pressed against the door with all of my might to keep the animal people out. I'm pretty sure I saw the door handle jiggle throughout. "STAY OUT YOU FUCKING FREAKS!" I was screaming. Well I finally started to come out of my ass hysteria and realized I wasn't in a bathroom at all. That somehow I'd wriggled my way into the guts of this aircraft and I'd been puking on all these workers. They were cowering in the corner staring at me like shit mice. I burped long and acidic then lit a cigarette. They all started screaming at me "NEIN DIR KANNST NICHT! NICHT RAUCHEN!" "Shut the FUCK UP!" I shouted and took a long hard drag then flicked the burning cigarette down at them. All of a sudden everything went to shit. The butt landed on something flammable and it ignited. A huge fireball engulfed the entire area. I was able to ride the burning shit pile down to some fucking field where I landed softly and made my escape. I watched the piece of shit burn up like a god damn candle. Some asshole next to me was crying and screaming "OH THE HUMANITY!" I bitch slapped him and told him to grow up. He urinated himself and ignored me.

I got bored and stole a car then made my way into the city where I spent the next few weeks strung out on heroin in a motel with some hooker named "Moses." 

Not the highest point in my life.