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AXE manspray

Lizzie Borden
Forgive me, I was pulled out of bed by my dick by several severely agitated federal agents and although I gave them nothing, it was still a rough start to my day – especially since I was still tripping on baker’s aerosol. Anyhow, I might be a little fuzzy on this one as I sit here, nude, clenching my butt-cheeks together and slurping day old Rainier. Fuck.

Back in the day, I worked the railway a good deal. I traveled from town to town, shredding the anile of multiple hobo dank bunz. The money was good, but every now and then I’d have to stop off in some douche bag and collect extra green for an anus re-sewing operation or something to that degree. I loved the railway though. Loved it. I became real close to this fuck-face named “Milky.” He was a real cunt sniffer and I mean that in the worst way. He loved to play the harmonica. I mean the cocksucker could manipulate the mouth-harp with his RUBBERY schlong!

This one day we were all riding along, Joe and the Crabs, Dirty ‘Boner’ Larry, Dustman, Gibbersdaffer and Milky. Milky is playing a mean harmonica and we are all just listening. I was watching that sparkling instrument with enormous desire. My eyes were glistening with lust. He was halfway through “Old Susannah” when I could contain myself no longer. I lunged at Milky. He screeched and threw his arms up in defense. I ripped that god damn harmonica from his mouth and shoved it up my own ass. There was this unanimous gasp from the other occupants before I spun around and shat the harp right back into Milky’s mouth. He was lying on the boxcar floor, crying and screaming “TIS THEE DEVEEL HISSELF! THE BEAST! OH LOORDY HELP US ALL!!” then his speech went into kind of a gurgle as his mouth filled with my doodie water. Without motive, I bashed him in the spleen with my boot heel and vomit sprayed all over the other motherfuckers in the car. They screamed as one and recoiled in terror to the darkened corner of the car. I grabbed the closest little bitch and looked him square in the eye. He was shivering and smelled as if he was literally living inside a campground outhouse shit-hole. “I’m pregnant,” I said in a real low-voice. “It’s yours.” Then I grabbed him by the pants and chucked him through the open door and into a ravine. I decided that was my cue. After six straight months of no showering and having only eaten rat semen and horse apples, I was ready for a god damn break. So as the fuckin’ trolley passed through this little town, I leapt from the boxcar shouting “GERONIMO, YA ASSHOOOOOOOOOOOOOLES!!!” and landed head first into a fucking cow.

Well I stood and sorta brushed off my nut sack. I left an impression of my face in the cow. So I brush my shit off and stumble toward town. I needed a god damn drink and I needed a god damn job. I stop just short of this stupid sign that read “Fall River.” Well I didn’t know where the fuck that was. The name sounded like a spot I used to dump bodies during high school. I went sauntering in to town along this god damn dusty road. It had to have been a hundred degrees outside. I was sweating. I had on these wool britches and I couldn’t handle the swamp crotch so I ripped them off. The stench was unbelievable. Unbelievable. I mean I almost passed out and you know it’s bad if I can’t hack it. Well immediately the flies are all over me. It was nice to have my cushion crumbs out in the wind, but the fucking flies were buzzing and hooting all around my hell no bouncies and I was getting real agitated. I hobbled around like that for about an hour. Townsfolk left and right were avoiding me like the plague. I kept extending my arms and rolling my eyes back in my head, reaching out to them and moaning like a retard. Little bits of vomit were spilling from my mouth and that smell, oh my god I smelled like a dead child that had been rotting in an old wine barrel in the hot hot heat for 2 weeks.

Well here I am, trudging along, my fucking pants around my ankles and I smell like God’s toilet after a storm at sea. I decide that I’ve got to get out of this heat. I went for the first house I saw, No. 92 Second Street. The residents had no idea I was coming that day and if they had, they would have run themselves shitting into the fields and bludgeoned themselves to death and then set themselves on fire after pouring battery acid into their ocular cavities while watching “Howie Mandell: Howie in Maui.” That being said, I wasn’t ready to fuck shit up, but after all these years, I still surprise myself. This is Thursday, August 4th, 1892.

I burst in through the fucking front door like the Philadelphia SWAT team and bash right into some old dude who was attempting (I can only assume) to go take a piss on his front porch. The hit was so massive that it knocked him out cold and flung him onto the couch like a ragdoll. I emitted an ear-splitting scream and ripped open my shirt like a fuckin’ werewolf. The old dude was out like a light, snoring like a baby. This younger looking chick comes running in to see what the matter was. I darted at her and shouted “WHO WANTS CHICKEN SEX?! HOW ABOUT YOU, BEAUTIFUL?!” Well my gunky lincoln log was flopping out in the wind already so I pumped it up and charged her. She screamed and began to run. I intercepted her with my long rod and she fainted. “FUCK THIS SHIT EVERYONE IS A PUSSY!” I heard a door close upstairs so I lunged up to the second floor, heated and ready for bloody semen cookies. The first door I laid eyes on I kicked open - like a god damn wicker basket it flew and slammed against the inside wall. This woman was standing there looking mortified. I grew a grin from ear to ear and within seconds I was doing a god damned monkey bone dance all over her vaginal paradise. She was hooting and hollering and wouldn’t shut the fuck up so just before I was about to play in the mud I bashed her in the back of the head with the old battle axe I used to hide in my pubic hair bush from Tulsa. She died immediately. I must’ve bashed at her fucking head forty fucking times. She keeled over in a lump of shit on the floor and I made haste. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, dear old dad was still passed out, but the chick that fainted was kinda coming to. I got up into her grill and said, “Hi little one. HIIIIII! What’s your name?? You sweet sweet thing. I can smell your stinkies…” She looked up from under her shaking brow and whimpered, “Elizabeth Borden…” I smiled and caressed her cheek. She began to cry. Then I grabbed a good hold of her curls and maniacally huffed:

Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother forty whacks.
And when she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty-one. 

(progressively getting louder)

Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother forty whacks.
And when she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty-one. 

(until I was screaming)

Lizzie Borden took an axe
And gave her mother forty whacks.
And when she saw what she had done,
She gave her father forty-one.

I pulled away from her, still chanting this lunacy at full blast. She was screaming. I spun toward the dude on the sofa and raised my battle axe high over my head. I screamed “LET’S REWRITE HISTORY, MOTHERFUCKERS!” and I bashed in that faggot’s skull. I swung again and again, hacking away at his fucking face, little Lizzie Borden shrieking behind. Well after about forty minutes of this nonsense, I decided it was time to get THE FUCK back to the railway. I pounced on Lizzie Borden and pinned her there. She was squirming around all nuts like. I hawked a real nasty loogie and let it string out from between my puckered lips. Just before it touched her squniching face, i slurped it back up. She squealed and I slapped her good and hard. "I was never here or else that loogie goes into your hole." I slapped her again for good measure then stood. I barged out of the house and threw my axe into the back of a passing wagon. I vomited on the dusty street after remembering I hadn’t had a drink in over two hours.

I never found a job, but I swiped a gold pocket watch I was able to barter for sex from an eleven year old kangaroo.

As the sun set at my back, I made my way toward the rail-line, humming that sweet sweet goodness.