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| Ted Bundy |
You see, Ted was a foolhardy sonofabitch. I first met him on the UO campus outside Bean Hall. I was jerking the veiny station wagon inside of a rhododendron, using a real choice glob of diarrhea I’d pilfered from an outhouse in Hayward Field as lubricant. I was about to evacuate my horse licorice all over the face of this retarded child I’d kidnapped earlier in the day from a McDonalds when good old Ted stumbled into my love warren. GET THE FUCK OUT! I screamed like a banshee, sure he would ruin my orgasm. But the look of shock on his face only made me hornier and I sprayed my lust nougat all over his god damned woolen sweater. He shrieked and recoiled just as I finished burping the last few drops of man eggs and that’s when the retard from McDonalds started to cry. LOOK WHAT YOU DID YOU LITTLE JERK! I shouted at Ted as I bashed him in the mouth with my pulsating cheese balloon of death. He fell to the ground, sorta whimpering and I started to feel bad so I stomped on the retard until he stopped moving and I helped Ted up. Ted stopped crying and introduced himself as Theodore. Aw hell I’ll just call you Ted I said and I slapped him on the back so hard accidentally that he went head first into the dorm window in front of us and cracked the glass, knocking himself out cold. I knew this guy was something special, but I didn’t have time to buttfuck him as I was late for a luncheon at the Holiday Inn later that morning, so I left him snoring there next to the retard, both submerged in a gathering puddle of my ejaculate potion.
Years later, I was working as a janitor in a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Ann Arbor, Michigan when I stopped off for a breakfast cap at Fraser’s because the tender poured tall and let me pass out in the shitter. About noon, this disheveled looking fucktard comes stumbling in with his pants halfway around his ankles and his lower lip down to the floor. No one paid much attention. He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. There was something familiar about this asshole that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He smelled like dog fecal and looked like a fucked up version of Shia LaBeouf with an upside down face. About the time I was ready to pull out my horned wand of hades to rub until terrifying climax was when the game started. The University of Washington vs Michigan Rose Bowl, and it was then that I remembered the fag. OH YEAH WOOL SWEATER WOOL SWEATER I hollered like a madman.
This is January 2nd, 1977.
HEY TED I screamed at him, bits of turd and molding chicken flying from my pursed lips. He spun at me on his stool, more alarmed than the gutless kike I’d raped with a lit pipe bomb the weekend prior. SHHHHH he hissed at me. I was taken aback. THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM? That’s when he made this look of recognition. He seemed petrified. YES, IT’S ME I said, LORD OF THE FLIES and I shoved a bunch of COCKtail napkins into a festering bullet hole in my shoulder to stop the greenish pus oozing out that I'd been trying to ignore for the past month. A cop had shot me when I'd been interrupted during consensual anal with a small dingus humanimal I met at a bus stop in St. Paul. Well Ted, the poor bastard just fainted and fell to the floor like a bag of rocks. I picked him up by the arms and carried him off to the sanctity of the restrooms, the bartender calling after me HE OK? Yeah I said just gotta throw some water on the face. Well I lugged him into the restroom and pulled out my chafing tools and went to work real hard and long stuffing his hamhock with my mayonnaise gland until I burst like a pent up flood and fell asleep for about an hour.
When I came to, Ted was curled into a ball and crying . YOU FUCKTARD I shouted. I know I was a little harsh but forget about it. I stood and began an endless monologue about Steve Bilko dying in police custody and somehow managed to segue beautifully into how mammoth my kong pole is. Ted tried to shield his eyes from my quivering totem, but I made sure he watched as I pontificated wildly about these things so dear to my heart. Ted howled at me DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM AND WHAT I HAVE DONE but I just back handed him and told him again and again to WAIT A MINUTE, THIS IS THE BEST PART ASSHOLE. After about three hours of this, Ted finally fell asleep. When I emerged from the sweaty, stinking toilet, it was dusk. The bar was still hopping, but the game was over. I called for an order of babyback ribs and blatantly sharted on the floor in front of a group of men. They all grunted in disgust and retreated from their table. One of them said with a serious grumble, "Oh Jesus." Not long after this unnecessary moment, Ted came stumbling from the toilet. He looked even more flustered than before. I stood and clapped him on the back, again a bit too hard, and he went flying head first into the jukebox and broke the fucking glass fascia. The whole bar erupted in laughter and I screamed LET'S PUT SOME CHUMBAWUMBA ON YOU FAGS! The laughter died down pretty quick after I said that and turned into hushed whispers of confusion. Ted was sitting on the floor, leaning against the jukebox nursing a large gash on his forehead. LETS GET SOME DINNER I yelled into his ear with booming tenacity and he winced.
ROY YOUR RIBS ARE UP called the bartender. I pulled Ted to his feet and wrestled with him until he submitted to my loving arms. Please he said Please I need to get out of here. I kneed him in the nuts and he hissed from his lips in agony, his eyes plastered shut. YOU QUIET DOWN NOW PRETTY BOY YOU LOOK LIKE YOU COULD USE A SOLID MEAL AT A REAL RESTAURANT. I then force fed him the ribs, bone and all until he was literally yacking on the bar. The bar tender had to throw us both out.
Well once we got outside, I lit a cigarette and poor Ted had fallen into the bushes and was puking his guts out. OH MY GOD he kept saying over and over again. I started peeing on his back and he was swatting at me from over his shoulder, sort of swiping at the yellow stream and he just kept saying OH MY GOD. There was steam coming off his back from where my pee was hitting him. I turned to puke myself and after I was done, went to grab Ted again because I wanted to take him back to KFC where we could take turns frying his testicles, but alas, the sweet shit had disappeared into the night. I was so depressed. TED I screamed for hours on end. TED into the Ann Arbor night. A cabby pulled up and said Hey man you ok? I told him to fuck off and broke out his teeth with a forty bottle I found in my boot.
That was the last I ever saw of the sweet man in person. A few months later I was crying into a burn pile of human remains somewhere in eastern Odessa (don't ask) when I saw on my lil shitbox van tv that they'd captured Ted for tax evasion or rape or something I don't know I wasn't really listening. But I found out that they killed the poor guy in the eighties and all because he was such a loving person. Go figure, am I right? I didn't mention this earlier, but you know what really pissed me off though? Ted stole my wallet at some point that night back in 1977. I had over $873 dollars in that wallet. It was calfskin.
When I came to, Ted was curled into a ball and crying . YOU FUCKTARD I shouted. I know I was a little harsh but forget about it. I stood and began an endless monologue about Steve Bilko dying in police custody and somehow managed to segue beautifully into how mammoth my kong pole is. Ted tried to shield his eyes from my quivering totem, but I made sure he watched as I pontificated wildly about these things so dear to my heart. Ted howled at me DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM AND WHAT I HAVE DONE but I just back handed him and told him again and again to WAIT A MINUTE, THIS IS THE BEST PART ASSHOLE. After about three hours of this, Ted finally fell asleep. When I emerged from the sweaty, stinking toilet, it was dusk. The bar was still hopping, but the game was over. I called for an order of babyback ribs and blatantly sharted on the floor in front of a group of men. They all grunted in disgust and retreated from their table. One of them said with a serious grumble, "Oh Jesus." Not long after this unnecessary moment, Ted came stumbling from the toilet. He looked even more flustered than before. I stood and clapped him on the back, again a bit too hard, and he went flying head first into the jukebox and broke the fucking glass fascia. The whole bar erupted in laughter and I screamed LET'S PUT SOME CHUMBAWUMBA ON YOU FAGS! The laughter died down pretty quick after I said that and turned into hushed whispers of confusion. Ted was sitting on the floor, leaning against the jukebox nursing a large gash on his forehead. LETS GET SOME DINNER I yelled into his ear with booming tenacity and he winced.
ROY YOUR RIBS ARE UP called the bartender. I pulled Ted to his feet and wrestled with him until he submitted to my loving arms. Please he said Please I need to get out of here. I kneed him in the nuts and he hissed from his lips in agony, his eyes plastered shut. YOU QUIET DOWN NOW PRETTY BOY YOU LOOK LIKE YOU COULD USE A SOLID MEAL AT A REAL RESTAURANT. I then force fed him the ribs, bone and all until he was literally yacking on the bar. The bar tender had to throw us both out.
Well once we got outside, I lit a cigarette and poor Ted had fallen into the bushes and was puking his guts out. OH MY GOD he kept saying over and over again. I started peeing on his back and he was swatting at me from over his shoulder, sort of swiping at the yellow stream and he just kept saying OH MY GOD. There was steam coming off his back from where my pee was hitting him. I turned to puke myself and after I was done, went to grab Ted again because I wanted to take him back to KFC where we could take turns frying his testicles, but alas, the sweet shit had disappeared into the night. I was so depressed. TED I screamed for hours on end. TED into the Ann Arbor night. A cabby pulled up and said Hey man you ok? I told him to fuck off and broke out his teeth with a forty bottle I found in my boot.
That was the last I ever saw of the sweet man in person. A few months later I was crying into a burn pile of human remains somewhere in eastern Odessa (don't ask) when I saw on my lil shitbox van tv that they'd captured Ted for tax evasion or rape or something I don't know I wasn't really listening. But I found out that they killed the poor guy in the eighties and all because he was such a loving person. Go figure, am I right? I didn't mention this earlier, but you know what really pissed me off though? Ted stole my wallet at some point that night back in 1977. I had over $873 dollars in that wallet. It was calfskin.