DO YOU EVEN OCCUPY, BRO?
The beginning of 2016 could be branded onto my ass as possibly the worst fucking intro to any year I've ever experienced in my tenure as demon clown cocksucking horse rat motherfuck. Think rabies of the genitals only some midget goober ball boy with a face like Sean Austin is continually rubbing fart steam on your teeth and a small Keebler elf has burrowed his way into your asshole and you can only hear "Cold as Ice" by Foreigner over and over again until you want to blow your brains out during Chicago rush hour. yEAH, that's what it was like for me. Suck my vein goblin.
So I ain't never see the bowels of the Pacific Northwest (not true) and I'm bebopping and fartin' around south SanFrancisco when I run into this dingbat of a shitface who's headed north to Oregon. I immediately pounce on his small face and spread my cheeks over his nose and let loose the wettest, creamiest fart I've ever produced and it's so foul the poor bastard passes out. I sat there with his prostrate body for several hours, attempting to invoke Satan, but he's in Cabo and not answering his celly so I decide to loot shitface's Wu-Tang jeans where I find car keys then spend the next three days beeping on the stupid key fob trying to find shit face's ride until finally I hear this little beep beep and I see this god damned Prius lodged up against an embankment near the St. Frances with several angrily handwritten notes about how "this is not a parking (sic) space, asshole!" So I stock up the dinky shitmobile with nighttrain, cocaine, fecal powder, dead horse meat and I speed north to make my dream a reality.
After a shitsmear of travel including one real fucked up incident where I'd accidentally murdered a transient and done things with his skin, I finally made my way to this hellhole toilet named Burns. Burns was the type of place I'd choose to evacuate my bowels into if my butthole were a thunderhead and my name was Karen "Zeus" Ramm. Anyway, I come stumbling into town, knee deep into my 45th Schlitz 40oz (Prius is long gone, sitting upside down somewhere 500ft off 101 on a secluded beach head) and I'm hollering my brains out about Jesus and the apostles when I notice this Ford Faggot150 with Nevada plates swerving all over the road trying to scare this little minivan. I thought to myself that this was some sweet action and I needed to get my wiener hard. So I started gently tugging on the duke with my peen ween claws and the bastard ballooned like a bat out of hell and I was so surprised that I puked my Hardees fish sandwich all over the flesh barrel and this F150 slows to a stop and the occupants are staring at me with their jaws on the ground. I scream at them, "I CAN DO ALL THINGS THROUGH CHRIST THAT STRENGTHENS ME!!!" and I belch rancid again and the driver gags and a dude in the rear slaps him hard on the shoulder over and over again and he's shouting, "Dude GO GO GO!" and I'm burping the mule like a crazed lunatic and stumbling toward them moaning like a zombie when they peel out and leave me in the cloud of burning rubber mist.
Fuck me I stank.
So after spraying messy cumshot on a small Asian family who in turn screamed and scampered away like rats, I dug a hole and took a dirt nap for about 24 hours. When I woke, there were two police officers standing over me. "Sir, are you ok?" said the old one. "Dad?" I said. The other cop (who looked like he was fourteen and trying so hard to hold in puke) glanced at the old cop and furrowed his brow. Before the old cop could respond, however, I bounded with fury from my hole and disappeared into Burns. I barely made out "STOP OR I'LL SHOOT!" but I didn't have time to waste on those two bozos. I had serious work to do.
This is January 2016.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" It was like nails in my skull. "HEY MOTHERFUCKER, WHO ARE YOU?!" Ugh shut the fuck up! Fuck me I was hammered. I couldn't roll out of my shit heap. "HE'S DRUNK, HELP ME PULL THIS ASSHOLE OFF THE FENCE!" This burly bitch started toying at my crotch so I spun violently from my fetal curd hangover of death and with blood red eyes hissed at him, "I AM BECOME DEATH, THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS!!!" and I leapt six feet in the air, my dingle dongle death triangle flopping in the high desert wind like rotting fruit and the beast of a man poking at me shrieked like a little girl and covered his eyes as I landed squarely with my taint on the bridge of his nose. There were other men with him and they started screaming too. I heard the sounds of at least two rifles lock, but I just smiled, a couple of my teeth fell out into the snow as I slid gently from the man's face leaving a snail slime of shit and semen. Someone, I couldn't see who, vomited violently.
I couldn't see a whole lot as I had beer goggles, but I realized I was inside the perimeter of some sort of militia gathering. As my peepers came to I could just barely make out a sign, which read Welcome to Malheur National Wildlife Refuge Headquarters 6 Miles. I uncapped a mason jar a quarter full of seal vomit and chugged it like water. That same person barfed again and I exclaimed to the flabbergasted and mortified crew, "SHALOM BROTHERS!" and outspread my arms like a crazed man of the cloth emerging from the jungle unto a native village. This one dingus in a cowboy hat approached me cautiously. I remained frozen in that position, arms outspread still, a deranged grin on my face and moved only my eyes as he got closer. "Uh, my name is Ammon. This here is Ryan, Brian and Blaine. We are here to disrupt the work of employees at the Malheur Refuge." The three other men were armed. I began to weep softly and asked if someone had farted then immediately asked, without taking a breath, if anyone had any beef jerky. They all stood there, dumbfounded. Then I changed my tune and blurted out, "The federal government lacks the constitutional authority to exclusively own and manage public lands in United States!" Well it was as if a bomb had gone off. They all cheered and hollered and one of them even said "Bless you, good sir!" and they hoisted me up on their shoulders and began chanting, "KING MAN KING MAN!"
This gang of retards carried me for six fuckin' miles up to the doors of that fucking refuge headquarters and there are news trucks and cops and all sorts of bullshit all along the way. There are also a bunch of these armed assholes and they all start chanting, "KING MAN KING MAN!" and I have to take a dump so I start screaming, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" but they don't put me down they just keep chanting. So the waterslide of death starts leaking real terrifying banana scented dogshit and this gentleman below me shrieks and I get dropped on my fucking head and I have this dog toy in my crotch and it squeaks when I hit the ground. Some dumbass starts laughing, which makes me cry, but I am only feigning and when he squints to see if I am actually crying I shoe him so hard in the walnut pouch that he flies through the fucking window and breaks the 2-inch glass and everyone gasps.
So I decide to hang out with these dildos for a few months and things are going well. My favorite part of the trip is hiding in the walls and taking massive corn shits in the hallways. The stench is unbelievable and a few times Ammon is driven to tears, pleading with me to "Use the toilets or go outside." I just laugh and belch into his throat. His fucked up retard brother looks like Chunk from the Goonies and I enjoy fucking with him the most. One night I drugged him with heavy dose of methohexital, which I think he might've had a slight allergy to because he puffed up about three sizes and was gasping for air so I just commenced a barrage of blows unto his face and he was just wheezing all puffed up like a blowfish all red and blue in the face and tears were streaming down his fucked up face like rivers and I just laughed and blew my load into his butt.
It wasn't all fun.
The day we lost the sweet, sweet, sweet, nude and sweaty LaVoy I was so drunk that I was climbing the tower up and down nonstop and just firing off random shots into the air and screaming verses from the Bible. The media got a real kick out of this, but when I heard that LaVoy had been raped, I really got sad because he was my only friend. He used to sneak into my toilet at night and read child stories to me and eventually I told him if he came into my hovel and read one more god damn story to me that I was going to cut off his head and vomit down the neck hole and then fuck it. He didn't seem to hear me so I set that motherfucker up. Sometimes I can go invisible because I am a demon after all and so I told the FBI where they could find these idiots and when they attempted to pull them over I went invi and forced the truck onto the shoulder, dragged LaVoy's dumbass out into the snow and he was squirming and these two spooks come out and they're yelling at him to drop his weapon and he's screaming that he can't so I grab his arms so he's reaching until I hear the dual blast of a scatter gun and as he lays dying I whisper the last few lines of Alice in Wonderland to him:
Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood; and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago; and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.
And he just lay there wide-eyed as the Feds came up on him and he died. What a fucking tard. ANyway after that and a bunch of other things, I considered my job in Oregon done. It was hard, but I was able to pull off a whole hell of a lot of shit with those backward rednecks and even had sex with a few of them. They might call it rape but I don't give a fuck about that. I made my way east where I found a small apartment in Lake Havasu City and began selling animal porn. Got arrested not long after. Escaped. Got arrested again. Fuck 2016. wHO NEEDs a drink?
A Beer with Ted.
 |
| 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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)