jap shit

The Atomic Bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

I’d met this jack ass at a bar, “Chuck” I’m pretty sure his name was Chuck. I only remember that because I kept saying “Chuck sucked my dick lastnight! Chuck sucked my dick last night!” and it was really pissing him off. Hewas all red about the face and kept screaming at me to stop or he would “tellon me.” I, of course, did not stop and proceeded to give him a massive wedgie, at which point he scurried off in blubbering tears in the direction of thehead. “God what a baby” I mumbled at the other fucks at the bar and downed my sixteenth long island before stumbling after him. I found him unconscious in the shitter and rubbed him back to health, only to summarily beat him to death with his own shoe. I couldn’t have a pussy like that embarrassing me in front of others, I mean, he did suck my dick. Anyway, after I beat him into pulp, Istripped him and donned his shit rags – whooo Jesus they smelled of dog shit!Well, he was some sort of flyboy. I just loved those flyboys. I used to make ‘emtake their wings off so I could douse them in salad dressing and shove ‘em intheir cowabungholes. Christ. So I scramble home, you know, so as to avoid any run-inwith the authorities, because god damnit they are bastards. Last run-in I hadwas with an ass-load of MPs and they beat me about the rim for hours until I confessed that I was the one who’d taken a massive ass-blast from God all over the nose of a P-51 parked near the dick circus. Well I went back to my motel room, pissed on the bellhop when he offered to help me to my room and crawled into the bath tub for some much needed sleep (I’d been awake on meth for thelast three weeks.) I belched pubic and passed out with the shower on.

I awoke to a severe headache. I mean severe. I was screaming. SCREAMING. I bashed my head against the mirror until it shattered in a shower of sparkling dust and slammed an empty bottle of wild turkey on my head, breaking it into tiny shards. After about three hours of this behavior, I finally came out of it and rolled out of the tub into a puddle of shit andpiss. I laid there weeping for several minutes before crawling through thefront door and out into the day. Except it wasn’t day. Shit, it was still darkout. I’d only been asleep for a few hours. God damnit. Well I searched the pants I’d stolen from Chuck or Hugh the night before and I found his wallet along with an address. I figured I’d take a cab and see if there was anyone worth raping there. I hailed some dumb dick and he took me to this shithole army base. I waddled around for about an hour without any success. I found this guard and made dumbass faces at him until he eventually butted me with his rifle and told me to piss off. I was so fucking tired I just found the shit bunk this asshole lived in and passed out again. I let out a massive toot that sparked a chorus of complaints from the other retards in the room. I didn’t give a shit, I was so tired I could eat the asshole out of a dead horse child.

Well, morning finally hits and it hits hard. It couldn’t have been more than an hour I was out, I looked at the deadman’s watch: 2am. Holy Lord it was only 2am. Well there’s this pile of lukewarm dog shit rapping at me with a little squirt stick or something equally moronic, squealing at me to “GET UP!” Finally I managed a “alright motherfucker!” and fell from the bunk onto my face. Immediately, this punk is pulling me, I mean literally pulling me toward this runway, where this plane the size of my scrotum is idling. I can hear laughter. Anyway, I am shoved up into the cockpit of this douche bag contraption and I pass out again, right at the wheel. This is the morning of August 9th, 1945.

Before I have time to dream about my uncle’s tits, I wake up and we are flying over an ocean. I got a real issue with flying. I mean the last time I was in the air, I murdered the stewardess with my ponch because she didn’t give me an in-flight blowjob. Istarted freaking out as you can imagine. Banging on the instruments, shouting at the top of my lungs, spitting and yowling just like a diseased marmot. Well this dink of a shitmaster, Charles or Charlie or Fred or Freddie or Karen I can’t remember what the anus’s name was, he starts slapping me with a dead fish and is shouting at me to shut the hell up and not yell on the radio. Well that really pissed me off. But before I could roll the window down and throw his skinny ass out, I notice all this food on my lap. All this fucking cereal and well a bunch of horse shit. Freddie smiled at me and told me I was so hungover I was barfing a lot and they wanted to get something into my stomach for the remainder of the ride. I told him to go fuck himself and I started wolfing that shit down. I ate for at least an hour straight. Meantime, all these assholes on board are flicking me shit through the radio. I just scream “STOP STOP STOP SHUT SHUT SHUT YOUR YOUR YOUR DRRRR SHIT SHIT SHIT!!” over and over again until Freddie has to tell me to shut my mouth again. I just balled up in my lil shit seat and finished off my breakfast rat shit burrito.

After what seemed like years, I saw this landmass appear. Everyone on board starts cheering. I gotta piss like a horse. I ask Fred if he minds if I piss out the window and before he can respond I’m already on my knees spraying the glass and it’s getting everywhere. It feels like I’m in a god damn shower, but hey I kinda like it because it’s fucking cold up there in that steel box. Well finally FINALLY I’m done. Fredie is yanking on me saying “Charlie! Charlie, sit down we are starting our bomb run!” Charlie? So I sit down and I’m farting. I mean I’m fartin’ real hearty. Then I realize why the numb nutz is calling me Charlie. He’s so drunk he thinks I’m that Hugh dick shit from the night before! I mean I did steal his clothes, but I didn’t look anything like that rap sack. I sit down. All these little buzzing noises are going off. I have noidea what the fuck I’m doing. I have a real nasty anal belch and Freddie barfs. I look out the dripping-piss window and see little houses far below. “Where the fuck are we?” I spit before pooing a little in my greasy panties. “That there is Imperial Japan, ol’ boy!” says Fred and he slaps me on the back. This slap just sent me overboard. I mean I already had to take an elephant splat. But when Freddie slapped my back, it just pushed all the yogurt meal right down the tube into the valley of god. I slouched forward and could see Fred started to become concerned. Oh my god. It was like a cork in a crack in the Hoover damn at this point. "You low down fag" I said to my feet. I squeaked a little at the horrid, putrid ass burp about to unfold and felt warmth running down my legs. Fred curled his lips and squinched his nose at me before barfing again. “Jesus ALLLLMighty!” he said. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, MOTHERFUCKER! IF I DON'T SHIT, WE ALL DIE!" I grabbed the yolk and yanked hard into the clouds. "Come on you asshole! Pull this rig over, I gotta shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttt!" Fred or Charlie's eyes widened in horror and he spit out his bloody mary, the red sprayed all over the windshield like a bad period. "Let go, Chuck! Let gooooooo!" he was shouting. He pulled out this little dink baton that looked like a mouse penile and started pinging me in the wrist. "LET GO LET GO!! YOU'RE GONNA KILL US ALL!" Just then I has a real naaaaaaaasty rectum vomit and I start screaming “OOH SUUUUZAAANNNA! DON’T YOU CRY FOR ME!!!!!!” I’m singing, I mean I’m really belting it out. Meantime, Fred is crying at me that I’m pulling us off course. I just turned that fucker right into that thick shit and all the while I hear everyone screaming at me to stop "for the love of god!" After about ten minutes of this horsing around, the joke was up and my shit baby needed to come out. I let go of the yolk and bit Frank on the cheek and whispered "Would you fuck me? I'd fuck me. I'd fuck me so hard." To which he shivered and said "What??" I stared at him intently for a moment or two, earnestly enjoying our time together. He went for the radio, but I slapped his hand away and I lowered my gaze. When I was sure I had his attention, I began in a very creepy voice: "It could of all been different Mr. Walker. You should have let nature take its course...but in the end, it will anyway....." Then I jumped at him with my claws out, you know, real scary like and I scream: "SO LEMME IN THE FUCKIN' HOUSE!!" It was hilarious, Fred jumped out of his seat, the plane dipped as his knees yanked at the wheel. "Oh LORDY help us!" he was crying. I starting laughing and told him it was just a quote from the movie "Fear" with Mark Wahlburg, but he didn't understand. He was squirming around like a god damned bug and it was pissing me off, so I jolted from my seat because the waterfall was coming.

I really couldn’t pay attention to anything else from this point on. I mean I was really riding the lightening. I had my cheeks pinched together so hard my face was turning blue. This prick, William or Jake or Jacob or something, kept saying some shit to me about verifying the bomb run or something I dunno I told him through tears to suck my dick. AAAAAAAAAAH I can’t take it anymore. I throw Fred’s stroking talons from my wank pole and dart for the shitter. I run through all these assholes, they’re everywhere. "Where's the fuckin' shitter?" I shouted to deaf ears. "Where is the fuckin' shitter??" I slowly realize this ain’t no commercial airliner and I am fucking PISSED because that means, there is no diarrhea cup. I started jumping up and down and yelling and oh my god it was terrible. Just then, the ground below me began to open up and I am pulled out of the way by some frog dick just in time. I hear “BOMB’S AWAY BOMB’S AWAY”over the radio and I can’t take it any longer. “That’s the same god damn thing I yell at home!” I shrieked and I bent the knees and stuck my bare ass out over the opening.

KABOOOOOOOOOM it felt like someone shoved an iron fist into my anus, grabbed my stomach and yanked with heavenly force. The shit splattered everyone. I mean everyone. Men were keeling over all around me. “HOLY SHIT!” I shouted. Well I could kinda see through my legs there, the shit I'm blowing out is tumbling head over heel and just beyond the thousands of heavy turds, I see the bomb. That thing was the size of a shit truck. I finished my squirt parade and pull up the pants just about the time the bomb bay doors are closing behind me. There’s this poor cock sniff crying at me that I “Pooed on” him and I pushed him so hard that he fell over a control panel or something and knocked himself out - he looked like he was made of rubber and he had this stupid little smile on his face. I had the room in the bowels so I squeezed out one little rolo morsel right on his forehead and smeared it around with my pinky to make a little brown sun. The other dudes there looked mortified so I brandished a small pistol and told them to laugh, so they did. I made my way back up to the cockpit and told Fred that I needed to have a beer “STAT.” He ignores me so I reach into my pants and pull until everything goes white. Although I made my way upto the cockpit fairly quick after all my bullshit, that bomb hit faster than I thought. We were tossed and turned like a match in the toilet and all the while I am screaming at the top of my lungs like a little girl, swearing I will disclose the location of “those unfortunate three I left for dead in Louisiana!”After what seemed like ages, the rumbling and hissing noises ceased long enough for me to burp horse manure and pass out on an instrument panel.

I woke up in a military prison three days later, my hands tied to a pole and I’m as naked as a retard on Sabbath. This stinky penis opens the cell and tells me it’s time to perform a “miracle.” After six hours of sucking him off between vomits, I finally muster the courage to bash him in the loins with my oversized forehead. I then strangle him to death with his own nono hairs. I scramble out of the open cell and into a courtyard where, using my uncanny skills as part giraffe man, I scale the walls and disappear into the jungle where I live for sometime only wearing a togo I've fashioned out of human ass hair. I changed my name to OKi Koki from the Cyndi Lauper and all I do all day long is rub my belly and dance around like a fucking dong-dicked retard. People throw change at me in the towns, and I store my anal liquids and spray it at them from an ol' squirt gun I've fashioned out of bamboo. Two weeks later, I’m stateside with the worst case of dick radiation I’ve ever seen. I’ve gone bionic and have sworn I will never murder a pilot and steal his clothes never ever again.

shitter's full

Space Shuttle Challenger Disaster

I landed this job, right? So, I land this job - real choice piece of shit job. Mission control specialist or sts ascent flight coordinator or assmaster extraordinaire or some other asinine job title. I mean it's the type of work that made me sick. No joke, I actually got sick from the work. I used to take a smoke break twelve or forty times a day just so I could evacuate my bowels in the parking lot. It was near a Wendy's though. Fuck it. So anyway, I forged my resume real hard to get into this shit hole. Why I did so and spent so much time dandy-dicking my shit papers, god and his golden ram rod only know. Whatever. Anyway, that day was a god damned doozy. I showed up late - I always showed up late - and as soon as I stumble in, my bastard of a boss is all over my case. "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN HERE DAYS AGO?!" I flipped him off using my corn cob of glory and basically fell face first into my station, spilling SEVERAL cups of month old coffee all over my keyboard and playboys. He stood there for a minute gawking at me as I removed my pants and scratched real hard at the nastiness spreading over my sexual battlefield. I looked at him and told him he might want [this] but he'd have to change his name to Tom Skerritt and grow a weiner. I'm positive my boss scuttled away in tears. I swatted at his jibbling buttocks, but missed and knocked over a sniveling air force captain instead. He fell on his fat ass and immediately pooped: "HEEEEEEEEEEEEY! THAT WEAALLY HOIRT MY BUM BUM!" "Aw you little bitch," and I burped up old McDonald's, spitting bits of greenish egg onto his service blouse. He wiped it away with a violent jerk and crawled away drooling and farting like a mentally disabled rat. Jesus. So I kinda laid there for an hour or so. Just splayed out with my clam out. I remember I had a big gulp the size of my brother's ham horn. So there was a launch that day. Oh god yes. Haha the firework toilet bowl show from hell. That's what I call it. I'd already been drinking. I mean I was a good case of steel reserve deep. I remember puking in the parking lot after leaving my Toyota EFI idling and lodged up against the snack hut where Sandy, the blind bitch from Tulsa sat slinging slop on Saturdays for relatively inexpensive. Good food, but made my bum run like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. I love that movie more than I love my pet locust, Eric.

What, it must've been 10am ish. So my job was to link comm with this fuckin guy onboard this cardboard toon wagon we were about to light a candle underneath and shoot into god's uterus. he's barking at me to come back you know to get me on the radio stereo system and it's annoying me because I have a headache so I shout at him through the mic to shut the fuck up and I pull out my flask and dump the whole thing (warm Jagermeister) into my diet mountain dew. I was so hot. Jesus god I was so fucking hot. The only reason I was so hot was that the cocaine was finally catching up. The fact that it was probably below freezing outside didn't help my scrotum from being overly swollen. My fingers were slimy with grease from my melting ass and my snotty boner faucet. I mean I was feverish. Well after ripping a thirty-five minute anal trumpet blow and snorting a few lines of heroin, I eventually got onto my headset and belched like an Irish foghorn. This cream corn yells back at me, I think his name was Dick or Prick or Flick?? Dude I can't remember everything so don't fucking ask me to because honestly what the hell am I even telling this shit for.

Well anyway, he's shouting shit and I have to tell him to calm the hell down or else I'm going to switch on Bruce Hornsby into the headset and take the rest of the day off. Anyway he finally calms down and tells me it's Roger Boisjoly of Thiokol. "Yeah so what the fuck do you want?" I says. Well he immediately goes into this rant, something about toilet bowl rings or the urinals or his ass is too icy or something I dunno I wasn't really paying attention because The Price is Right is on my little monitor and I fucking loved that show. Bob has such sweet man pecker suckers. Ultimately, the fuck on the phone recommends an "immediate postponement for launch." I got real quiet. I've been coming to work for this fucking red rocket fuck off for weeks now and nothing, zilch nada. AND NOW THIS ASSHOLE WANTS TO POSTPONE AGAIN?!?!?! They have stopped us from setting off this firecracker about a million times already and I am fucking sick of it at this point. I licked the receiver for effect, and tell him "I am appalled. I am appalled by your recommendation. My God, Thiokol, when do you want me to launch - next April?!" I disconnected. This is bullshit I thought. No, fuck dat shit. I was going to send this rat wagon into the stars if I had to sever my boob wrench to do so. I fell out of my chair and onto the floor. I laid there for a good twenty minutes weeping softly and mumbling lines from Dallas to the horror of my coworkers. Then slowly, I began humping the floor and giggling like a mad child. Well when a woman began crying somewhere in the office I stood up and said "I was just fucking with you guys, jesus christ!" and stumbled toward the door. Before leaving, I threw open the cupboard on the wall and found the infrared camera and headed out to the launch tower. The air hits me like a stripper's slime shaft on the morning I went to take a temperature reading on the O rings of Challenger. This is January 28th, 1986.

I was drunk. I mean I was fucked up. The second I stepped out of the office building I fell on my fucking face. I was technically supposed to relay this task to Kennedy's Ice Team, but I really was over it at that point and just wanted to see this fucker fly. So I get to the tower and there's ice everywhere. I mean there was ice up the anus, blocking ice turds from ice cube tray dinner. I mean it was like a fucking Bob Service poem. I cracked a bud and downed it, tossing the empty can on the tarmac with a clinkity clink. Well I snapped a few photos and radioed the ice team to go back to sleep. I knew I was going to get shit from Rockwell engineers, but I really didn't care anymore. I flubbed the temp readings on purpose by pointing the device at erroneous items like a used YELLOW turd that I'd blatantly stepped on then picked up and smeared all over my shirt to thwart this asshole from Rockwell from hitting on me. After about 15 minutes of herming the stroke sausage, I radioed mission control and gave my OK for launch. I knew if those toilet rings fucked, the show was over. I mean they were obviously as hard as my dick at Disneyland. I scrawled a little message on SRB, "EAT MY CUM-STAINED SHORTS" in black marker before shoving some old sandwiches I hasss in my pants into an open panel and then nailing it shut like I'm hanging a fuckin' picture. Time set for launch was 11:38 am.

Back at my toilet, I began my checklist. Yeah this and go that and go fuckyourself here and suck my horse wand there. I was rubbing myself real raw while staring at this kid technician. He looked extremely uncomfortable. So I hurriedly scribbled a sex note on the back of a blank check I stole from my boss's wife after masturbating on her. I was supposed to be watching the SSME computer screen, but instead I was drawing pictures of my hemorrhaging anus on that blank check. I'm starting my count down and I keep interjecting "that's what she said" into the mic after each call. T minus 10 (that's what she said) etc. Well my boss shouts at me through tears to "knock it off!!" So I finish like an ass mass and the bird lights up and farts into the sky. I was fairly relieved at first because I figured the bone rub would burst like a pent up shitter right there on the launch pad. Once the crap king got airborne, I sort of lost interest. I only glanced at one readout seeing the shuttle was passing Mach 1, that must've been oh about T+ about 35 seconds. I gave my thumbs up for go at throttle up noticing the SSME's were at %104 set by the computer before barfing all over my control panel, rendering my instruments useless. Right about the time I was wiping up old Carl's Jr. with my Journey tie was when I creamed my jeans. I hear this gasp like the sperm worm exiting a rhino and when I looked at the sky outside, I saw a plume of white shit.
                                   
A burst of static came through on my end and I just started crying like a little girl. I mean I was really balling and hamming it up. I kept banging my head on the table and saying "NO NO NO NO NO" and all this shit because I knew what had happened. Eventually this senior controller had to tell me to shut the hell up I mean I don't blame him, at that point I was standing on my desk twirling my dick around and shouting "GET ON THE HELICOPTER RIDE!" The vehicle breakup got me really really horny for some reason and I had to disappear from the control room for about a half an hour. When I came back, all hell had broken loose. I mean, I was surprised the piece of shit even made it off the launch pad. I was so drunk I figured no one would give a shit if I left early for the day. My supervisor screamed, I mean literally screamed at me that I had to stay. I looked at him and vomited, then slurred that they should install a stripper pole in the staff room. He stood there, flabbergasted. I pissed in the corner on my way out, found my shit wagon and headed home.

I never went back to the job, but that night, two beautiful FBI agents knocked on my trailer. I pretended I didn't speak English and shit myself. That sent them running. I moved to Venezuela the next day. Weeks later I got a letter that had been forwarded to me by NASA. It was my severance pay and pay it did. I installed a stripper pole in my front yard near the monkey swing.

Long Liz

Jack the Ripper

I hate London. I mean I really fucking hate it. It's dark, it's dirty and even though it's colder than a dead dick on ice, I swear to god I sweat like I'm livin' in the asshole of an African white rhino. Shit.

Anyway, the story I'm about to tell you bothers me more than others. I think it might be because I really enjoyed bombing her vaginal factory with my piss missiles. She was quite a woman. She knew when where and how to cram the ran cram van. Christ. The only thing that ever really bugged my cream-filled muffin-nugget, was that she was overpriced, and her breath smelled like the rotting anus of a deceased malaria victim (and hot hot garbage.) I'm almost positive she drank diarrhea or something equally rancid.

Anyway, I remember it like it was today. I'm hanging with this dickhead, Randy Hornmeer, reall pile of shit. I mean the guy was an absolute dong sniff. We were in White Chapel, you know, pussy footing about. I had been at the Drown' Trout for the last three days, having some pints and shitting myself, you know as I normally would at any given week. My pants were caked, I mean CAKED with feces. I had consumed enough ale for forty elephants and was in a constant state of urination-town. The keep, an old pal, was leaning over the bar for near the entire time, complaining about his leakage. The bastard just wouldn't shut up. "My leak'g been rly tkn theee tol' on me mate!" I mean the motherfucker was in my face with this shit for hours, over and over again, frequency, color, amounts - the fuck was really getting graphic on me. And this whole time, the whole fucking time he's drooling over me about his leakage, I'm looking for my comb, searching in vain for my comb you know I hadn't showered in weeks and my hair was as greasy as a Mexican crack. So you know I'm checking my pockets over and over again you know but I keep looking back up at the keep you know so as not to be rude and every now and then I add in a little "Uh huh" you know to make it seem that I'm listening. He's just telling me again and again how bad his ass reeks and how it drives away his children in horror and how his beloved rat dog won't sit on his lap and this and that and SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Well I couldn't take it, I cut him off with a waive and said I had to get some air. I had to get away from him but you know I really wanted that sweet cooze. I went into the loo and pulled Randy from the shitter, the dunce was actually submerged in the toilet up to his shoulders in what looked to be the most painful ass squirt frosting bowl filler I'd ever seen. So I wrest him from the muck and he looks like he's dunked his head in german chocolate. I couldn't handle it and I barfed up about six pints right on the poor loon. Actually, it did wash off some of the human gunk funk, which alleviated the hellishness somewhat. So there we are, two drunken fools looking for our overcoats at eleven forty five on a Sunday night in the nasty bowels of the asshole of England. This is September 30th, 1888.

     I fell out of the pub first and onto the slimy cobbles, Randy and his shit mask not far behind. The blubbering bonehead slipped on his own stool and fell right on top of me, cracking one of my ribs, I just know it. That pissed me off something awful and I rained blows upon him until he fell asleep in his own waste. I kinda shivered there in the dark, vomit all down my trousers and this bobby farts up to me, swinging this god damn sun of a lantern in my fucking face. I looked up at him from my bed of ass and spilled, "Dude, seriously, get that god forsaken light out of my face before I strip that robe from you and use it to wipe your sperm off of my chest in about fifteen minutes, you fucking tit-mouse!" "What'r ya doin' 'ere?" he says as if he didn't hear me. I ignored the pompous bimbo and tried to pick myself up using the railing along the pub wall. Then this prick has the nerve to touch me. I mean the fag actually TOUCHED ME. That threw me into the red. "Listen you COCKSUCK!! No one, and I MEAN NO ONE touches me unless it's ME DOING THE TOUCHING!!" So I grab the lantern and chucked it like fuckin' Tessa Sanderson. It flew, I swear, fifty, sixty feet out into the night, lighting up the walls of the alleys as it passed. I think that as it went by I spied some dark n' dainty cuss of a piece of shit sneaking around in the shadows...but I'll never know for sure. The lantern landed in a shower of sparks and flame, exploding on the cobblestones like a burning flower, pieces of glass and shit flying all about. The constable goes running after it, and I'm positive he's crying, "WHY'D YOU DO THAT?? OH PLEASE IT'S TOO DARK!!" Fucking pansy. Anyway, with the boob in blue scurrying away after his toy lamp, my mind runs back to the dick hole in the dark and I'm about to go seek him out for a real long lubed log rammin' fest when Randy grabs me by the knickers, pulling them down to my ankles exposing my real nasty tarantula. Just then, she walks by. I'll never forget her look. At the corner of Berner and some other fucking shit street, Long Liz stopped to stare at my one-eyed devil horn. She screamed in terror and I screamed back that she knew "WHAT TIME IT [IS]!" She went to run, arms flailing, and there I am like a cartoon shuffling along after her, my pants around my ankles and my arms out, vomit all over my shirt and shit in my seat. I loved Liz. She was the reason for the season. But something about my crank pole always terrified her. I think, in my heart, my pene ween killed her. I didn't slice her throat, but I drove her away. Well with my pants as they were and the state I was in, I couldn't keep up. I watched that red rose on her jacket disappear into the alley and all of Liz with it. Sure I searched for a bit, but couldn't catch her.

The next morning I woke up in a gutter. Don't worry, I mean I ended up in the toilet most nights. My pants were still down. There was no sight of Randy. I laid there and wept for a minute, because my ass hurt so bad. I felt a dried something on my forehead. I prayed it was human semen, but it wasn't - dried blood and my own at that. Ugh. What a night. I stumbled my way back to the pub, not bothering to pull up my britches. Little buggers playing with sticks in the alley laughed and pointed. I spat at them. Oh wait I gotta tell you this part! It was amazing. I spat at them right, but when I did it turned into this enormous spray of mucus and blood and....you guess it! GIZZ!! Haha I was so elated that I'd gotten lucky before I passed out that I jumped to click my heels, but in doing so forgot my pants were around my feet and fell on my pock-marked face right in a mountain of melting horse crap. Jesus. Well that's when I saw the tard selling papers. "GHASTLY MURDER IN THE EAST END" and my heart just sank, because I knew...I knew it was Liz. I crawled over to the boy and told him in gibberish that if he didn't give me the paper, I'd make sure his parents screamed at his decapitated head when I produced it from a McDonald's Happy Meal box while completely nude on Mother's Day. Well that didn't do the trick, so I just took one.
   
Liz.

Her throat had been cut from ear to motherloving ear. No more boom boom for that baby-san. Fuck me. I laid in the horse cream for hours, just bawling my brains out, rolling around like a bottle in the wind, rolling back and forth in that gelatinous hill of horse feces, caking myself even further and further and further and nastier and more putrid than ever and hell after a while it started to get fun and I began giggling and laughing and OH MY GOD I WAS HAVING SO MUCH FUN I FORGOT WHAT I WAS EVEN DOI