Alejandro

The Assassination of King George I of Greece

aLEJANDRO. That's what I called him. What I called him. Me me me I i I. CORSHNED. He was a real pathetic rat fuck. I mean the several weeks we had him in custody, he'd probably puked and sharted himself at least fifty+ times. IT had gotten to the point where I remember pleading with him, "Are you kidding me?" only to realize I myself had sharted. 

God damned gyro juice from the cunt on the beach. This asshole slept in his shop, that's why I call him a cunt. Never wore a shirt neither. Smelled like mothballs and farm animals. 

ANYway, we're going to town on aLEJANDRO, beating him something awful with pipes I'd wrested from my shit rat apartment on Corfu. I preferred the tongue tearer, which was pretty brutal. It was like an oversized pair of scissors, perfect for SCHRIPPING out that nasty lil muscle girls just seem to hate. My tongue always looks like an odd mutant, like a slug and a bit of dog turd mixed together and then salted and then blown up with a fucking hand grenade. 

Unfortunately, I'd left my tongue tearer in the toilet where I'd dropped it during a fuck binge with Irish, Downs teens the weekend prior. The Greeks loved the real fucked up shit, like locking an unlucky sonofabitch in a dark room, tied up in a wooden barrel and neck deep in water. Then they'd overfeed them and douse their faces with honey and milk. After a few days, the poor bastard would be swimming in their own shit, maggots and flies literally eating them alive. I loved these sessions though, cuz I'd creep in there and read from Clifford the Big Red Dog. Nude, flatulent, horny. In whispers, I'd get real elaborate with my gesticulations and I could hear the victim struggling in waste, crying. Then I'd blow my poisoned load all over their face and the flies would go apeshit. That intense "bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz" noise filling the room. I'd drop a deuce into their barrel and sneak back out not long after.

So WHAT. aLEJANDRO had murdered the king. Guess I should have said this earlier. George I was a fucktard anyway, but his policies were reasonable. His son was a gargantuan turd, which I suppose poisoned my eyes. I plundered and pilfered heavily during the First Balkan, while Georgie was jerking the longpole in Denmark. But when he rode victorious into Thessaloniki, those patchy DONG STARGS, the Venizelos, and his period stained crown prince of a cocksucking son, I had to drop the routine. That's how I got this job. The Hellenic Gendarmerie. Bunch of assholes, really. They gave no shit about anyone and were basically militarized. So when the Balkan shitfest sputtered out, they were recruiting. It was a shit job, but all I had to do was suck the pecker sucker's bean lodge and go through this three day course and I was inspector titrot fuckface by the end of the week. TGIF you bozos.

This is the evening of May 6th, 1913.

It was a Thursday when aLEJANDRO dropped George with a single bullet through the heart. He was drunk, but so was I. I remember I was drooling over these two small kids on the beach. Those god damned igneous beach rocks that looked like Powder's testicles. I'd been on lle almost the entire weekend and was out for some DOLMAS and franks. The children were crying, as I'd produced my shriveled pecker and was slurping pickle juice from a used condom. This breathless mush brain almost tackled me some point thereafter, trying with all his might to tell me about the assassination. I remember thinking, "Finally, a fucking job." He looking confused when I vomited on his elvin high heels, though this mattered not, for I was already on my way to the god damned palace.  

The Gendies were already going hard on aLEJANDRO. He was nude from the waist down. I charged in so hard I spilled my coffee all over the attendant douche bag mother fucker. I wasn't too sore about this, however, because you see I'd ganked an apple martini from this Italian psycho faggot that lived in my building, and dumped it in my morning coffee. It tasted like apple dog shit. Well after the coffee incident, I righted myself, apologized and began my interrogation. The others, who lovingly referred to me as "the specialist", were gawking and stupid. I threatened them with my peenwang and they backed off. aLEJANDRO just sat there, bound to a chair and shivering. I started out smooth by asking where he was from. We talked, albeit idly, about his time in New York City. He talked about his take on politics. We talked a lot about that. He seemed stuck on that shit. How governments were bad and all this shit. Jesus, after a while I noticed I was salivating and had leaked a little in the shorts, so I barged into the conversation with an alarming, "I AM THE ANGEL, APOLLYON, AND YOU KNOW WHAT I EAT? SOCIALISTS, YOU DREAMY EYED COCKSUCKER!!"

This was, needless to say, somewhat startling for Mr. Alexandros Schinas, the retarded anarchist from

Volos. Here I was, butting into our pleasantries with this incredible statement of origin, meaning and power. The Gendies at my back retreated swiftly into the hall, their shuffling the only sound now. With a nod, the lights went out and aLEJANDRO began to cry. I undressed slowly, taking care not to brush him too harshly with my baleen man fur. In the darkness there, our mutual quivering was the closest thing to love that I'd come to in a thousand centuries. You see, I loved aLEJANDRO. He was the new light, the new order. But I had a job to do. "Now, it's all over," I whispered, as I collected the light from the room and pushed it into his chest. Shortly thereafter, he began to scream. I lifted his naked body over my head, him screaming the whole time, and chucked him out the window of our little three story office building. He fell to the cobbled streets of Thessaloniki and ultimately, to his death. I remember leaning out the shards of window to see peasants staring at the body and back up at me. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT YOU LITTLE PILES OF PINK SHIT?" I hollered. They went scurrying. 

I quit the Gendarmerie not long after that night, having murdered my light for a king I never knew. In the coming months, my lifestyle changed dramatically. I turned to the drink. By the end of the year, I found myself coming to in a Paris motel room; Henry Miller, naked on the floor before my throbbing wand of shit.

Hell, we just got here.

The Spring Offensive

The spring offensive or Kaserschlact, was a real fucking toilet plug for the krauts. These shorthanded hairy fuddle fucks decided that a series of attacks along the Western Front was a good idea. Lol I had this real terrible thing going on in my diarrhea manufacturing plant and all the workers had gone home with the flu if you catch my drift. Of course you don’t, you’re probably a one-eyed fucktard named Paul living somewhere in the San Fernando Valley.

ANYway, these idiots are running around like retards and it’s just pissing me off cuz I got stuck on this god damn train a week earlier when this French soldier boy of the la Division 167e. I’d been ram-housing this bent little tard until one morning over a quiet espresso - that tasted like dog cum - and a pair of stale croissants, he coerces me into going off to war with him. At one point during this shit breakfast, he burped quietly. I don't know why, but it pissed me off. Like a lunatic I bounded on the small table we shared and sprayed doody fish water from my thriving man-horn all over his fucking face. He puked and it smelled like summer sausage and cat food, so I puked. Unfortunately, before I could really process what I'd agreed to, I ended up murdering him in a jealous rage with a pair of greenish-stained pantyhose after discovering a used condom in his mouth. I later realized it was my used condom and I was embarrassed that things went so south so fast in our relationship.

So here we are, me with his body tied to a fuckin’ leash nude as the day he was sharted into this world, and me half naked from the waist down and wearing his battle fatigues up top. Well these douchey Frenchies are all marching along and this rubbery asshole grabs me and with the most annoying fucking voice I think I may have ever heard tells me some shit in French. Well of course I’d been drinking. I had me probably eighteen bottles of cheap French vino in the last four hours. There used to be this shop run by a mungaloid dipshit who lived with his cousin or whatever in the stank apartment above us. They’d sell me wine at whatever price I said because I’d raped them a number of times. The cousin was a pretzel-shaped paraplegic and the mungaloid would get all hissy when I’d shove my parking cone into his muddy-huh-uh watering hole. And I’d hiss really fucked up things into his ear, like lines from Clueless.

This is June 15, 1918.

So this barf muncher grabs me and I drop the leash with poor French soldier boy on the end of this just lying in the gutter and I wish him farewell by blowing a snotrocket at his bare ass sticking in the air like a pile of gelatinous horse SEMEN after one of my burlesque shows in Minsk. I’m drunk. I mean I am pretty fucking lit. I am dragging this fucking rifle, Meunier A6 I believe it was. The thing was a beast. I remember I kept firing it off and screaming “what’s up there, flapjacks?” and all these garlic stinking Frenchmen would turn and stare at me and I queef and reveal my smoldering golf balls. One dude barfed and when the dude behind him got a whiff he burped then barfed tOo. It sounded like two ducks quacking.

We end up on this fucking train all packed in like boobs and I start freaking out because I don’t have any liquor. I realized I have about a gram of raw sweet chewy shoved into my cowabunghole so I wrest that out, spraying a bit of blood on the boots of the darsh next to me (I flipped him off and took the cigarette out of his mouth then put it out on the tip of my penis and said “scellé pour de bon” "sealed for good" and winked at him.) I then proceeded to smoke the crack and blow the shit in his face until he passed out with a pffffffrt. I got so high I was doing Lenny Bruce stand up for the next hour before I passed out in the shit bucket. Well we were near the Marne River when they opened the doors and started this fucked up whistling. I only knew it was the Marne because I used to dump French prostitutes nearby.

This big prick keeps pulling me by the sleeve causing me to miss my little pop shots I keep taking at the asses of men up front. He keeps yelling something inaudible so I finally whirl around and bust him right in the no no nuggets. He belches something awful and his eyes go as wide as saucers. He drops his rifle and his mouth opens up huge. I bayonet him and leave him in the mud. Then I turned to keep following these idiots cuz I like takin’ pop shots at their asses. Before I know it, there’s a full on war going on around me. I find myself wandering around with shells going off right and left. For a brief period of time (it may have been hours) I found myself huffing mustard gas near this pile of rotting corpses I’d been ejaculating profusely and had a bullet wound in my shoulder. I was so fucking high still from the crack that I was jumping up and down waving my arms like a bird and singing with a terrible, cracking voice, “WE ARE THE WORLD, WE ARE THE CHILDREN” whilst shitting myself and blowing snotty loads like a hose from hell.

All these idiots are running up this god damn hill, Bellau Wood Hill 142. That's what I read off a paper I found on the body of a corporal I murdered with my big toe. Yes you dingus, you read that right. “This is fucking retarded,” I blurted as I prepared to gargle piss from a horse hooved puddle. Of course I lapped some before filling up my canteen. Well as the battle raged around me, I did an about face and headed back toward Paris. I still had no pants on and my frank and beans were kinda flopping around like a diseased cucumber over a pair of rotting roma tomatoes. The lines of troops marching the other way all shrieked like little girls and I just farted that green gas I have and kept walking. Somewhere close to town I ditched my rifle when it’d jammed as I fired on children in the villages I passed. 

Two days later I awoke up in some brothel with this ginormous Guido motherfucker standing over me, his hand out. I have half of the dead body of a French prostitute glued to my pecker and my shoulder has gangrene. I literally woke up screaming, "VIVA LA FRANCE!" 

I fucking hate France. 

Salem, Ore.

The Salem Witch Trials

I began my vacation late in the year, hopping fare to the Commonwealth. I immediately commenced a hanus barrage of pentobarbital huffing. God bless the Commonwealth. Making my way through Boston, I ransacked several vacant homes for silken knickers, mine having been soiled beyond recognition due to an overwhelming bout of anus-clout contracted from several mutant three year old children in Newark. Drunken and injured from a brawl I’d initiated near a brothel (having refused to pay for a one-eyed harlot who spermed greenish egg whites into my knapsack), I crawled into a rotting wagon, hitched in a nearby alley. I slipped into slumber lain over festering horse apples, the lingering stench of filth and incredulous putridness lulling me to dreams (pretty sure that god damned cart was used to scrape sewage from the tattered cobble paths snaking the backend of Boston.) When I woke the next day, the wagon was tipped, the horse tied to an apple tree outside farmland, which seemed to go on forever. I was submerged in horse turd and vomit (I can only assume my own.) A dinky sign read the population of some crapburg. “SALEM” it said. There was no driver to be had, only a hastily scribbled note pinned to my lapel:

Thou'st come hither a village in rapture. You shall find nothin’ but testy gast, any who enter here!

I read the note several times; my eyes squinted in devilish annoyance. “This chicken scratch was either written by a possessed rat dick or a fuckin’ retard” I drooled. I noticed then I was still perched in human scum, so I pulled myself up by a twisted horse conch and stood. The smell was unbelievable. I reared back and belched a gummy explosion of hayseed and stomach acid all over the horse’s ass. The animal started and whinnied, then galloped away, pulling the tipped cart at an uncanny speed through the fields behind. I sighed and farted. The fart smelled like pickled swine hoof. I gagged, then headed toward a group of structures in the distance.

The assholes were about as welcoming as me finding a half-naked balloon boy-man crawling out of my refrigerator at 3 in the morning whispering “GIMME DE CHIMMY GIMME DE CHIMMY!” Some retard stumbled from a barn and pointed at me in terror, shouting something about the devil. I shoed him in the blow-up bags and shoved him by the forehead. He fell over backward like bunch of shit and impaled his ass cheeks on the pitchfork in his hand. “Fucker!” I hissed at him. I wandered around for what seemed like eternity, looking for a god damned public house to no avail. Eventually I copped a squat in some fuckin’ courtyard and took a boom smear right there in the dying flowers. By now, small parties of people had begun to follow me and were aghast when I dropped trou and exposed my warty, wrinkled hob-knobbler. A man screamed and a woman fainted before two or three of these shitheads pushed forward and pulled me from my steaming blubber dump. “UNHAND ME, YOU CRAP FUCKS OR I’LL BURN THIS FUCKING VILLAGE TO THE GROUND!” That same man screamed again and I squinted then wondered if it was a man at all.

Well, along the main street they dragged me, my pants around my ankles and warm plops of dung spilling from my still leaking goiter-cave. A number of the idiots were trotting along behind, some were crying. I squeezed a rancid butt spray and that same guy screamed again. “Who the fuck is that that keeps screaming like a little bitch?” I said to the bastards dragging me along. Neither of them even looked at me. “BRING HIM BEFORE THE MAGISTRATE!” some dink yelped. “HE IS NOT OF THE PURITAN WAY!” belched another. “HANG HIM!” called a third. “Now just wait a fuckin’ minute!” I shouted. “You assholes think you’re gonna get close enough to my neck to put a rope around it? You better think again!! When you fuck with me, you’re fuckin’ with tha best!” “CLOSE YOUR LIPS, HEATHEN!” finally said one of my transgressors. I broke free an arm and howled “CRY HAVOC AND LET SLIP THE NUTS OF WAR, YOU GUMMY FUCKTARDS!” and I swung with the might of an elephant, my fist connecting with his baby testicle gum drops. He shrieked in wild pain and his dumbass cockle hat flew from his head and into my piles. I was able to gnaw at the flesh log of the other boob before I was tackled there in the mud. Cries of “IT’S THE DEVIL INCARNATE!” filled the air. Someone was bashing me in the head repeatedly with what felt like Wilt Chamberlain’s dick. “You pathetic penis shredding bastards…” I managed to mumble before losing consciousness.

Well the fuckers tossed me into some sort of wooden duck-fuckin’ shed with bars on the windows. I woke up twisted into the shape of a pretzel. My pantaloons were still around my ankles and I’d turd queefed a substantial amount of fecal curd over the floor. I hiccupped like a drunken sailor and then barfed almost before the hiccup finished. Someone shuffled in the other room. I pulled myself up using the bars and kinda wobbled there before puking, again, through the bars and onto the dusty floor outside. I heard someone move around again, and then I heard assorted gagging noises and whispering. “Ugh, god damnit,” I belched, then crawled to the corner of my cell and began making these disgusting whimpering noises like I was a three year old being sexually rubbed by an overweight pedophile named “Lemur.” The shuffling from the other room started again, so I got louder and threw in these gyrations, bashing my corn-cob against the log wall. I also added a few curse words and farts to sweeten the deal. Finally, the shuffling turned into marching and this big fucker rounds the corner, a real nasty look on his face. He comes up to the barred door and said “Speak not, you demon! For God will judgeth thee!” and he rapped on the cell with a little toy hammer. I spun violently and grasped his balls with a furious fist. He screamed and I realized it was the same dumbass who kept screaming earlier. “You are not of this world, devil!” he shouted through tears, kinda buckling like a broken tree. I wrenched him in close by his sac and whispered: “Maybe so. But if I am the Devil’s child I will live from the Devil.” I paused here to belch putrid long and hard into his ear. He screamed that woman’s scream again and pleaded with me to let him go. “I can know no law sacred but that of my nature.” Then I produced my QUIVERING member and jammed it through his cloak. He squealed like a child and passed out. I fumbled through his pants for keys to ensure my escape from that shit box, but before I could locate any, some other asshole began bashing me in the head again and I was knocked out.

I awoke in agonizing pain. I had a bulbous lump on my head that felt like a dead frog was growing inside of my skull. My nose was bloodied and the motherfuckers left my pants around my ankles. I felt for my pus-junk only to find that I was wearing shackles and some sort of shit robe. I heard murmuring all around me. “Where the fuck am I?” I said, not able to see much. Someone behind me swatted at my nuts with a ballet slipper and I bent over, pains shooting through my vaginal works. “You will speak when you are called upon, demon,” came the voice at my back. “Ouch! You sack of shit!” I spun and spat a real stringy loogie in the manimal’s face and he winced and drew back. He turned again and looked at me with these wide eyes. “Why did you do that?! EW!!” and he ran off crying. Just then some tall, skinny motherfucker comes floating in and he’s all “IS this the CONdemmed?” “Condom?” I said with a snarky accent. The old dude stared down at me and said something about being silent. I burped from my ass and spit a dried chunk of puke I pulled from under my lip. The one asshole screamed. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I said as I searched the room for him. My eyesight cleared a bit and I was able to see that there was a good fifty people in that little rat shed, which sort of looked like a courtroom. The tall bastard climbed up behind this podium and was flanked by four other tall bastards. The renobs were wearing these pubic hair wigs. “Oh, nice pubes,” I said and another dick behind me pushed me and told me to be quiet. The pubic-head spoke, loud and booming:

"This demon who hast entered our town and brought with him the vilest of ungodliness now coming in to be examined relating to his accusation of suspicion of sundry acts of witchcrafts the afflicter persons are now dreadfully afflicted by him as they doe say. I claim the proceedings of this initial examination of the dammed as in session this day of our Lord, the 19th of April, Sixteen hundred and ninety-two."

I stood there, teetering a little, and blew a snot rocket the size of a Plymouth then flipped the douche off. He squealed and jumped back a little and cried out “DON’T!!” I laughed and farted. That dickhead behind me screamed again. One of these other fuckmasters up front hollers out:

"Heathen, what doe you say you here stand charged with sundry acts of witchcraft by you done or committed upon the bodyes of many aye town folks."

I squinted. “What the fuck are you saying? You sound like a retard jammed into a toilet hole. Speak English, you flaming cocksucker.” I farted again, real wet. The building shook a little and I felt two of the dudes at my back move away. That stupid idiot screamed again. The men behind the podium thing looked around at one another in confusion. Then the pube-head spoke again:

“Doe you not see how they are tormented? You are acting witchcraft before us! Looke upon this man and see if this be the demon that you have seen hurting you.” I heard a number of morons call out “Aye.” Those of you afflicted and others doe now charge him face to his face with hurting of them.” Pube-head pointed straight at me then said, “What doe you say now you see they charge you to your face?” I still didn’t understand a god damn word so I said (mockingly) “DRR MY NAME A BOOBY I LIKE PLAY WITH MY PEEPEE YOU ARE FOOD MAN I CUM ON OWN BOOBYS DRRRR!!” and I made motions like I was fucked up and palsied. The pube-head furrowed his brow. “Goode heathen! What contract have you made with the devil?! Doe you not see how they are tormented you are acting witchcraft before us what doe you say to this why have you not an heart to confess the truth?! Have you not given consent that some evil spirit should doe this in your likeness?!” I’d stopped listening a while ago. I was fishing around my shorts for pubic lice and when I’d find a real fat fucker down there I’d turn and flick it at the screaming idiot. Every time I’d hit him he’d scream again and I’d just laugh.

Well after what seemed like a year of this crap they finally dragged me from the courtroom having stated something about a signing a death warrant or some horseshit. I remember all these assholes were lined up outside the shit shed and I was SCREAMING and hollering like a banshee on meth. At one point I got loose of my restrainers and grabbed this particularly mortified looking motherfucker and belched into his gaping hole. He gurgled like a drowning mouse and fainted dead away. I heard the idiot scream again and I laughed, but resolved to murder him so he’d finally shut the fuck up. They dragged me through the streets and to the god damn jail cell where I’d spent the previous night. I was thrown in head first like a lump of shit.

The second I hit the back wall and right before the jail door swung shut, I bounded back like a rubber ball and blew through the door with my blood-filled howitzer gagger. The idiot screamer was there and (you can guess what he did) I bashed him in the head with my great bazooka of god. He had this dumbass look on his face. His mouth was wide open like a train tunnel and his eyes were like little moons. Every time I’d beat him about the noggin’ with my flesh pipe his face wouldn’t change, it would just bounce back to the same position, over and over again. I was grunting real hard and yelling “I’M GONNA PUT THE POWER OF GOD IN YOUR ASS!! I’M GONNA PUT THE POWER OF GOD IN YOUR ASS!!!” After I drowned him with my ejaculate, I found the other dickwad cowering in the corner, clutching a bible and muttering some shit about satan. I crawled over to him, my peen dragging on the floor like a dead eel. He shut is eyes tight and covered his ears. I found a quill on a desk, inked the nib, then drew a cock on the guy’s forehead. He cried. I beat him to death with my bare hands whilst singing hymnals.

When I emerged from the stinking shit cabin, a plume of steam followed me. It was late. A gnarly cloud cover blanketed the small town. I pulled a lantern from the wall of the jail and lit it with my fiery asshole. I spun and chucked the fucking thing into the open doorway and it crashed against the wall, erupting into flame. I skittered off into the night as the structure burned to the ground and villagers surrounded the flames.

A short while later, I’d made my way to a diphole town in the Ozarks. I had frostbite on my rubber play coil and some dickweed thought it would be funny to brand a pentagram on my ass while I slept in the shitter. SO SAYS THE WORD OF GOD OUR FATHER.