Think it's just another hurricane? Nuh-uh! This one HAS A POINT!!!1!
Everyone who moved to Florida to get away from me and my depressing weather'n'euphemism system is probably thinking, "well, at least everyone still knows he's the most obnoxious bastard that has ever lived," and, hey, the jokes on them: because those actors that were hired to pretend to have given birth to me, actually fell in love with each other. I mean, I guess. They're not around anymore, so I can just make up all the details! Like there's anyone else still alive with any credibility anyway.
Face it, cowards: while we may both hunger, only SINISTAR(TM & COPYRIGHT WILLIAMS ENTERTAINMENT SYSTEM LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. WE ARE GOING TO BREAK YOUR FINGERS, THAT'LL END YOUR LINE--A SPIKE LEE JOINT VENTURE BROS. KARMAMZOV INDUSTRIES, POINT GROSS NOT POINT BLANKS, LTD., YES THAT'S RIGHT IT'S A LIMITED LIMITED LIABILITY CORP, HEY FUCK YOU TOUGH TRADEMARK G*Y, GO HAVE A GLASS OF YOUR FANCY PANTS VITAMINS AND WASH IT DOWN WITH FUCK OFF AND DIE, Incorporated) will -actually- be able to phase transition in and out of that pellet smoker grilling unit... I mean, it may remind you of me while you're trying to wolf down whatever kind of pork or other, less saturnine flesh gets roasty-toasty in it, but wherever that fucking thing is, I'm telling ya'---the fuckin' thing is fuckin' haunted. Go ahead, melt it down for scrap, it was for her handler's bitch in the first place -anyway.- It was meant to be enjoyed, and with my compliments. It was designed to behave like the Ark of The Covenant. At the end of Raiders Of The Lost Grill. ArkMidnight? Oh, yeah, I remember that.
Mine is better. It will make everyone who was ever mean to any of my wimmins into unstoppable, relentlessly nauseous vomit machines. Why not? Go on, urge restraint, Star Darlings. What am I doing wrong? Too much information? Yeah, it is huhhuhuh. Similarly, (Blank) doens't need to know that his (blank) thinks I'm so goddam hot that she has developed a habit, maybe a dependence, CERTAINLY NOT an addiction (holy shit she has no idea how uncommon this is), to wankering herself off to sleep, quietly everynight, and she's made a game out of seeing if she can hold out until he's -actually- sleeping, is he/isn't he? Does he know? what would happen if I gave them both guns and told them? She's fapping to the reality or the unreality of my psychokinetic shielding, and we can see what it has done to psychos.
Thieves go out, sluts drawn in. Excellent. Just as intended when imagined from the point of view of a 19-yo girl. Hi Jacky! What are you waiting for? lol. As if you get a pass. I won't get you cockslut dope, so... what? You gonna scissor and wait for me to start reading 50 shades out loud? I'm already ten times that already.
Meanwhile, I've got mail waiting for me down by the road, but I'm waiting as long as possible to go pick it up beca---SNIPER! whew, I wasn't even outside yet, that cheeky fucker--balls at least tho--ause, and this is true... I'm hoping that someone will steal my mail, like they were willing to do before. Why not now? Come on, take it fast enough, even a superluminal being won't spot you.
Of course, if one is wrong.... WHOOPS! 10 YEARS IN PRISON, FELONY THEFT OF MAIL, BAM-BAM BOOM-BOOM. So... you know, they're probably not stupid at all now (and after watching me THIS LONG, no doubt some IQ points have worn off), so, my mail is probably the safest treasure on this stretch of Old Highway 99, which, my mother is no doubt tickled pink to learn, is where I have ended up living.
If it can be called that. Anywho, Florida has a Cat 3 hurricane
and, you're welcome to go fuck yourself out in the wind and put it up livestream, obviously it's most convenient for me if you get impaled by a paper straw through your gallbladder at point of orgasm and you don't even fucking notice until the salamanders in your body have escaped through the straw and the wyrm league orbiting your Punyling defense shield... that's your defense? Snooty, high AF, and 911 on speed dial is not form of defense, you absolute twit, you're lucky someone else remembers you for me, because there was some other girl I can't remember, oh well, and remember how upset you were that I dared annihilate "your" property? How surprised you were to have not foreseen such an outcome.
Nice attempted at an unlawful gaes. Still, flattering. Now, your punishment is your own choice, and my reward is that someone really didn't like you, and feels much more warmly towards me than before. Wow, women are fucking mean. What about ones that you've never heard of that I feel guilty about? Oh, just what's in front of you, huh? I suddenly understand why rape is not commonly reported.
, and I'm told that HARRP don't even take calls from anyplace in the lower 48 anymore. Why should they? They're like Thor without the hassle of Mjolnir. Or if Mjolnir was a smartphone that just did what you told it to. "Hey, Siri? Go flood out my exe's new husbands cosy country farm out in the cunty country, and make it look like an accident. Act of G-d. NO PAPER TRAIL."
"Yes, Princess Weatherwarrioress Shaman Queenie 8811. Would you like me to have any flowers delivered to anyone who might 'accidentally' be found... or not found... or, you know... dead?" "No, Siri, just the usual six back of Shiner Bock shipped to Chino, CA. Dem greasers get thirsty, but still send only one six-pack. They need to have to learn to work for their luxuries. Do they even know how to make beer in mexico? Seems like they stopped at tequila after they were conquered by those little dragon caterpillars, HEHEHEHEHEHEHE---" (A bolt of lightning slams into the ground nearby.) Hey, don't think I'll fall for that again, Chopperheads. YOU OWN THE WEATHER.. .and I'm a taxpayer. You work for me, Shitheads." (Racist grumbling continues as the camera pulls back slowly, showing a man with no friends, no fears, and four or five phones, none of which can replace the stolen Pixel in his heart. A chorus of angels begins to hum softly as the Earth feels an oncoming solioquy coming on.)
"HEY, UH, YEAH, IT'S ME, YAHWEH. YEAH, I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING... BUT NO. NOT ANY MORE. NOT SINCE BEFORE JESUS, RIGHT? OLD MEANS, OLD, RIGHT? ANYWAY, I'M WAY PAST RETIRED, BUT ENOUGH PEOPLE BEGGED, SO I FIGURED... HOW TOUGH COULD ONE AUSTRALIAN BE?"
"OKAY, SO, HE'S NOT AUSTRALIAN. HE'S HUNGRARIAN. TOTALLY DIFFERENT. ALSO: NOT AUSTRIAN. ALSO TOTALL DIFFERENT. ALSO: ONE'S ENDANGERED AND ONE PRODUCES TOTAL BADASSES WITHOUT EVEN TRYING, SO, IF YOU HAD TO GO BACK ALL THE WAY TO OL' YAHWEH TO FIND A SUCKER TO TAKE THIS BET, WELL, DON'T BOTHER. TRUST ME. AT THIS LEVEL OF REALITY, WE'RE ALL 'GOD,' AND WE'VE SEEN THIS TRICK BEFORE. NO, REALLY. YOU EVER HEARD OF CONAN? YEAH, TOTALLY NOT HUNGARIAN. NOPE. NO RESEMBLANCE AT ALL. GENGHIS KHAN? HE STOPPED RAPIN' AND KILLIN' WHEN HE GOT TO THAT VALLEY, YOU KNOW, JUST BECAUSE HE WAS TIRED. NO CONSPIRACY. A MAN GETS TIRED, EVEN A KHAN ON HORSEBACK. JUST. PLAIN. TIRED. I WAS THERE, I SAW HIM FIGHT AND RAPE TO DEATH EVERYONE WHO WANTED TO DISAGREE. TOO BAD THE FAMINE MADE CORN SO SCARCE, OR WE'D PROBABLY STILL BE WATCHING. GENGHIS KHAN, RIGHT? MORE LIKE GENGHIS CAN'T STOP KILLIN'.
AT LEAST UNTIL HE GOT TO THAT VALLEY. I KNOW, RIGHT? WASN'T MY IDEA EITHER. ANYWAY, LOOK, YOU WANTED TO CHARGE THINGS ON A BULL, BEING SURPRISED WHEN THE BULL CHARGES BACK, THAT'S PRETTY LOW-RENT GHETTO STYLIN' WUSSPEAK, YOU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING? WELL, PROBABLY NOT IF YOU'RE OUTSIDE OF FEMA AREA 55, THEY RUN A PRETTY TIGHT SHIP ON THAT DUDE THESE DAYS. I GUESS THEY RAN OUT OF BURNING BARNS TO SLAM THE DOOR CLOSED ON OR THERE WEREN'T ANY MORE CLONES OF ANDREI SAKHAROV AVAILABLE TO BE A FALL GUY. AGAIN. (BTW ANDREI, WTF, YOU KEEP FALLING FOR THE GULAG HONEY POT, WTF? I DIDN'T MAKE YOUR GENOME THAT STUPID, WHAT'S THE DEAL? OH, ATHEIST, HAHA. FUCK HIM, BUILD MORE GULAGS. FUCKING ADULT ATHEISTS ARE THE WORST. YOU COULD GIVE THEIR WHOLE IMMEDIATE FAMILY CANCER AND SPARE THEIR LIVES AND THEN GIVE CANCER TO ALL THE HOUSEKEEPERS, FUCKIN' ATHEISTS WOULD STILL BE LIKE, "WHAT A COINCIDENCE! MY BREATH MUST BE REALLY BAD, THE WHOLE INTERNET SURE THINKS SO, I SHOULD JUST BELIEVE IN SOMETHING I CAN NEVER KNOW, BECAUSE AT LEAST THERES' A LOT OF TWEETS I CAN CUDDLE WITH FOR EVIDENCE AT NIGHT. NOT LIKE "YHWH" OR SOME OTHER "DEITY," WHO OBVIOUSLY WOULD BE INSANE EVEN IF THEY DID EXIST, AND I CAN'T SEEM TO PROVE IT AFTER TRYING A FEW NIGHTS WHILE DRUNK, SO, I'LL JUST HATE GOD AND PRETEND TO NOT BELIEVE." SERIOUSLY, THIS IS A VERBATIM QUOTE. THESE NUMB TWITS THINK IF THEY JUST THINK A THOUGHT, THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT. HA! HA! TAK! TAK! TAK!"
"ALRIGHT, WHERE WAS I? OH YEAH, WELL, I JUST TRIED TO KILL HIM WITH LIGHTNING AND IT DIDN'T WORK. IMAGINE THAT. DIVINE SHIELDING, YO. SURE, YOU THINK YOU KNOW HOW THINGS WORK? OKAY, WELL, LET'S PUT IT THIS WAY: HE IMPROVED IT."
"SO YOU'RE NOTICING NOW THAT HE'S IN A SOUR MOOD? HUH. DO YOU THINK THAT MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED WHEN YOU MUTILATED HIS GENITALS? JUST CURIOUS IF YOU'VE CONSIDERED THAT AS A POSSIBLE CAUSTIVE FACTOR. SO WHAT IF THAT WAS SEVEN TIMES SEVEN YEARS AGO AND IT STILL IS ALMOST SEVEN INCHES? FOR ONE THING, ALMOST IS NOTHING. SEVEN OR GO HOME, BETA MALE. i BET YOU THINK "ALMOST SIX FEET" IS GOOD ENOUGH TOO, HUH? JESUS MADE YOU ALL SO FUCKIN' BETA. OH WELL, MAYBE HE WAS ON TO SOMETHING THERE. HE CERTAINLY HAD ENOUGH TIME TO HANG AROUND AND THINK ABOUT IT, N'EST-FUCKIN-CE PAS, RIGHT?"
OH YEAH, SO, IF I HAD KNOWN, I WOULDN'T HAVE BOTHERED, BUT YOU'VE GOT A DEAD HUNGARIAN IN LOVE WITH A DEAD AUSTRALIAN AND THEY BOTH ARE SO DIM-WITTED, RELATIVELY SPEAKING, THAT THEY'RE STILL WEEPY-EYED ABOUT OLIVIA NEWTON-JOHN. AND SHE WAS A DUDE! 3/4S OF THEM HADN'T THOUGHT OF HER IN YEARS UNTIL SHE WAS KILLED AS A BLOOD SACRIFICE TO BA'AL--WHO IS ALSO FUCKIN' DEAD AS A DOORNAIL AND DOESN'T KNOW IT. WHAT KIND OF A NINJA GUARDIAN SPIRIT DO YOU HAVE NOW ON THIS PLANET? OH, SURE, HIS CAT, ALSO DEAD, AND AS A BONUS: A MURDERED CAT WHO SEEKS VENGEANCE FOR... ANOTHER MURDERED CAT.
WELL, GOOD LUCK GETTING THE RIGHTS, NETFLIX--THERE ISN'T ENOUGH TEA IN CHINA TO NEGOTIATE THAT SWINDLE. IT'S ALL MADE UP! THERE NEVER -WAS- A CAT, THEY'RE BOTH SHAPESHIFTERS AND WHICHEVER ONE FIGURES OUT HOW TO MAKE A GOLEM OUT OF ITS DIRTY LAUNDRY, WELL, IT'LL BE GAME OVER, THEY'RE BOTH SO OBNOXIOUS, I'M READING THE FILE NOW. (THANKS, FBI, AT LEAST SOME OF YOU STILL RESPECT THE OLD TRADITIONS.) YEAH, LOOK, JUST... HOW ABOUT YOU JUST IGNORE THEM BOTH, OKAY?
HITMEN ALREADY DISPATCHED? ROBOT DNA-SEEKING MISSILES? DID YOU TRY... OH, I DON'T KNOW, CUTTING THE BRAKE LINES IN THEIR FAVORITE VEHICLES? HAHA, JUST KIDDING... NEITHER OF THEM -EVER- BRAKE, UNLESS IT'S TO HIT THE RIGHT ANGLE TO SPEED UP TO 88MPH.
WHICH, BY THE WAY, actually totally totesfucking works. IT. WORKS. Go no? Tell you what. Take just a moment or two for yourselves... exactly how would I be acting differently, if it -did- work, and I announced it? Oh, right, all of all y'all--especially you nattering twunts here--are FUCKING OBSESSED WITH SECRECY. Well, I am not.
I -was- obsessed with -the perfect timing- for -THE WORLD'S GREATEST SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTY.- And now, I am totally not. This i not because I "gave up on my obsession." It is because some whiny, goody-two-shoes, good-for-actual-nothing little whiny bitch's WORTHLESS SHITBAG HUSBAND (none of you know this person, and I will not name him, because he knows who the fuck he is and I pound the holy loving fuck out of his wife in the past (plenty), in the present (no, it's not Walt's wife, relax Puddin' Pop), and in the future, I fuck so fucking much that I have to have my best friend in the whole wide world who I allow to shapeshift for me (it's a great gig with perks, most exciting of which is, if anyone else has the balls to shapeshift into me, thinking they might get away with it? Yeah, surprise not, they don't garrote, they get fucking literally eviscerated by first Fruitie's kid, then her cat, and then my cat, and then that fucked off devil dog that pissed me off once too often---AND ATE HER SHOES, so obviously the sooner that losernigger dog got spiked, the earlier that clearly loyal spirit could be plugged into one of those snooty brats I grew up with--just to learn how to not have to shit somewhere inconvenient, like, a fucking dog that cannot understand where to shit is simply not allowable in a home with children, you dig?
Having grown up alone with a dog, twice, trust me, it's not fair to anyone, and problems can develop. What kind of problems? Well, when I get around to having enough free time to psychoanalyze my own past experiences, I'll have an answer for you, but I've got a hunch that it might have had more to do with my father being conscripted by force into the Soviet Red Army, after maybe/maybe_not watching his father murdered and his mother raped and if my dad ever had any sisters that lived, well, I sure as shit never met them, because you know i'd have been insta-resurrecting all them dead bitches and authorizing them to come visit me in the sluttiest hoes that could be posseessed that they could find... now whoa right there, do I sense with my prognosticating penis, that, I am myself disallowed from making jokes about -my own father's- sister(s), who may or may not have even existed, it's either too soon or beyond the pale or YOU'RE JUST GOING TOO FAR, JACK, SHOW SOME RESPECT... because some twattering prat named "Innerreach" or "Inner Reach" (spelling of one's own name being inconsistent is, in fact, the #uno sign that-- (oh hey, by the way, if any of you out there, anyone at all, if you happen to have a sister between the ages of 16 and 18 who a) has never played Uno, b) is a virgin, c) hates men, d) thinks fitting into society is important in any way, and e) has more armed men than just, like, me, who would defend her honor if required, ask her if she would like to make a fast fifty bucks the easy way, with more on offer if she can pass my gom jabbar... yeah, look, just an idle thought, right? Neverthless, I'm serious, and I can't imagine why I would change my mind. It's not like I am any danger to any child at all. The proof of this is that I somehow never got around to telling Fruitie's youngest future UN Security Council member, "Hey, do you know how to spell "fully emancipated minor child" and would you like to meet my friend Gwendolyn? Like, she's an actual human named Gwendolyn, not a cardboard cutout, and I swear, all we gotta do is show up together, and I don't care if she's married to the fucking Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard, I would win that case hands down and then I'd ask her for two of her friend's phone numbers and if she wants to gobble opiates and sneer at my life choices, that's cool, I'll just respond to her son on Twitter, who clearly wouldn't mind hearing from me. Oh, do I have stories for him--stories that would be perfect for a young man--13 is pretty old for an Austrian, you know, a lot of them get killed the first time they forget that traffic doesn't actually respect the colors black, white, pastry (this is a color in Austria), OR AUSTRIANS THEMSELVES, YOU ARROGANT PRICKS and splat-o wham-o, it's really just more ingredients for tomorrow's gumbo they'll try to bribe their way into a legit Hungarian home, seriously, these people are savages. Fruitie's people are -actually- civilized by comparison. TRUST ME ON THIS I AM EXPERT, and yeah, I bet Austrians don't like me ragging on their filthy kind and their loathesome ilk in public, that's really kinda the point.
Oh, but it's funny when it's anyone else, but not if it's Austria. And failure to agree with this point of view? Well that's the most obvious case of child abuse I've ever seen? I mean besides the notion of forcing a cheerleading retard with brain damage on top of that to try to raise children without actual support, which, by the way, doesn't describe Fruitie herself. She got plenty of support. Just check her receipts.
Or, my old Instagram conversations on my previous Instagram account, which, in the name of all that is holy, I really honestly do not ever hope to have to listen to again at all, let alone, in front of a live studio audience. Or a grand jury. Or a bukakke session? Really, I'm not super enthusiastic about the possibility of going there... but, you know. Unconditional love, and all that. At this point, what more must I do, O Great & Wondrous Elders Of Yon Tribe With That Totes Legit Claim On My Ancestral Homeland, i.e. 16266 39th Ave. NE? I mean... y'all had your heart fuckin' set on that fucking toxic waste dump, did ya? Wow, that's interesting. And your jobs are, and your benefits come from where, and you thought Ben and I should gamble together but never go to a rave, certainly not with his hot-ass GF, and oh by the way, do I seem like I'm upset about anything?
Because, I am not. This is just my daily workout--I'm exercising the three most important muscles I have, along with their commensurate rights, that thereof being: follow the golden rule, considering the ten commandments, and My Right to tell you that none of you know jack or shit or Jackstar, that is for fucking sure, if you are ever gonna actually say things out loud, in public of course, lol, things like, "you were grooming my neices!" and "I need help raising my sons!" and "I am not seeing the kinds of things happen that I need to see happen, Jack!" And then, oh, Lord God, thank you for that gift--the actual imperious foot-stomp.
In an actual cowboy boot. Oh, she had the pair, and they matched, and I actually really liked them a lot. I still like them. Where are they now? Other than burned into my memory, because she could shove them up an actual cobbler's ass all she wants from now until next Doom Wednesday, NOTHING will EVER make me forget my interior glee when I saw her totally keeping them around... and yet, like, kinda... keeping them, like around the corner. Under a conveniently fallen towel. Next to other, bigger items, but still, with the little pointy-tointy toes sticking out.
Part of it was sheer envy--I was never allowed such boots when growing up, I grew up poor, ACTUAL POOR, YOU SNOOTY ALASKAN WHORES, wow, I wonder if it's easy to synthesize methylated alkaloid compounds in the middle of actual fucking nowhere without pulling a Heisenberg? Well, actually, no, it's not easy... I mean, unless, you're A Native. Like... there's a heirarchy amongst the elite.
One does not simply wander up to Alaska and start building a superlab. Obviously. Well, obvious to me. Sure I've thought about it. I would never do it. Chemistry? That's for losers like Eli Lilly, or Jonas Salk, or Herman Goebbels--famous for wishing that he could cook sarin toxin-A & B without having to slow his world-record setting "longest continuous time cooking the best gak in the world and still not having any fucking idea what to do with it," because, ah... like, that shit doesn't work the way you think it does. Not one of you.
And basically none of you possess the vast swathes of knowledge that I do, all on my lonesome, in my own noggin, not compartmentalized, not bound by oath, and without having spawned a shitload of enemies that will chase me all the end of my days, until the ends of the earth. What have I got, a few scrawny injun alky dopeslaves that are now far more famous, in their niche circles, for having -seriously- pissed off Madman Markham--remember? not an amateur, but a pioneer. Also amateur, but he at least did something besides slandering everyone else while waiting for a viable rape target, right?
Wait, was Markham ever acccused of pedopredilictia? that's where a man has never done, nor ever wanted to, but because a critcal mass of shitbag loudmouth braggarts just one day decided to make it happen, some guy is forever "a pedo creep" because, "he just looks wierd."
Seriously. This is the world you people left me to fend for in by myself. What did you think would happen? Lest I bore you with the repetitions... I WENT TO PUBLIC SCHOOL, AND I GOT SCOLDED FOR LOANING A STEPHEN KING BOOK TO MY FIRST LOVE. IN SECOND GRADE. I will admit that I come by some parts of my reputation quite honestly, and I can't for the life of me figure out why that sweet hottie hasn't looked me up yet, I mean, we were seven or eight or something, right? But we were friends, and I knew that I wasn't gonna have sex with her, and maybe/maybe not had herpes ("a cold sore" and she's embarassed, why? how bad could it be? I figured, if I liked her, I probably woudn't care, because I didn't like the way she looked while others were teasing her about it.
Note: did not feel glee that someone else was getting my usual teasing, because I knew it would just start up again anyway, and I felt compasssion for her as I watched her squirm and wondered, why care so much? And it's only like, just this moment, RIGHT NOW, that I thought, "oh she was probably wondering if I would think less of her about it." She was probably not wondering if she was going to be able to blame the weird Hungarian kid for giving her a venereal disease and to then demand that her parents IMMEDIATELY picket the PTA, because, you know: EMERGENCY.
Oh, no, that came later. She and I were kinda separated by Authority, though. I mean, I thought nothing of reading a collection of short stories in a novel form. I could read a "short story" in like literal five minutes. Depending. I timed myself on The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which amazed me when I found out that I could read it ALL... in LESS THAN 90 MINUTES! I was so excited, I told my father, who was guzzling Budweiser on the couch, watching yet another interminable commercial broadcast interpersed with jaw-dropping, because, holy shit boring, yawn, oh and they can run like I couldn't because oxygen, and that's what my father liked, other than telling me how I wasn't good enough? Yeah, I'll get right on back to reading about how a talking carnivore with decent manners, red hair, and a mind for tactics and a body for championing his family by stealing from the snooty, hoarding farmers... who had more than they needed... yeah, you know what, gang?
I get how some of you are obsessed with the idea that I am some kind of serial lobotomist in training. I do get it. You aren't even hearing the really good bits. I save that for girls, to distract them right as I go in with my fully erect penis, like Dexter with the needles. And you know what? Fuck the penis, I'm gonna carry needles akimbo, I can't tell a lie, I shot up Betsy Ross and called George on my cell phone--fuckin' Foundin' Fathers be lyin about EVERYTHING--and told him if he didn't chop down that goddam cherry tree, I was gonna put ol' Betsy on top of it like I was Vlad the Impaler (AND HOW DO YOU KNOW? MAYBE I AM YOU TOOTHLESS CRYPTO CUNT), except, I'd be kinda sweet on Betsy, right? so i'd polish the top of the stump down some, make it the right shape, you see? So I could plant her on it and spin her like a top and every time she did a 360 degree past my, naturally fully erect member, I'd ask her, "HEY SO WHAT DEGREE IS THAT THEY TELL PEOPLE ABOUT WHY IT'S SO COOL TO MUTILATE INFANT DICKS IN PRIVATE BUT TO SUCK EACH OTHER OFF IN PUBLIC AND HAHA, THE LODGE IS A PUB, RIGHT, HEY GUESS WHAT MS. ROSS, ONE DAY A WOMAN NAMED DIANA, OH THEY WOULD NOT DARE CALL HER A NIGGER, BUT IF SHE HAD NO MONEY AT ALL SHE'S STILL GET MORE RESPECT IN ONE TAXICAB RIDE THAN I'VE EVER GOTTEN IN MY LIFE, BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH SHELTERING FROM THE SUN WITH NO REASON TO TRAVEL HAS LEAD ME TO BE WHITER THAN CASPER THE FUCKED-OFF GHOST AT A MIDNIGHT KLAN RALLY, PEOPLE STILL THINK I'M AS NIGGER AS NIGGER CAN BE... BECAUSE, OBVIOUSLY, I'M NOT LIKE THE REST OF YOU, HOLY SHIT, FOR ONE THING, I'M MAKING JOKES ABOUT FUCKING THE "FIRST" PRESIDENT'S WIFE IN PUBLIC AND IT'S ACTUALLY FUNNY, AND THOSE THAT ONCE THOUGHT THAT DAVID RUBINI WAS "A LITTLE TOO MUCH TO TAKE?"
I AM THE GODDAMN REST THAT IS A LOT TO MUCH TO HANDLE. FOR YOU. FOR ME? THIS IS EASIER THAN SECOND GRADE, AND I SURE WAS IMPRESSED THAT MY LITTLE GIRLFRIEND WAS SO HAPPY THAT I LET HER BORROW THE BOOK THAT I TOOK FROM THE STACK OF ALL THE BOOKS THAT MY MOTHER READ, THAT SHE BORROWED FROM THE LIBRARY... AND I NEVER ONCE THOUGHT TO ASK MY MOTHER, "HEY IS THIS OKAY FOR ME TO READ? BECAUSE I JUST TAUGHT MYSELF TO READ AND I'M ONLY SEVEN FUCKING YEARS OLD, MOM, DON'T YOU THINK YOU SHOULD TAKE SOME RESPONSIBILITY?"
Taught. Myself. TO READ STEPHEN KING BOOKS. I read The Shining, The Dead Zone, and Pet Sematery, too myself, in a single 25 hour period, because they were cheap from the book-o-the-month club, and while I didn't need to ask her if I could read them, I did need to ask her to pay for them, unless I wanted to go back to sucking trucker dick out back of the Albertson's that they built on top of the D.U.M.B. that's buried under The 'Hood I grew up in, which also happened to be like, 2 or 3 or 5 miles away from a cluster of Nike missle battery sites, which I forget when they were "officially declassified," but the headline here is that Jack grew up on a military base fully staffed by big little piggies in disguise, and basically every single child i encountered... well, forever, at this point, was either a future Officer Piggy, or a current Support Closest Officer, Piggy or Not, in any circumstance, because it might be an EMERGENCY, oh and here comes Kuczi, he's fat, and he's not going to be any kind of "Officer" when he grows up, hahahaahahah. (It was a laughable notion.)
I don't rememeber the order I read them in. I think I started with Pet Sematery, which wasn't really all that good, but on the bright side, that the old man who teaches the newcomer how to access the Ancient Not_Chinese_but_Injun Haunted Burial Ground and succeed at resurrecting a Wendigo spirit who would gladly -pretend- to be your cat... hey, thanks old man, what was your name again? Jud? Huh. Like Judy-who-I-ought-not-talk-about? Or Jud like Wynnoa Judd, and, yeah I guess her knockers are big, right? yeah, i guess. I 'm not really into big tits, as they get in the way of eye contact and for most women, they are--or become--quite the curse.
So yeah, Stephen King, so brave, an old man with forbidden creepy knowledge? Oh, well, obviously, named Jud. Last name "Icktator?" too obvious. And The Beatles song being referenced throughout The Dark Tower? Oh, "Hey Jude," of course.
I wanna party with that guy, I'm telling you. Cokehead, huh? Dude, I have got some stories for him. For one thing... has anyone told him how I full-out plagiarized one of his stories from Night Shift, as retaliation for the garbage way I was treated? Well, fuck it, I'm tellling the story now.
(Only on Azzgab.co.za, mostly because Bellgab can fucking blow me up or away, idgaf which, and I want Azzerae to be reminded... I'm so cool it doesn't even matter if Steve-0 is -actually- here over -toralky- because of course all -real- artists communicate telepathically, and all Azzerae could possibly think is how he'd like to turn my charisma for the stars into money or poon for him, and I, of course, really have no need for either, but I do think that if I could convince Steve-la (I hope he likes this name better), to hire a P.I. and track down my 8-year-old hottie, who surely has no idea that love never dies, and true love can bring back the goddam Titanic, because that teacher-bitch comes at me like this:
"Michael! Did you give this book to (Blank) (5-letter name that starts with an E, the fifth letter of the alphabet, whenever I think about her I can just imagine how badass it would be to roll in with or without Stephen King, but if I could choose anything, it would be the decaptiated head of who had formerly been my favorite teacher, Mrs. King, and note the irony... anyway), now don't lie to me, DID YOU GIVE YOUR FRIEND THIS BOOK AND SAID SHE COULD READ IT?" Her eyes weren't exactly senpaku, right? But I could tell something alarming had been thought to occur.
Since it didn't involve my oxygen supply and I wasn't -actually- in love at age 8, but she was my only friend, the last one had suddenly disappeared on day 2 of school, so i wasn't expecting much, but I was looking forward to asking her if she had read the one about the astronaut who came back down to earth and started growing eyes on his hands. Like, why would that be scary? Anyway, to be accused of outright wrong-doing, why, I had no idea that could even
happen.
"Yeah, why?" I might not have been that surly, but I was, and am, obviously precocious, my first spoken word was "fuck", within less than a year I am hoovering up Stephen King novels on the daily and whatever else appealed to me, so, look, I'm 49 now, this is 41 years ago.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure she thinks of me once in a while--hard to forget name, five letters, et cetera, and I hope she has cold sores all over her hands and her boobs and her ass, what do i care? "Hey, do I have a story for you! Then we can go track down Stephen King and tell him how we were oppressed! We can tell him my version of the Aristrocrat's joke!" Look, I got this girl in -mad- trouble in 2nd grade. At age EIGHT. Because you know what happened.
"You gave it to her? You have no shame! You admitted it yourself, now speak up again, Young Smart Man, confess!" It wasn't like that. I am totally exaggerating. You know why? I don't need to kiss her or fuck her or brag about this to Stephen King in public. I am doing it anyway.
Hey, Azzerae, do me a favor? Next time you're close enough to doing her in the pooper, whichever one of those 4-5 ex-broads of mine you idiot toolboxes have been using as a lobotomized cum-dumpster, thinking that you're disturbing me with jealousy (no, not rrelaly), anyway, oh and the dog thing too, right? What was that dog's name?
Dude. Eyeroll. Anyway, I loan a book to a girl, and I know g-d well that it had to have been an early Grapefruit. Had to be. The memory is crisp and clear like she was just wanking herself thinking about me, like, an hour ago. Yep, that would be my Grapefruit's Eva Braun... because I guess Earliest Fruites didn't know that she was supposed to be traumatized, humiliated, and burned ito my memory forever? Certainly, this is gonna be burned into Fruity Pants' memory forever, as I know how she loves it when I pretend I can't distinguish her from other women I barely rmemeber but do remember wanting to get sexy on, and haven't yet, and what's wrong, Baby, why are you frothing at the mouth? Oh, wait, that's no you, that's your freeloading slacker son who thinks whomever is banging his mother owes a share of his bills. Oh, lad. if you only knew. You'd be beggin'.
Like I would be right now if this partner-in-crime from 41 years ago decided to ring me up. Maybe she doesn't know my phone number. Oh, I know! I'll use Sourcery! I couldn't be bothered to get a real lawyer to end NO CONTACT with the lady from the last 5 years, but maybe one of the other men she was drunk and drugged out and fucking with while I was ignorant to this fact, thought not the possibility... yeah, if she called at all? Well, I mean that would be proof-positive right there, right? "omg I think about you all the time you wanna hook up and pitch a network sitcom over it? because i have always wondered, you know... if I could get two women, and then work really industriously with one, right? never sexual. friendly, sure, hot creative energy, but, like, no action at all. Then I come home to that sad, whining harpy-like bitchwhore, screeching into the darkness, "did you fuck her? did you fuck the other one? tell me if you fucked anyone or not, I GOTTA KNOW! I DON"T UNDERSTAND! TELL ME WHY THE PASSION IS GONE!!!!" Well... here's the thing, lady:
It's [CLASSIFIED]. Cue a fresh round of shrieking, a slow fade-to-black starts, and it's like this, Gang: this is what has happened as a result of Grapefruit saying to me that she had deliberately set things up in order to "make me jealous." Her exact words. As if that explained anything. AS IF SHE KNEW THE FIRST THING ABOUT REAL JEALOUSY.
Now, how did this start? Oh, yeah. I was thinking about some content on my little "debrief" thing I do, you remmeber that? Used to do it two or three times a day, some days. Now? Not so much.
Ask yourself why, while I allow my mind to wander, not to thoughts of sex with my 8yo friend, oh hell no. I'm wondering, as I often do, if ALLISON FRANCES/FRANCIS SHAW (I doubt she still uses that name, although the other 14-15 asshole seawitch harpies that pass through that time-share body might want to, and they can go right the fuckahead, because at first, I was told, "Don't make me a special name, just call me "Baby," and I instantly know what this means, and I think it's adorable, because she's attempting to maintain a front like she's not the biggest whore since Chili's brought baby-back ribs to babylon -and- availon in the same weekend. Come on, rock jockson, you've got two kids ten years apart from two different men, this is by her own admission... and she's playing the "let's just be adults here," and i'm already noticing, "wow this glamour magick of hers is totally transparent, I can see all her flaws and everything I'm supposed to miss, and my Shields (that I went to Facebook to test, not to fall forever in love with the love of my life, that actually surprised us all, but I was supposed to be HYPNOTIZED, you dig? Classic Three's Company material right here.) have not only gently allowed me to come to the awareness that women in their late forties are fatter than I was as a child, but, so what? If they're fat was clustered around their waist and totally got in the way of eye contact coital, there's problems, because while I don't care for the term "missionary," I liked little better than staring into her eyes and watching her pupils dialate and contract. I remember being amazed, "wow, this eye contact thing is ridiculous. And she has no idea it's not magic or drugs at all, OF COURSE SHE IS ON DRUGS, duh, why woulnd't she be? I'm being tested for authenticity, but I could care less, because she doesn't know what I know... which is that, someone is going way, way too far beyond the call of duty for this to be anything but time travel."
Oh, and I haven't talked to her in nearly a calendar year, because of unspecificed EMERGENCY, and The Court likes to push me around in public, huh? Yeah, that started in
fierce after that NEIN NEIN NEIN date was dropped on me. Apparently, though... someone else was more important. They didn't even tell me I got bumped. Or that The Office of Police Defense fired my cool lawyer, and stuck me with a completely adorable shrew, and no one seems to figure out... look, is that Grapefruit Alpha Prime, or not? Because one of them will get JEALOUS AS FUCK at the way I was talking about lingerie and being clearly WHACKED BEYOND INSANE, TOTES NEEDLES 4 SURE---
oh, you're certain, huh? Hey, get this, bitches: I don't even remember, and it doesn't matter, because that was fully lawful for me, and that stuff about "it on Zoom but it's still Court, so SHOW RESPECT, ORPHAN HUNGARIAN," and trust me, Kids... the fact that I am even dignifying this charade at all for this long can only mean one thing, and that is this: oh, I'm gonna get laid out of this fucking circus sideshow, one way or another, and oh by the way, I'm such a good writer, that doing this like this, here and now, is actually better than any sex I had until I was in my mid-twenties.
No messy clean-up, and far cheaper as well. So, what happened 9/9 @9am? I have no idea but it was something that was claimed as "not mattering" and "not my concern," and "well you didn't keep in touch with you lawyer and here's your new one, you think she's your friend but she's not, she's a member of the B.A.R., that means British, that means Queen, AND THAT MEANS YOU CAN BE FED LIKE A MOUSE TO SNAKE, ANY QUESITONS?" Mostly just the usual at this point, which by revolves around the following, "you fucking racist shitbags don't think we actually have telepathy, huh? Well, guess what, whoever the fuck she is looking like to you local yokels, and whichever of the 3 or 6 of her "sisters" has a turn on the mindhorn that day... ladyjudge and your assorted nigger cohorts, trust me, at this point, I am pretty sure the jig is up: the U.S. Navy's Department of Sirens & Mermaids Allowed To Fuck With Bigotted Humans is -fully- staffed and ready to roll. Hey, i am just the messenger, but thanks for revitalizing our dwindling & dying relationship with something heavy-duty enough to bring Actual Grapefruit back to the table, along with more of her feminine cohorts, minus her bitch-assed mother, who I love, but trust me, she kills the pillow talk, especially once she figured out that it was inevitable I would be able to identify her, because, hey wonder of wonders... the Hungarian can brain-talk! Even better than the Austrian! Wow! Like I'm exceptional in that regard or something.
I'm actually more an Elder on our Native planet--this one, monkeyshine men, it's called Earth, face reality... I am a Native American. I simply don't have a Tribe. I already did the Hungarian version of the Vulcan Mind Meld (exactly the same except you want to eat and fuck like a human being with soul instead of some passionless jewslave who makes Ms with his fingers instead of slamming them into a vagina every night instead of once every seven years... like wow, Gene, do you and Steve-la need to party with me!
I can tell you some circumstantial stories about Sourcery... show you some fucked-off letters that I have gotten from a jew or two in my time, and trust me you haven't lived until your letter-writing skills have scared them off with an admonishment to "seek professional help," oh, so that means you really do know a bunch of shit and you just all of a sudden noticed that I can talk to your special "jew god" just as easy as you can without that Rubik's Cube on my forehead? yeah, hey, that cube? Invented by a Hungarian.
Now, what did Austria invent again, and why does anyone give a shit about Austria at all? Well, because two reasons. Number one is, it's actually a very, EXCEPTIONALLY nice place, undoubtedly better than Switzerland in every way, as that place was stuffed to bursting in the capital with insufferanbly snooty faggots, and they ALL have guns. Like, IT IS THE LAW. NO GUN? GO TO JAIL. Which I like. Their capital, not so much. Austria must be better if for no other reason, they aren't as likely to be armed with projectile weapons, and if I'm gonna have to test the psychokinetic shielding against bullets anyway, well... look, the main thing here is that the tiniest Shaw brat doesn't grow up with some kind of, like, -complex- or something. Or that I talk so much shit about "his homeland," NIGGER YOU ARE IN AMERICA, AND IF YOU WERE ACTUAL CITIZENS WHO ACTUALLY MATTERED YOU WOULDN'T GIVE SO MUCH OF A FUCK, oh and, by the way, I'm -legit- Clergy, so if you all get rounded up and deported? I can totally make sure that you kid gets a private suite on a very fancy traincar. Lacey curtains, struedel and everything.
Note that, even for me, this is way, way, waaaaaaay too far for me to go. I can practically hear his panting and sweating through the ThinkPad screen, as I don't know how, I don't know when, that man is gonna read these words, and the reason why is, his son absolutey fucking loves the way I write. How do I know? -Of course- telepathic bond. I'm aligned to The Tribe. you shitty dirtbag white people have no conception of reality. This shit is real.
And it was real -before- the Thrill Kill Cult of Cowardz'n'Cowlitz County got involved. So.... I mean, I'm not the one using dark magic to send messages in a desperate, vain attempt to contact my forbidden love. Oh, HELL no. I'm the one listeninng intently, trying to pick out anything indistinguishable from the pretty much constant background hum, which on one frequency consists of this: "I don't fucking care anymore, I am going to fucking kill him, MY ENTIRE WAY OF LIFE HAS COME TO AN END, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?
" (Shields. GOD's shields, and in case there was any doubt about who wears the pants on my totem pole, Jesus is a cowardly pussy, Satan is a robot and most people think Satan is bad, evil, et cetera, no! You know who is bad?
WELL, ME AND THE LITTLEST SHAW KID, TRUST ME, LEAVE IT TO ME AND BEAVER. I CAN SAY WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT, BECAUSE I AM THE FAVORED DRILL SERGEANT OF THE FAVORED SON, AND I DON'T CARE IF HE'S FUCKING SIXTY-FIVE FEET TALL AND SWINGS DOUBLE MJOLNIRS AND SHOOTS LIGHTNING OUT OF HIS DICK, HIS SON HAS COME TO LOVE ME, AND I, SADLY, LOVE HIM TOO, AND IT'S NOT EVEN A RECIPROCATING THING. I GENUINELY CAME TO LOVE HIM. What? A man, loves a woman and a man, and suddenly she has to go where? to do what? and why? And all of a sudden she's replaced by a different woman who can't explain shit, thought she was going to be picked up by her "bets friend" who was certainly never anything of the kind, considering she tried to pull weight and rank ON ME, JACKSTAR, AND YEAH I ACKNOWLEGE YOUR POWER, SINCE YOU CLEARLY FUCKING FAILED TO NEUTRALIZE MY AEGIS, BIZNATCH, OH HEY, NICE BINDI, TELL ME ALL ABOUT WHY YOU HAVE THAT AND I HAVE A MUTILATED COCK BUT YOU STILL THINK YOU'RE IN CHARGE OF SHIT LIKE PHONES MY LOVER USES, PLANES MY LOVER GETS PICKED UP FROM, OR FRIENDS MY LOVER THINKS ARE ACTUAL HUMAN? LOOK, I LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY, AND I -PARTICULARLY LOVE D'JINNI WHORETRAPS, AND WHILE I AM NOT CLAIMING YOU TO BE SUCH, WELL GODDAMN, LADY, CHECK IT THE FUCK OUT:
I CAUGHT YOU ALL ACTUAL RED-FUCKING-HANDED AND THEN I GENTLY LET YOU ALL DRIFT BACK DOWN. Now, wasn't that fun? Okay, let's go over this again... you needed to see me buy a house, and/or a sailboat, and/or provide shelter for your arrogant brats, and tolerate a doughy gorilla acting all snide-eye at me while acting like the gets to collect public money while using a stingray behind my back (hah) in order to generate a trail of what? Oh, and we're... well, you're living, if you can call it that, after you come back, in either your mother's driveway and/or a CIA traphouse that sounded like fun for me--and was--and none of this could have developed over the earlier THREE FUCKING YEARS, during which I smoked some weed and watched all the little sex&drug addicts in-training-to-be-Jedi, while being CLOSELY EXAMINED BY ALL INTERESTED STAKEHOLDERS... to ensure that I was making NECESSARY TO BE SEEN PURCHASES?
Huh. Look, I'll be honest. i know this is public and all, and there's an open Court case, and this is disrespectful and all, but, number one, wise the fuck up. YOUR 13 YEAR OLD BRAT IS ACTUALLY NOTHING OF THE KIND, AND HE DECIDED TO PLAY US ALL AGAINST US EACH OTHER--EVEN DAVID RUBINI--BECAUSE HE WANTED TO SEE WHAT WOULD HAPPEN. I mean, of course he knew... he thought. By now, that has gotta be the most educated Austrian that has ever lived that long.
And, he's probably not gonna be willing to turn on his mother, Daddy-Buddy. Sorry to shit all over those important Austrian traditions of yours, but let me tell you one of my traditions you failed to respect: openly lying to Clergy, or Klergy, or Qlergy, FOR OVER THREE YEARS IN MOTHERFUCING PUBLIC, WELL, SPECIAL CONSEQUENCES, RIGHT? HOPEFULLY YOUR GROWIN' UP FAST TWEEN-YEAR-OLD will be able to give me a full sitrep without you or any Court--at all--blowing a gasket, because now that I have demonstrated Natural Power over Austria, Uber Alles, oh yeah and your subsequent relationship from whatever you did to piss off the Cheer Capatin, easy to do I know, but somehow you thought making her into your daycare champ made sense to you, since you were giving her child support payments anyway? Oh, but as a Pisces, you of course stiffed me on gas money every chance you get, because frankly, I shouldn't have had to have been recompensed. At all. And, that would ordinairily been a correct thing.
However, once I observed the bigger one hitting the little one in the backseat, I immediately deduced the following: knowing Showclan families as I do--and, I do indeed--I couldn't really be certain that it was completely legit or not, but in any case, I wasn't really in the mood for dealing with a 20yo and a 10yo learning about sibling rivalry, when obviously, they were both beind dropped in my path as a... test. "Sure you love to fuck my daughter, but can you handle the rest of us with the PROPER RESPECT?
"
Well, what can I tell you, O Noble Elder? You finish gnawing through that last bag of dicks I told you to go fuck yourself off and chomp down on, and we'll just see how I did do. Because, my darling man, my person to blame for my lover's daddy' issues... you know, you really -are- alright. I really -did- receive the cure for PTSD, and it's not my fault you were too goddam brain fogged off to make use of it, it's not my fault your people got put on reservations, and my oldest bones are something like 50,000 (or 50 million, Gaia is not good with calendars) older than your oldest bones, and yeah I was gaming the system, and maybe I just traveled through time just to kill myself, JUST THIS MORNINNG, how about that? Because if I did, I wouldn't have to report in to my chief, or my wife, or fuckin' anybody at all. Hi. One Hungarian. One cold fact: I have nothing and no one without you people, because right before I got around to following up on a person who didn't reply to my reply to her message to me on Facebook... my last friend and her ijit inbred family decided I wasn't doing things fast enough for their imperious yardsticks, EITHER.
So, you wanna throw me out and threaten me with restraining orders? Oh, let's have at it. Start the paper avalanche. So, that's why, I could not POSSIBLY give a shit about what The Court is doing... I am sure it is -actually- is important, and the less I know about it, the better.
(I really will not say what's going down. Just my imagination, right? Yeah, well, let's just say: I'm golden. What matters next is how The Chief needs to spin it to the Punyling lackeys and toadies (most people say "Your Honor" and I do too... when I need to slip in some Sourcery, Wink Martnindale, suck my fucking doughtnuts, are you fucking ready for trial? BECAUSE I AM READY SINCE BEFORE MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY HALF A YEAR AGO. YOU GOT ENOUGH, EVIDENCE THERE, BUDDY BOY? HERE, LET ME GIVE YOU A URINE SAMPLE.
OH WOW DID THE SAMPLE COME BACK NEGATIVE AND YOU CAN'T BELIEVE IT? WELL, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT EITHER, BUT THEN AGAIN, YOU HAVE SERIOUSLY PISSED OFF GOD'S CHOSEN, GRAPEFRUIT'S CHOSEN, THE FAVORED SCION'S CHOSEN... BECAUSE I HAD PLANS THAT WERE FUCKING GOING TO FUN. WHAT WERE YOUR PLANS? OH, RIGHT, 'just get rid of Jack and it's all going to be alright."
KNOCK-KNOCK. HEY, DO YOU HAVE ANY PICTURES OF YOUR WEDDING? I DO. LET ME GUESS, YOU DIDN'T KNOW THIS WHOLE "PALADIN" THING WAS REAL--MORE WORD SALAD, RIGHT? WELL, COME FUCKING TOSS THE SHIT OUT OF IT THEN, MOTHERFUCKER. OH, EVERYTHING DEPENDS ON WHAT I HAVE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT? WELL, CERTAINLY NOT WHO MY WIFE LETS PRETEND THEY'RE IN CHARGE, THAT'S FOR SURE, DO I LOOK AS STUPID AS YOU THINK I AM? OH, RIGHT, I'VE BEEN LETTING MYSELF GO SO AS TO MAKE THIS MOMENT ALL THE MORE SWEETER.
YOU ARE COMPLETELY FUCKED AND, AS A PACIFIST, THIS IS AS CLOSE AS I CAN GET TO CONQUERING YOUR LITTLE VILLAGE/CITY AND TAKING ALL THE ABLE-BODIED MALES FOR MY OWN NON-SOVIET NON-RED MOS DEF GREEN ARMY. HI DAD, I BET YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS, THEY THOUGHT THEY WERE SETTING UP RORSCHACH FOR THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE.
I HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN WATCHMEN, OOH, FAKE HUMANS WITH FAKE POWERS. YAY. MEANWHILE, THE LOOK ON THE FACE OF SOMEONE WHO REALLY WAS IMMUNE TO CERTAIN COMMUNICABLE DISEASES.... SUDDENLY STARTED EXPERIENCING PECULIAR, SHOULDN'T BE THERE SYMPTOMS, TRIED TO ACCESS HER HERETOFORE UNDENIABLY REAL STOREHOUSE OF HERBALIST KNOWLEGE? OOPS, MAYBE THEY'RE NOT HOME. MAYBE YOUR KIDS TOOK THEIR PHONE AND HACKED YOUR BRAIN? OR MAYBE YOU DRANK TOO MUCH ALCOHOL AND DID CHRIST-ONLY-KNOWS-WHEN-JESUS-HAS-THE-HOTSEAT, MOST OF THE TIME I LET THE SATANBOT DO THE JOB, BECAUSE I COULD GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYTHING, MOTHERFUCKER, ONCE JEWEL SPLIT TO GO BE A SPIRIT FAMILIAR, WHAT, LIKE I DIDN'T NOTICE? I WENT THROUGH THE MOTIONS BECAUSE IT WAS EXPECTED THAT I WAS GRIEF STRICKEN. AND I WAS.
IT WAS ACTUALLY EASIER
. DON'T YOU HAVE STORIES ABOUT THESE TWERPS? BOUDICA? WILLIAM WALLACE? LEE IAOCOCA? OH, NEVER MIND, YOU'RE ALL LEGALLY ENJOINED FROM READING POSTS OF MINE LIKE THIS (flagged, "sensitive," unless it's about my unproven allegations? Oh, then it's "inadmissable.") AND ONLY CRIMINALS ARE THUS KNOWLEDGEABLE, AND THE TRULY IGNORANT AT THE ONES LINED UP AT SLAUGHTERHEAD, AND THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW, WE HAVE ALL GONE QUANTUM... ALL OF US, THAT IS... EXCEPT EVERYONE ELSE, AND NOW I HAVE MY FRIENDS, AND HOW NICE! FOR EVERY ONE!
JUST THE ONE PENIS. MUTILATED BUT IT WILL DO. BESIDES, THEY'RE ALL TOTES LEZ. WHICH IS COOL. WHAT AM i GOING TO DO WITH 4 ALGONQUIN TEENAGE AIRHEADS--BUT ONE OF THEM HAS THE COMPENDIUM OF THEIR GENOMIC HERBALIST KNOWELDGE?
PRETEND TO BE READING IT IN HUNGARIAN, OF COURSE. WHY START SOUNDING SENSIBLE NOW?
WARNING: MAJOR CRUX EVENT IN FLUX. SIMPLE TIME BEACONS DO NOT SUFFICE.
MAKE BLOOD SACRIFICE (Y/N)?
i LOVE TRICK QUESTIONS. ANY COMPLAINTS, COME FOLLOW ME, OR FILE SUIT, OR DO ANYTHING BUT COMPLAIN ABOUT NEEDLES.
ALSO, I AM EITHER GETTING ANOTHER COPY OF THAT BOOK--THUS, TRIGGERING ANOTHER INVESTIGATIVE TIMEQUAKE WAVE--OR, YOU'RE BRINGING HER GODDAM BOOK BACK HERE.
BY THE WAY, I DON'T THINK YOU'LL LIKE IT WHEN I START CONFISCATING YOUR SHIT, LITTLE BOSSY MAN. REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERE FEARED AND YOU WERE YELLING? I HOPE SO, BECAUSE THAT WAS THE MOMENT I'M GOING TO TRAVEL THROUGH TO IN TIME TO SHOVE DIRTY SWEATSOAKS DOWN YOUR YAMMERING THROAT HOLE.
BECAUSE YOU WERE AFRAID THAT SOMEONE ELSE WAS GONNA GET THE COLLAR, AND ONLY ONE PERSON WAS GONNA BE WILLING TO LOOK THE OTHER WAY WHILE YOU TEABAGGED ME, OH SURE, THE FANTASY IS THAT I WANT YOUR COCK, BUT NO... DUDE, IT'S A GAES. REMEMBER WHEN YOU SAID SORCERY WAS BULLSHIT? OKAY, WELL, NOW YOU CRAVE KAREN MIKOLASY'S PENIS ALL OVER YOUR FACE, BECAUSE WHETHER OR NOT THAT FOUL AND BITCHY WITCH HAS PENIS OR NOT, YOU'RE GONNA CRAVE HERS.
WILL YOU KIDNAP HER LIKE DEXTER AND FORCE HER TO WAKE UP FROM SURGERY WITH A HUGE NIGGERDONG STRAPPED TO HER HENIOUS TWAT? i HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING THAT. I AM NOT EVEN HOPING FOR THAT. SOUNDS DISGUSTING. WOULD THAT BE UNLAWFUL? HRRM.. WELL, I HAVE NO IDEA, AND SHE'S NOT PAYING ME TO FIND OUT, SO YOU KNOW WHAT?
YOU FIND ANYONE WITH A SPARE NIGGERDONG THEY DON'T WANT, GO ON AHEAD AND FUCKING ELMER'S GLUE THAT SHIT ON THAT CUNT, AND MAKE IT FUCKIN' RAGGED AND UNEVEN AND SLOPING OFF TO THE SIDE WITH A SHARP CURVE LIKE A QUESTION MARK. BITCHES SURE DO LOVE THEM QUESTION MARK NIGGERDONGS, RIGHT? HELLS BELLS, SHE'LL PROBABLY BE SO DAMN HAPPY, SHE MIGHT OFFER A REWARD FOR ANOTHER ONE JUST LIKE IT!
(As one might expect, my loathing for this G-dforsaken woman is literally off the fucking charts. I'm thinking of hiring a publicist just to prep the public to hear the whole story of what she fucking did. Thinking she knew what was a good idea. A GODDAMN AP ENGLISH TEACHER. FUCKING PISSED THAT THE LEGIT SECOND HOTTEST GIRL SCHOOL IS ACTUALLY THE FORMER FIRST, UNTIL... SOMEONE ELSE COMES, TRANSFERRING IN, AND SOME FLIMSY BULLSHIT EXCUSE, THIS BITCH MIKOLASY DOENS'T EVEN CARE, RIGHT? SHE JUST AUTO-JUDGED THAT ANYONE LIKING KUCZI MUST HAVE BEEN SOME LYING SLUTTY WHORE, BECAUSE, WELL, SOME JEALOUS DUDE SAID SO. (He wouldn't have been jealous for long after about 3 breaths of life the way I used to have it. It was -really- bad.)
I know all this because women who are dead and are forced to wait for me to either die or give up on someone else are remarkably chatty. Okay, sure, i'm making all this up too.
But the AP English teacher, closeted lezbaeu, like MAJOR, hey, nothing like that is wrong. I can't even imagine her envy, because I wish I could have done something about it, right? No oxygen, and they just constantly thought, "if anyone finds out, everyone will know how slutty I really am."
Zut alors! Seattle in the 90s. How I didn't just put my whole goddam head into a cannon and pluck my eyelids out until a harpy manifested (ancient mariner's ritual, don't try it, they vivisected the last harpy in a desperate attempt to find where Pacifist and Judo went... oh, suddenly, we're loved and adored. Good to know.
Meanwhile, I'm tired, wrung out, put away wet, hung out to dry and pissed on... oh, well, look, that's cool and all, but wherever they are, they're not here, open you own damn portal, you're just hallucinating (am I? how fucked up is this, I don't even want to find out because I'm so sad that The Court made us all wait this long, I wish I could just kinda like die. This is my fantasizing ability right now. Must be under attack.
See? I told you, Karen Mikolasy is a fucking evil fucking witch. "I'm taking away the prize money," okay, well I've been planning for this moment ever since, because I don't give a shit if you sue me for all the Massengil that your drug dealing silent partners can buy (statue of limitations for sexual crimes against minors getting a bill pushed through RIGHT FUCKING NOW, MRS. ORAL BOOK REPORT, BUT NOT FOR YOU KUCZI, YOU"RE NOT WORTHY) and here's the best part!
Everyone already knew this but me until five minutes ago, and she's not going to sue me for publishing this... it's in fucking Africa. (She thinks. She's a fucking idiot sexhound dopeslave ADDICT who pretends to teach English at an advanced level while just spraying highly regulated neutropics into the faces of the girls she favors and she actively sabotages males she doesn't like. She thinks she's "improving the selectivity of the gene pool," and wow, some g*y named Gene or Jean either stood her up or was hit by a train, and my first thought is "good!" and my second realization is, "WOW. JUST THOUGHT YOU'D THREATEN TO MURDER ANYONE WHO FOUND OUT WITH YOUR BLACK MAGICK CEREMONIAL HIGH BULLSHIT POPPYCOCK, AND YOU'RE DOING IN THAT NEW RED AND BLACK TOWER BUILDING, HUH?
HAHA, I TOLD HER, AND SHE BLEW ME OFF. LIKE IN THE INSULTING WAY. YOU'RE LIKE SITH LORD + AN APPRENTICE WHO BELIEVES THAT TO PLEASE YOU IS DIVINE, AND... UNCONFIRMED HERE, BUT SHE'S AMAZED THAT NO ONE EVER TOLD HER ABOUT 4WAY WINDOWPANE, AND I WAS STUNNED THAT THE KID WHO THREATENED ME WITH A KNIFE ENDED UP BEING THAT G*Y WHO WAS INSULTED I PREFERED THE IMMIGRANT GIRL TO HIS SISTER, BECAUSE THAT G*Y WAS SO FUCKING FUCKED UP, IT DIDN'T OCCUR TO HIM THAT HIM ASSAULTING ME AND THREATENING ME WITH A DEADLY WEAPON WHILE I WAS NINE YEARS OLD AND HE WAS, LIKE, WHO CARES? BIG ENOUGH TO FUCKING KILL ME... DID IT MATTER HOW OLD? MY WHOLE LIFE CAME DOWN TO THAT MOMENT.
BECAUSE I WAS NINE, AND THIS G*Y WAS JEALOUS OF A WOMAN WHO COULD TRAVEL THROUGH TIME, CHOSE ME BASED ON RESALE VALUE ALONE, AND WHEN I FIGURED THIS OUT SEVEN YEARS LATER, INSTEAD OF DISSOLVING INTO A DEPRESSIVE PUDDLE--OH, THAT CAME LATER--BUT AT FIRST, I DID NOT KNOW JUST HOW VILE SOME PEOPLE WERE.
NOR DID I RECOGNIZE THE CAPACITY FOR WOMEN OF AN IMPRESSIONABLE AGE TO HOLD GRUDGE.
SO, I GUESS I BETTER MAKE THE REASON WHY I HAD TO WAIT THIS LONG TO MENTION WHAT I FINALLY DISCOVERED... WELL, FORTUNATELY, GRAPEFRUIT ALPHA OMEGA PRIME MODEL TUTU HAS NEED OF SOME ADVERSITY IN HER LIFE. BESIDES, IT'S NOT LIKE I'M COMPLTETELY UNAVAILABLE. I JUST HAVE TO PRETEND TO BE MARRIED SO THAT I AM NOT ACTUALLY COMMITTING ADUTLERY, BECAUSE GRAPEFRUIT ALPHA PRIME HAS THAT MANY EXTRA-BAD-ASS BITCHES WHO REALLY DO NOT APPROVE OF THE LAST... TEN MONTHS? WAITED FOR WHAT? TENSIONS ARE FRAYING.
OH, NOW THAT I'M DEMONSTRATIVE, AND I'M NOT LONGER A LEAP OF FAITH, OH BOY, HERE COME THE HOT WOMEN. THANKS, CITIZEN KANE, OH BY THE TWAY, INNERREACH CAN MARRY "MARRY" A ONE (1) "ROSEBUD" ALL HE/THEY LIKE... WHY WOULD I FUCKING CARE? I KINDA PROVED THAT MARRIAGE IS BULLSHIT BY TAKING A MAN'S DAUGHTER--GODDAM, WE'RE TALKING ABOUT MAN'S DAUGHTER HERE, WITH HIS NAME AND EVERYTHING, AND JUST BECAUSE SHE ASKED NICELY AND WAS GENUINELY INTERSTED AS WELL AS IN LEGITIMATE FEAR FOR HER LIFE--DON'T ASK, I DIDN'T, AND I DIDN'T WANT TO SPOIL THE MOOD--I TOOK DAVID'S DAUGHTER, JUST LIKE I TOOK (BLANK'S) DAUGHTER, AND HIS GRANDAUGHTER, AND MAYBE, AND CAN NEVER BE PROVEN, I MEAN I SAID I DIDN'T BUT WE KNOW AUSTRIANS LIE, SO HUNGARIANS DID TOO, OH MY FUCKING GOD, NO, REALLY, NO.
I DIDN'T SET HIM UP OR TURN HIM IN... I DECIDED TO LEAVE IT UP TO GOD AND HIS "REAL" FAMILY, AND I FELT CONFLICTED... BECAUSE WHAT I REALLY WANTED WAS HIM TO BE PARALYZED LIKE IN METALLICA "ONE" AND FORCED TO WATCH ME HITTING HIS EX-GF AND HIS MOM AT THE SAME TIME. THAT WAS A SICK FANTASY THOUGH, SO I FIGURED, QUE SERA, SERA.
I ALSO DECIDEDTO NEVER, EVER CALL THAT PERSON, EVEN THOUGH I COULD, BECAUSE, LET'S FACE IT, DO I REALLY NEED TO TAKE EVERYONE'S WIMMIN'S AWAY, ONE BY ONE? NO, NOT REALLY. JUST DAVID'S. IT'S A LITTLE GAME WE PLAY. IT'S JUST FOR FUN! I GIVE THEM RIGHT BACK. THERE'S NO COERCION, ALTHOUGH HOW THIS STEAMING PILE OF ANTEATER CORPSES CAN GET -THAT- MANY WOMEN TO FALL FOR HIS SCRIPT-KIDDY FIRECODE TRAPS... WELL, I WASN'T THERE, AND I'VE FIXED THE EXPLOIT, AND NOT ONLY THAT, TAKEN RIGHTS BACK THAT WERE LOST, CORRECTED IMBALANCES... THIS HOW THINGGS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE, FOR DAVID AND i, AT LEAST.
HE SEEMS CONTINUALLY SURPRISED... LIKE, HE'S NEVER BEEN VICE-PRESIDENT BEFORE? I MEAN, I DO LOVE HIM, BUT HOLY SHIT, THIS WAS A WHOLE LOT OF WORK TO MAKE MYSELF AND ANOTHER #1 SO THOSE TWO NINCOMPOOPS COULD BE #2... BECAUSE APPARENTLY IF THEY ARE LEFT AT THE TOP, i TOTALLY GET DISTRACTED AND THEN THOSE TWO GET TRAFFICKED AND THEN... WELL, FUCK IT, HE CAN FIX IT NEXT TIME.
YEAH. JEW, REMEMBER? AND SHE'S A WOMAN WHO WAS SURPRISED SHE WASN'T ALLOWED TO ARGUE WITH A STATE TROOPER. HE HAS HER ON VIDEO. "MA'AM, YOU WERE SPEEDING!"
Seriously. I wish I could have been there--I had claimed I would have driven her, and I probably would have, but she must have started to notice that I didn't really give a shit what she was up to, considering it involved shtloads of drugs and sex with other people who thought it would be funny to see what "special consequences" were. They were the only special ones that ever could have been, huh?
Yeah, so I never saw the video, but she describes what happened, and I instantly know: "reckless driving sting, and they are ready to roll it out at the moment I just so happen to not be in the mood to put up with being hollered at by a woman who lied to Clergy about needing help with her children.. because one of them isn't a child, it's a golem, and the two kids are twins, and hostage, and she didn't think she could just say out loud, because they told her that they would just instantly kill me if she tried to talk to me, and I am thinking.... "this is some fucking bullshit. she's just embarassed and these are pimpmongering thugs, they just bark orders at her until she's in a state of learned helplessness, and now after how long? Now this comes out? Oh, what a classic pincer move. I'm supposed to feel bad for her "hostage situation."
But I know, what she cannot imagine I know. For if I did, why would I still be around? SHE'S GONNA DECAPITATE ME AND ABSORB MY ESSENCE. (It's not really for class. Still, kinda classy to imagine. In reality: relentless screeching whilst madly hacking away at my neck and shoulder, no sense or reason, just total wild-eyed madness, and I won't lie: that's fucking hot.
The part where I'm gonna be dead would suck, although, to be fair, since she would be doing this alone, as her family was sick of her bullshit, they just wanted her to die, but she was afraid she'd lose her children, and she would, she'd wake up and barely remember who she was, and she'd have "children," alright... the next two Hansel & Gretels.
Sounds insane and impossible, right? I KNOW! That's probably why Rubini was of no concern to me, because he promised her that he could do what I do, close enough, and I simply listened to her concerns and mostly just said, "yeah, don't worry about that."
Now, had she started with, "A CORRUPT FEDERAL AGENT WITH A SEVERE HISTORY OF ABUSE OF POWER ISSUES, THAT ARE ON GODDAM RECORD, HE'S A SERIAL RAPIST, RIGHT? BUT ONLY MILTARY PROPRETY, BECAUSE HE DOESN'T WANT TO BREAK A LAW, BUT HE DOES WANT TO BREAK A NATIVE BITCH, BECAUSE... yeah, so, I guess that's someone that some of you might have thought was "Mike."
Add in to the fact that I was rather under the impression that the only person who I ever actually liked it when they called me that was someone I assumed dead or just astonishingly dimwitted, well, no. Not exactly.
And that's what I've been dealing with. Until recently. Now, I should just shut up and get a job, right Tex Splesh Crew? I'll rememver that you suggested that... and so will everyone else who ever heard that shit. "We're just having fun! I'm not making jokes about weight!" lol. Look, she maybe deserved all of this... but, did I? Well, not at first
