CRUDE RUDE SHAKESPEARE

UNCENSORED SHAKESPEARE

PORNOGRAPHIC PARODY OF SHAKESPEARE

 THE WHORE GWENDOLYN

She was a shameless young strumpet, born and bred,
In a rat-infested shit-hole, called Maiden's Head.
A full blown retard, totally absent of wits,
As fortune may have it, twas with a nice set of tits.
By day she was hired, as a lowly rug weaver,
By night she did peddle, her crustified beaver.
For just a mere tuppence, she'd darn your sock,
Throw in a quid, she'd sucketh thy cock!
Her problems with coppers were seldom and few.
But to solveth these problems was a hooked-nosed Jew.
One day she was given 'er the most furious scratch,
From whence a deathly odor escapethed her snatch!
Tis something gawd wrong with my fur lined beast!
Was it the raging clap? Or an infection of yeast?
From a kindly doctor, the diagnosis was made,
Excepting a handjob as pretty fair trade!
Not yeast, nor clap, but a bad case of pox,
My recommendation to Thee? Lay off the cocks!
With total aplomb, no attempt to be nice,
"This snatch of your'n is infested with lice"!
A fortnight later they found her dead,
Quintessential case of death by 'head'!

Next week, I will be given you the rough copy and 1st edition of Homeo & Jewliette. The tragic story of star-crossed love involving a raging fag and a beautiful woman who's family epitomized homophobia. Homeo meets his death by fag-drag behind an ox-cart.

STAND BY ME-STEPHEN KING PARODY

AN INCREDIBLY FUCKED UP HORROR TALE

Here is part one of my Stephen King parody. Even by my standards, it's extremely offensive and disturbing. I should make something clear to the readers of my blog. I was a huge fan of Mr. King's early works, especially 'The Shining'. But my enthusiasm faded with each new book he published. By the time his 600th book rolled of the presses, I was totally fed up!

If any of the readers are offended by the contents of this parody, who gives a shit! Every obscenity, racial slur and nasty word in the parodies can be found in Mr. King's novels. The only difference between my writing and Mr. King's is about $600 million in sales revenue! I do marvel at the fact that this man can fire off at least three books a month, and they don't even have make a bit of fucking sense.

"Thank God, America has gone full-retard!" he was once quoted as saying. So I hope you enjoy this installment. If not, I don't give a shit!  The clown pictured above? It has nothing to do with this story. 


STAND BY ME-A PARODY

Chapter 1 

Bartlett

The lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the bedroom in a fiery glow. This was immediately followed by a tremendous clap of thunder that shook the entire house. Anyone else would have shit their pants, but not Bartlett.

In fact, he never lost a stroke as he furiously choked his chicken, which was a nightly ritual for him. With the sheets pulled over his head, he held a penlight firmly clenched in his teeth with a copy of Jugs and Pussy in his left hand while his right hand beat out a staccato on his cock.


Something did get his attention though. A furious pounding against the wall stopped him mid-stroke. His heart began to race and his breath caught in his throat. Fuck me, he thought, is that a monster coming through the wall? He then realized it was only his dad in the next room, fucking the shit out of his mother's dress-making mannequin. "What a fucking douche-bag", said Bartlett, returning to the frantic beating on his cock!

"Now what the fuck was that!" whispered Bartlett, spitting the penlight from his teeth while simultaneously dropping both his cock and magazine. Although the lightning, thunder and his father's sexual assault on the mannequin had hardly made an impression on him, some eerie noises coming from somewhere in his bedroom suddenly got his attention.

Holding his breath he listened intently. Wouldn't you fucking know it. Nothing but a deathly silence! Even the storm, that had raged outside just seconds ago, was finished. It seems his dad had finished with the mannequin and was probably working over his mom. Maybe it had just been my imagination. But then he heard it again! It was a horrific scratching like claws on a blackboard, followed by these gut-wrenching moans. These were moans even more terrible then the moans that came from his parents bedroom on the nights his dad got shit-faced and had non-consensual anal sex with his mother.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Fuck me, he thought to himself, whatever it was, it was underneath my bed. He was now frozen in fear. He had but two options. And both had dire consequences. Option one? He took a chance and looked under the bed. Given the fact that this was a Stephen King parody, the chance of getting his head torn off were pretty good. The other option was pulling the covers over his head and waiting till morning. This could be worse than option one. He hadn't bathed in a couple of months, as a consequence, his crotch was as ripe as month old Limburger cheese left in the hot sun! I could go blind, he thought to himself.

"Fuck it," he whispered to himself. "I'm not a fucking pussy like those fags the Jonas Brothers". He picked up the penlight and peered over the side of his bed. Giving the covers a gentle tug, he shone the flashlight under the bed. He nearly shit himself! In the glare of the flashlight were eyes filled with terror, staring at him through sweat soaked hair!

"Jesus Christ", screamed Bartlett when realized it was his sister Beth. This was a magic trick gone terribly wrong. He had seen that asshole Criss Angel on TV doing escape tricks. Bartlett was pretty sure that if that prick could do these tricks, surely he could. Not completely confident in his ability to do it, he talked his sister into trying it first. He had duct taped her legs, hands and mouth and shoved her under his bed. He told her he would come back in an hour. If she had escaped he would give her ten bucks then he would try it himself. That was three days ago! That's why there had been an empty chair at the dinner table.

Dragging her from under his bed he quickly removed the tape and sat her up on his bed. If his dad found out what he had done, he was sure to get a whipping. He had some fast talking to do.

"Beth, please don't tell mom and dad," Bartlett begged. "I was only having a little fun! Look. I'll make it worth your while to keep quiet!"

Running over to his dresser, he opened the drawer and took out an old cigar box. Lifting the lid, he took out some of his most prized possessions and returned to Beth. 

Through tears of anger, Beth shouted at Bartlett, "How could you do this to me? And how come not one fucking person knew I was missing for three days?"

"Are you kidding", said Bartlett, "we are the most fucked-up family in Bangor. Mom and dad need coat hangers to find their assholes! If you promise not to tell all these are yours."

He was holding his two favorite marbles, an autographed Babe Ruth baseball card and a human ear. He and his three buddies-Gnarly, Fungus and Dipshit-had removed it from this old wino that had passed out behind the 7-11.

"You've got to be shitting me!" said Beth, looking at the measly offerings in Bartlett's outstretched hand. "You gave me $10 not to squeal on you when I caught you castrating Miss Smith's cat! This is going to cost you the hundred bucks I know you stole from the church poor box, asshole!"

Worry lines creased his forehead as he thought of his predicament. If his dad found out, he knew he would get a pretty good shit-kicking. On the other hand, was he willing to part with the money he had worked so hard to steal from the church?

Dejected, Bartlett came to a decision. "Okay, it's a deal. I'll give you the hundred bucks. I hid it in my toy trunk." Walking to the corner of his room, he lifted the lid and began to rummage around looking for the money. "I know it's in here somewhere."

Getting impatient, Beth walked over and stood behind Bartlett and began to berate him. "Quit fuckin' around Bartlett and han.............."

It had all been a ruse so as to get Beth closer to him. What had only been a blur to Beth, was in actual fact a ball-peen hammer Bartlett had swung with Tiger Woods' like grace. Beth had barely glimpsed the glitter of the hammer in the soft glow of the moonlight as it arced through the air. It had caught her on the temple, crushing her skull like an egg shell. She was dead before her body hit the floor!

(Is this Stephen King or what? This is great shit! Some people say I'm disturbed! They say I write like a man who has some deep-seated mental illness! How wrong they are. My mental illness is out there for all to see. I don't try to hide it. Do they say Stephen is disturbed? No! On the contrary, the weirder he gets, the more they say he has Pulitzer Prize potential! The only difference between the delusional ramblings of mental illness and Book Of The Month material is a million dollars in sales. I don't fucking understand that).

"Look what you made me do, cunt!" screamed Bartlett. "You should have thought this out a little bit more before you tried to fuck me over! Think about it! If mom and dad haven't noticed you missing yet, they never would have!" laughed Bartlett, rambling on to himself. He then began to stuff her body into the trunk, first re-arranging the bodies of the little Epstein twins who had mysteriously disappeared last Halloween. Whistling a happy tune, Bartlett returned to bed to finish jagging-off. If he was lucky, he might get a few winks in before his dad came in for his bi-weekly molestation of Bartlett.

 CHAPTER 2

Next morning, Bartlett entered the kitchen and sat down for breakfast with his parents.

"What was that strange noise coming from your bedroom last night?" asked his mom.

"Before or after dad molested me?" giggled Bartlett.

"Before, dear," sighed his mother.

"It was only a scary monster, but it ran out the window," smirked Bartlett.

"I was hoping it was your missing sister, what's-her-name," said mother.

"Her name was Beth, mom! But no such luck. I'm pretty sure she said she was going to run away join the Barnum & Bailey Circus. Just like the Epstein twins did last Halloween," chortled Bartlett.

"I must say, those Epstein twins were pretty adventurous and motivated for six year olds." said his mother in undisguised admiration, giving her husband a look of disdain. "Unlike some people I know!" 

 "Good for them," said his dad as he put down his magazine, 'Pussies & Knockers'. "I wish I could find a fucking job!"

"Well dear, maybe if you spent as much time looking for work as you do having sex with my mannequin and molesting Bartlett, you'd find work too!" said his wife, with a sarcastic grin on her face.

"Smart-ass mother fucker," he yelled as his right boot came up and catching her square in the snatch. She crumpled to the floor.

Casually stepping over his mother, Bartlett opened the fridge and took out an ice pack. "here mom. Snug this up to your snatch and it will take down the swelling."

"What a sweet dear," she grunted from her clenched jaw.

Bartlett then went to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a huge hand gun. "Hey, dad, do you mind if I take your Smith-Wesson to school?" Bartlett asked, waving it in the air.

"Is it loaded, son?" queried his father.

Staring down the barrel and pulling the trigger several times, Bartlett replied, "Shit, I the fucking thing is empty!"

"The bullets are in my dresser drawer, right next to my anal intruder, said his father. "By the way son, do you know how to load it?"

"Sure I do dad, who do you think been shooting all those homeless people?" scoffed Bartlett.

"I told you about gun safety haven't I son?, son," said his dad.

"Only about a thousand times!" replied Bartlett.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, dad!" said Bartlett, getting a little annoyed. "Guns don't kill people! Niggers with guns kill people!"

"That's right, boy.That's why we shoot first and ask questions later whenever one of them darkies try to wander into our part of town," explained his father.


"Why in Heaven's name do you want to take a gun to school?" asked his mother, as she valiantly pulled herself into her chair, just in time to catch a thundering left hook from her hubby, which sent her crashing back to the floor.

"Bitches only talk when they are told to!" screamed his pissed off father. "Why do you want to take a gun to school?"

"For 'Show and Tell' pops! First, I'm going to show it to the kids in the playground. Then I'm hoping they won't tell on me when I waste that cock-sucking teacher, Mrs Ford. I want to teach her a lesson on how to tell a bad apple from a good apple!" giggled Bartlett.

"That's a good one son. I betcha that fucking asshole Stephen King couldn't write anything this fucking good!" joked his dad as he rolled his wife over and delivered another vicious punch. "Wake up bitch, I need ya to run down to the liquor store and pick me up scotch. I have a busy day watching TV."

Bartlett ran to the bedroom and rifled through the drawers, tossing out used condoms and a crusty dildo til he found the shells. He quickly loaded the gun and ran down the stairs. Reaching the kitchen, he stopped, not wanting to interrupt his father who had his mother bent over a stool and was just giving it to her.

(Here is another gratuitous picture of Paris Hilton I stole from her soon to be released biography-"She's Phat and She Likes To Phuck". I don't care what they say about her lack of intellectual ability, she sure knows how to suck cock!!!)


Sticking the gun into his belt, Bartlett ran out the front door and headed down the street. Passing by the Epstein house he stopped and decided to stop by for a little chat with Mrs. Epstein who was out sweeping the front porch.

"How are you doing Mrs. Epstein?" asked a contrite Bartlett.

She had been devastated by the sudden disappearance of her twin boys, Ike and Kike. "Well, Bartlett, I am just hanging in there. I sure wish I knew what happened to my boys," she said sadly as tears ran down here cheeks.

"I heard on the radio that two mutilated bodies were found just outside of Derry. Maybe you'll get lucky and it will turn out to be your dipshit sons", smirked a loathsome Bartlett.

Mrs. Epstein let out a bone-chilling shriek and sank to her knees, sobbing uncontrollaby.

"Don't sweat it. It will take them months to figure out who they were. There heads were missing," said a suddenly concerned Bartlett.

Mrs. Epstein let out another shriek, jumped off the porch and ran hysterically onto the street. She then got crushed under the wheels of a school bus. It was the same bus that used to pick up her sons.

The irony of this was not lost on Bartlett. He couldn't contain himself and began to laugh until his buddies Gnarly. Fungus and Dipshit came and got him for school.

I gotta quit for now. My pit-bull just came in to tell me that he was watching the Eagles-Redskins game, and that dog murderer, Michael Vick just got creamed and may be seriously injured! This day just keeps getting better and better.

Stay tuned for part two. It's already finished.

STAND BY ME-PARODY PART II

Tabitha King

INCREDIBLY FUCKED UP ADVENTURE PART II


This is the second part of my absolutely disgusting Stephen King parody. I have been blessed with a new supply of pharmaceuticals to assist with my inspirational writing. Before I start though, have you ever wondered how fucked-up the real Stephen King's childhood must have been? All the little kids in his stories are never into baseball, video games, Scouts, paper routes, etc. No fucking way! These kids are more interested in dead bodies, starting fires, cavorting with ex-Nazi's, torturing animals and nasty shit like that. This is my homage to the man. Feel free to read any of my blogs to your kids as bed time stories.


BARTLETT, FUNGUS, DIPSHIT & GNARLY GO APESHIT

Gnarly

Bartlett was on two weeks suspension from school because of an incident during a 'Show and Tell'. The Smith & Wesson he had brought, accidentally discharged twice striking his teacher in the back. Bartlett did an excellent job of convincing both the Principal and police that the accident had nothing to do with the fact the teacher had given Bartlett three Ds and two Fs on his last report card.

With two weeks off and nothing to do, Bartlett asked his friends Fungus, Dipshit and Gnarly if they wanted to take some time off school and join him on an adventure.


None of them seemed to interested in Bartlett's idea so he decided to ramp it up."How'd you guys like to see a dead kid down by the tracks near Bangor?"

"I didn't know there was a dead kid by the tracks", said an excited Dipshit.

"There isn't yet," said Bartlett "but I'm pretty sure the four of us can do something about that! I was thinking of asking that mongoloid, Garth, if he wanted to go on a little road trip with us. Are you guys up for it?"

"Fucking right!" they all shouted in unison.

Bartlett

Gnarly added, "This is going to be more fun than the time we chained the doors on the old folks home then set it on fire!"

"Okay then, I want you guys go home and round up some supplies. We'll need food and lots of weapons"

"Yeah," said an excited Fungus, "bring tons of fucking weapons. On our way out of town we can shoot up the school! Wanna know something? I don't know which part is cooler, seeing a dead kid laying by the tracks, or being the ones who are going to put it there!"

Fungus & Dipshit

Half hour later they were back and taking inventory of their supplies. Fungus had a pound of bologna, a loaf bread and his dad's AK47. He had made a stop at Pete's Gun Store and purchased a 1,000 rounds of ammo, no questions asked.

Dipshit had a couple of cans wieners & beans, some buns and a tactical shotgun. As for Gnarly, he discovered his dad's hiding spot for the .50 calibre Schmauzer, equipped with a laser scope, but he hadn't found any food in his house. So he had walked into Ming Wo's Corner Store and clubbed the Chinaman over the head with an ax handle, then helped himself to a 12 pack of Budweiser's, a carton of Lucky Strikes and a box of Captain Crunch cereal.

Bartlett still had the Smith & Wesson, but for added insurance he brought along his fathers Uzi. His dad said one good thing about the Hebe's was that they made a dandy hunting rifle. Slinging their weapons, the boys headed out on a adventure that would soon turn into one serious mind-fuck.

CHAPTER 2

Chief Walker

As they were walking by the Bangor police station they ran into Chief Walker. "Hey, hey, hey! Wait a second boys, what the fuck are you doing with all these weapons?"

 The boys weren't too worried by the presence of the chief. It was a well known fact that he was only firing on a couple of cylinders.

"We're going fishing, Chief!" calmly replied Gnarly.

"Thank God for that! For one second there I thought you kids might be up to some shenanigans. I like to see boys taking an interest in a hobby. You wanna know what I think?

"Not really," said Bartlett, "but knock yourself out.

His eyes glazed over and he stared off into the distance."I think too many of today's young kids are doomed! Listening to that hip hop shit and smoking dope. Why any good ol white kid wants to act like a nigger is beyond me. I heard Dr. Phil say on TV that even niggers don't want to be niggers! Jesus Christ, i think we're totally fucked."

Snapping out of his trance he commented on the boy's fishing equipment. "You won't get shit with that kind of fishing gear! You got to use dynamite. A couple of sticks and you'll have your limit in minutes! Wait here a second and I'll grab you a handful from the evidence room."

Not believing this great stroke of luck, they enthusiastically agreed to wait. "Can you believe this dumb fuck is actually the chief of police?" said an incredulous Gnarly.

The chief returned with a dozen sticks of TNT. "Be careful with these babies. In the wrong hands they could do a lot of damage. Some sand niggers could blow up half the town with these!"

Just then an Army jeep raced by with a whole bunch of panic stricken soldiers in it. An MP screamed a warning to the dumb-struck boys. "Get the fuck out of here. We had an explosion in one of the labs. A shit storm is going to hit soon!" Looking over his shoulder, he saw a mist slowly rolling towards town.

"Well, you don't see that everyday," dead panned the Chief. "That reminds me! Mrs. Maulder says she saw a bunch of clowns over by Miller's Pond. They seem to dragging little kids into the woods. As soon as my deputies are finished coffe break I'll send them over to have a look see. I don't know what the big fucking deal is! Who heard of clowns doing bad things to kids?"

"Isn't that interesting," said Dipshit. Giving Bartlett a conspiratorial wink, he asked the cop, "By the way, have you found the Epstein twins?" (See part one)

"Not a whiff, but I was talking to that expert with the FBI and he is pretty sure they ran away and joined the circus. He says about 80,000 kids in the USA run away every year and join the circus!" Some as young as four years old! Who'd a thunk it?" said an incredulous Chief.

Chapter 8

As it turned out, the boys adventure lasted a total of four blocks before they got tired and bored. They decided to see if the rumor was true that old man Robertson and his wife really did have a million bucks worth of gold hidden in their basement. They were now sitting at the old fuckers kitchen table, dividing the loot they had found.

Bartlett was totally pissed as he looked at their miserable take. Fifty-nine cents, a broken Timex and 4 gold fillings. It had taken Fungus an hour to remove them from a struggling Mrs. Robinson, using an old set of needle-nose pliers.

"Ah fuck it," said a resolute Bartlett, "the day's not completely ruined. Let's go find that retard Garth and take him down to the tracks and shoot him! The we can get our picture in the paper after we tell everyone we found him."

"Oh, oh!" said a very concerned Dipshit. looking out the front window. "Look's like those Army guys were fucking us over!. There's a mist rolling in and it looks like shit is going down!"

Bartlett joined Dipshit at the window and surveyed the scene. "We better barricade the doors and get upstairs," said Bartlett. "Knowing Stephen King, there is going to be a shit-storm of fucking creatures coming after us".

After barricading the doors and windows on the lower floor, the lads moved their arsenal of weapons to the upstairs bedroom. Peering out the window the boys tallied up the creatures that were milling about in the mist. There were the obligatory huge spiders Mr. King seemed to get a boner over. They also spotted a couple of rabid St. Bernards, some Martians and a couple dozen clowns.

"Hey," said an excited Gnarly. "Isn't that Drew Barrymore wandering around over there? What the fuck is she doing? Do you think she's looking for Tom Green?"

"Jeezus Christ, she thinks she still playing her role in 'Fire Starter'!" said an excited Bartlett. "Fuck me, I have prayed to God for an opportunity like this. Hand me the Schmauzer!"

(In respect to Drew, the descriptive scene of Bartlett blowing her away has been deleted)

 "How do you think that dumb-fuck King thinks up this shit?" opined Gnarly.

"Don't ask stupid questions," laughed Bartlett, "haven't you seen a picture of him?"

"Oh, my God" screamed Dipshit, "Isn't that your mother trapped in the doorway of the main library?"

Bartlett strained his eyes in an attempt to see through the mist. Sure enough, he spotted his poor mother, cowering in fear as a couple of clowns circled her.

"Oh, my God! I got to do something!" stammered Bartlett as he shouldered the high power rifle and took careful aim. Squeezing the trigger, the gun exploded with a huge muzzle flash. His mother's head exploded and her lifeless body dropped to the ground. The clowns stood in stunned disbelief. wondering what the fuck had just taken place.

"Nice shot," said a thoroughly impressed Fungus. as he squeezed off two shots from his tactical shotgun. One of the clowns exploded, turning the mist a pinkish tint!

The boys took their positions at the window. The rifles locked and loaded but they couldn't see the clowns anymore.

"Shit, where the fuck did they all go?" wondered Gnarly.

"I guess the gunfire scared them off. Don't sweat it, though, I have a great idea," said Bartlett, totally ramped-up in the anticipation of creating a blood bath. He left his mates, walked down the stairs and entered the living room. Still bound and taped to chairs were Mr. and Mrs. Robertson.

"Okay you old geezers, if you want to live another day, you'll do exactly what I tell you. Understand?" asked Bartlett.

"Yes, we'll do anything you ask, but please don't hurt us," whimpered Mr. Robertson. "Please go easy on my wife, her heart is........" a butt end from the rifle in Bartlett's hands cut him short and knocked him off his chair.

"Shut the fuck up and listen!" screamed Bartlett, "Now I want you to go outside and walk to the corner. I then want you stand perfectly still under the street light. If you move, I guarantee I will put a fucking bullet in your heads. Got it!"

"What kind of kids are you?" whimpered Mrs. Robinson.

"Don't ask me, ask Stephen King! Now get the fuck out of here!"

Bartlett raced back upstairs to join his friends. The excitement and anticipation in the air was palpable as they watched the old couple nervously creep towards the light post.

"Oh, dear," cried Mrs. Robertson, spotting an evil looking clown riding on the back of a spider. "That doesn't look very good, Norman!"

"No shit Sheila! And what was your first fucking clue?" whined Mr. Robertson.

Scared shitless, the old geezers stopped and looked up at the window, hoping the boys would show them some mercy.

"Please boys, don't hurt us," blubbered the Mrs. Robertson, "Me and my husband haven't done you any harm."

"Shut the fuck up!' screamed Fungus, firing a warning shot from the shotgun which took the old lady's leg off at the knee.

Mr. Robertson, in total shock, tried to help his wife to her to her foot. Propping her against the light pole, he went back and retrieved her leg. In a vain attempt, he tried to re-attach her leg using his shoe laces.

The boys began to laugh hysterically at this futilility in the old man's actions. In disgust he turned to them and began to scream at them. "You little fuckers are going to roast in hell!"

"Don't look now, old man, but your wife just fell over," said Dipshit, tears running down his cheeks, he was laughing so hard.

I've got to stop for a couple of hours, my brain is hurting me. I am continuously editing and adding to the stories. So check back every once in awhile and see what kind of sick shit I have added. I was thinking of doing an editorialization on Race Relations but that is a really fucked-up topic to write on. I have two pictures here. One is me, the other is my hero, Mr. King. Send me an email with the correct answer and you could win the grand prize. The winner gets to engage in a cluster fuck with Paris, Britney, Lindsay, Drew and a couple of other hot babes.

THE SHINING-A PARODY

THE OVERLOOK FUCK UP

***Don't bother even starting if you are easily offended. This pure twisted humor and parody. And this is with no apologies to Stephen King. I was once a fan of Stephen, but after "The Shining" I think Stephen clued into the fact that the retardation of the American reader began. He knew he could type out any kind of shit and it was a best seller. So this is not only a parody, it is a homage to the best ghost/horror story written in modern American literature. It's too bad both movies done on this book sucked.


DAY 1-JACK

Jack was sitting across from Stuart Ullman, manager of the Overlook Hotel. Ullman was a little concerned with some of the information Jack had included in his resume.

"Jack, while you were on staff at three different upscale military and private schools, you were investigated for alleged molestations. I don't know how you managed to stay out of jail! We have a reputation to maintain at this prestigious hotel. I really can't see any chance of me hiring you for the caretaker job. My God, didn't any of the parents of these boys press charges?" said a disgusted Ullman.

"It's this way Mr. Ullman, I never touched any of the kids! I was molesting the janitors!" said an indignant Jack. "A guy with a mop gives me a boner!"

"Jesus Christ, why didn't you say so?" said a very relieved Ullman. "I did a couple of tours in the navy myself!" Ullman jumped out of his chair and gave Jack the super secret Navy handshake.

"Before you decide to accept this job, Jack, some really disturbing shit has gone down here. The last man we hired sort of went ape-shit and slaughtered his wife and kids before killing himself!"

"That's really fucked up, man! I've heard that cabin fever can make a man go absolutely ape shit," said an astonished Jack.

"We sort of ruled out cabin fever," said Ullman, starting to get a little uncomfortable discussing the incident.

"How else can you explain?" asked Jack, puzzled by Ullmans uneasiness. "They're all dead and there wouldn't be anyone to say otherwise. That is unless the guy left a note?"

"Well, you see, it took place in the parking lot five minutes after they got here," explained Ullman. In an attempt to steer the conversation to another subject he asked Jack, "Wanna know what was the scariest thing that happened in this place?"

"I can only imagine what it could be," Jack said, his interest suddenly piqued and thoughts of the slaughtered family quickly dispelled.

Ullman rose from his chair and asked Jack to follow him to the door. Opening it up, he pointed to an elegant couch located by the entranceway to the hotel.

"See that couch over there?" Ullman asked, his voice cracking, sweat beading his forehead, his skin turning an ashy gray. "It was ten years ago almost to the day. It was about 3 a.m. and I was working late. There were no other staff on duty and the two security guards were out doing rounds. Just a few night lights were on." His breathing was heavy now and he looked like he was going to faint. "I had just locked my door and as I turned to leave, out of the corner of my eye, I saw two dark figures sitting on the couch. They were whispering to each other in these God-awful voices. The first thing that crossed my mind was that this had to be a scene from a Stephen King novel. Then I realized that they were the ugliest people that walked the earth. Thank Christ the security guards showed up just then. Fuck me, I nearly shit my pants."

"Jesus Christ!" said an astonshed Jack. "Who the fuck were they?"

"It was that cocksucker Stephen King and his wife Tabitha! Who the fuck comes to a resort hotel on the last day of the season at three in the morning? What the fuck were they thinking? I had the security guard pistol whip them both and throw them out the fucking door!"

WENDY AND DANNY

Wendy was sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought. She was trying to read a book but she just couldn't concentrate. If Jack didn't get this job they would be completely fucked. He would never be able to teach again because of what happened at the schools. Jack tried to convince her he was molesting little boys. "Bull shit!" she said out loud. She knew he was butt-fucking the janitors. It was the fucking Navy.

Looking around the dump they were living in, she thought about the time when Jack was teaching at the private schools, they lived in relative luxury. Now, because Jack wasn't making enough money to pay the rent, he made a deal with the manager. To subsidize the rent, Wendy would blow the manager every Tuesday and Saturday. Jack had even made a similar deal with the Domino's Pizza. Every Friday the would get three specialty pizza for a blow job. She even had to blow the delivery guy otherwise Jack would have to make a pick-up. She noticed that the apartment was very quiet. Where was Danny, she wondered.

"Hey Danny? Where are you?" she shouted. "You better not be in the laundry room sniffing my dirty panties!"

"Jeezus, mom! That's dad's job. I'm in the bathroom!" Danny replied.

"I'm sorry, but I hope your not jerking-off! You'll go blind" she admonished.

"Don't be gross mom! I'm only six and I don't even know what jerking-off is!" said Danny. How the fuck did I end up with parents like this? They have got to be the biggest fuck-ups in the world.At least I'm completely normal he thought to himself. He then went into a trance and began to talk to the index finger on his right hand.

"Hi, Danny! How are you doing?" asked the finger.

"Not bad, how are you?" asked Danny.


"Well, Danny, I'm only a finger. How the fuck should I be? Concerning what your mother just said, I wonder if  you could do me a real, big favor?" asked the finger, with some concern in his voice.

"Sure, what's the favor?" asked Danny.

"When you finally figure out what jerking-off is, could you be a pal and use your left hand!?!" pleaded Mr. Finger.

"Sure thing. How are things going with my dad? Do you know if my dad will get the job at the Overlook?" Danny asked.

"Oh, he's going to get the job. Nobody, not even a nigger, would want this job!" said the finger.

"Why doesn't anyone want this job?" asked Danny, getting really scared.

"I'll make it real simple for you! Your mom and dad are crazier than shit house rats! You're going to be spending four months, snow-bound and isolated in a creepy hotel! There's no TV, radio or way out! There are nothing but monsters and ghosts...........!

Mr. Finger didn't finish what he was going to say because Danny let out a shriek then passed out on the floor.
 
Running from the kitchen to see what was happening, Wendy stopped dead in her tracks and let out a painful moan. "Oh my Lord, what in the world is going on here? Who left those fucking shit stains all over the toilet bowl?" Nudging Danny with her toe, she gave him some motherly advice. "Get up you little prick. You better get up, get yourself a rag and clean that shit up!"

She then returned to the kitchen to have a cup of coffee and a smoke.


CHAPTER WHATEVER

Ominous clouds could be seen rolling over the snow covered peaks of the mountains as Jack pulled into the sprawling driveway of the Overlook Resort. Looking in the rear view mirror he could see Danny talking to his finger again.

"What the fuck is wrong with that kid, Wendy! I don't know where he got it from, my family was completely normal," said Jack, polishing off a quart of whiskey and breaking the empty bottle over the kid's head.

His foot slipping off the brake, the car shot forward and crushed a couple of tourists and a bellhop between his car and a Jaguar. Without missing a beat, Jack headed for the lobby to talk to the manager, Stuart Ullman. "Wendy, take the fucking luggage out and clean the blood off that little shit and meet me in the hotel."

Entering the lobby, Jack spotted Ullman near the reception desk, Jack stumbled towards him, crashing into an old lady. She flipped over an ornamental planter and crashed hard on the marble floor. The distinctive snapping of her hip could be heard across the entire lobby.

"Sorry about that chief," snickered Jack as he stooped down, picked up her purse and casually removed her cash.

"That's gotta fucking hurt!" said Ullman, as he took Jack's hand and gave it a hearty shake.

Jack noticed the head cook, Dick Hollaran, standing over by the receptionist, his hands all over the ass of some young chick. "I heard you had ghosts here, but I didn't realize you had spooks, too," he slurred.

"That's a good one, I'll have to remember that one. That's Dick, the token black. Stephen King always includes one them in all his novels. He'll be showing your wife and kid around while I get you up to speed," explained Ullman. "Hey, Dick, get your hands off the girl's ass and show the lady and her son the kitchen?"

"Sho nuff, massa!" joked Dick, taking Danny's hand and walking towards the men's restroom. "Hey Danny, you ever handle a Black Mambo Snake before?"

"Goddamn it, Dick, quit fucking around and show them the kitchen!" screamed Ullman. "Okey dokey, Jack, let's give you a quick tour of  the hotel."

Pushing the button for the elevator, Ullman began telling Jack about the rich history of the Overlook.

"Besides the unfortunate incident with the caretaker in the parking lot, this place has had more than it's share of unfortunate incidents and bad luck. We had a few murders, a couple of suicides and several sexual assaults," sadly explained Ullman.

"That seems like an awful lot of grief for an 80 year old hotel!" said an amazed Jack.

"80 years! That was this summer," chimed Ullman, as the elevator opened and they both got in.

"Stuart, who are those two weird little bitches standing in the corner of the elevator," said a puzzled Jack.

"Oh, them. They're ghosts. Shoo, shoo, get the fuck out of here!" admonished Stuart, waving his hands wildly about, making the apparitions disappear. "Those two little cunts really get on my nerves."

"Who were they?" said Jack.

"A few years back another caretaker went absolutely nuts. His name was Grady. He also chopped his kids up!" said Ullman. "I hope you have got something to occupy your time Jack."

"I was thinking about writing a screenplay and I like to jerk-off three or five times a day," said an enthusiastic Jack.

"That should fill up your time!" said Ullman.

 "That's great Jack. Hey! I almost forgot. Stay away from Room 310. There's this really hot looking chick in there that walks around naked. She got these tits you'd die for and an ass that is so sweet. I tried fucking her and turns out, she's a rotting corpse! It took me two weeks to get the reek off me!"

I need to take a break, so that is it for this edition of my blog. The next installment is filled with all kinds of weirdness and sickness. Doc

LOTR IV-THE SHIRE SHIT STORM

Can I blow you?

INTRODUCTORY WARNING

CRC.com contains some very offensive parodies.They're totally filled with gratuitous sex and obscenities! But what the fuck? Since I enjoy reading my own material, I need to return and do some re-editing to freshen it up. My writing was influenced by the contributing editors of the Harvard and National Lampoon. I also found a lot of inspiration in Matt Stone and Trey Parker. In no way do I assume to be anywhere near the same level as them, but I do try to entertain those individuals who are as disturbed as I am.




 PRELUDE

"So, my friends, thus ends the tale of Bilbo Baggins," sighed Samwise's as he set his pen down and slowly closed the book for the last time.

'There And Back Again' had been a labor of love for three Hobbits-Bilbo, Frodo and Sam. The book had chronicled over seven decades of mind-fucking adventures! The tome was as diverse and eclectic as it's three authors. Bilbo was a brave and daring explorer. Frodo was a full-blown douche bag who did nothing but whine, bitch and complain his entire life.

Sam in GQ

Sam.was very much like Bilbo. In fact, he was more like the nephew Bilbo had wanted than the pussy Frodo. Sam still held a lot of animosity towards Frodo due to the fact that if it wasn't for him, that fucking fag Frodo never would have succeeded in returning the ring to the fires of Modor.

Sam lovingly wrapped the book in a fine piece of cloth then opened the trunk that contained Bilbo's possessions. Here the book would remain until Sam's own sons were old enough to appreciate the dedication and sacrifice that had gone into writing it.

"What have we here?" Sam said to himself. Tightly bound in one of Bilbo's shirts was another book. Sam removed it from the trunk and placed it on the desk. With a sense of excitement and great anticipation, he carefully unfolded the shirt. Could this book contain more of Bilbo's exciting adventures?

A sick feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach as he read the title. "In and Out The Back Door-A Guide to Queer Bars In Middle Earth".

"That fucking faggot!" Sam spit out with venom in his voice. "Maybe the rumors about Bilbo being a backdoor bandit were true!"

Meanwhile................

SAILING TO THE UNDYING LANDS

Gimme a kiss, douchebag!

Gandalf and his companions were just hours into their voyage to the Undying Lands when things began to go sideways. A dark, sinister boat was spotted off their port bow. These were dangerous waters, infested by a dark race of vicious creatures, the Sewmahlians. The creatures of Middle Earth had nothing but disdain for them and referred to as Sea Khoons.

Once renowned for their skill as great fishermen, they soon learned that it was easier and more profitable to jack other people of their hard earned goods.

A warning cry went out from the look-out in the crow's nest.

"Captain Elrond, there's a boat off the starboard bow and I think it's filled with a shit load of Sea Khoons!" yelled out the Bosun.

"Ahh fuck!" exclaimed Elrond. "Do you think they might be a danger to us?"

"Jesus, Captain! You have got to be shittin' me?" was the sarcastic reply.

"Smart-ass, mother-fucker," Elrond muttered under his breath. Not wanting to provoke a battle with these nasty creatures, he decided to change course and put some distance between the two boats.

"Rhimjob," he shouted out to the Elf manning the wheel, "change course twenty degrees and prepare..........!"

Before he could finish the sentence, a huge blast erupted from the forward cannon. A cannonball tore into the pirate boat cutting it in two. Sea Khoons and splintered planking exploded into the air. Screams of terror and pain could be heard from the few remaining survivors who were thrashing about in the water.

Dimrond

"What the fuck are you doing?" screamed Elrond as he glared at Dimrond, his nephew. The boy was a total retard. Because Dimrond was his sister's only child, he had escaped the fate that befell the retarded or crippled Elfs. Usually, they were ground up and sold to Orcs as pet food.

"I thought I told you guys to keep that retard away from the cannons. Legolas, lock the fucker up in the hold with the goats."

"Think that's a good idea chief?" replied Legolas. "Remember what he did to the goats the last time we did that?"

"Ah, fuck yeah! Alright then, just tie him to the mast. Set the sails to full and let's get the fuck out of here!" ordered a weary and exacerbated Elrond.

The ship picked up speed and cut a swathe through the remaining survivors of the pirate boat. A couple of the Elfs took the opportunity to hone their archery skills and began picking off the Sea Khoons as they bobbed around in the water begging for help.

Relaxing in deck chairs watching the shenanigans, were Gandalf and Frodo. Although it was still hours till noon, they were totally shit faced on 80 proof rum Gimli had given them as a going away gift. One day into the journey and it was already a mind fuck! Watching all this violence had given Gandalf a boner.

Gandalf slowly rose from his deck chair and headed for the sleeping quarters.

"Where are you going Gandalf?" asked a bewildered Frodo.

 "I think I'm going to see if Galadriel will give me that blow-job she has been promising me for the last 127 years!" slurred Gandalf.

"Maybe you should take along some persuasion." giggled Frodo as he tossed Gandalf a wooden mallet.

The next morning, as they took in the glorious sunset, Gandalf filled Frodo in on the every minute detail of the sexual escapades he had experienced the night before.

"It was grand, my boy! That bitch could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. It beat the hell out of that cluster fuck we had at "The Prancing Pony"! I know the rest of our journey is going to a very pleasant experience," he opined, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

His revery was interrupted by an ashen faced Legolas.

"You guys are in a shit-load of trouble. Elrond caught your buddy Bilbo molesting his son, Elrond Hubbard, Jr. He's thrown Bilbo into the brig and he says he is going to execute the prick at noon!"

"What's that got to do with us?" asked an incredulous Frodo."Why are we in trouble?"

"Well, it's like this," explained Legolas. "You're his nephew, Frodo. And the apple doesn't fall far from the tree! And as for you Gandalf. You think you can fuck Elrond girlfriend and get away with it? My guess is that both of you will be swinging from the yardarm along side you butt-fucking buddy!"

Gandalf the Wise knew that they were in an untenable situation. He took Frodo aside and told him of his plan which would extricate them from this predicament. They would have to slaughter all the Elfs and head back to the Shire.

"Ain't that fucking grand! So much for living a life of eternal bliss in the Undying Lands!" fumed Gandalf. "I'm definitely going to tear Bilbo a new asshole. Frodo, were going to have to take over the ship and head back to the Shire. We're dead meat otherwise."

"How are we going to do this? It's just you and me against an entire ship of Elfs," whimpered the little bitch. Gandalf gave him a good whack across the side of his head with his staff.

"Quit being such a fucking pussy. You may have gotten  away with that shit with Samwise, but I'll have none of it! Anyways, I've got it all worked out. We just need a little help," explained Gandalf, turning his attention back to Legolas.

"I shouldn't be seen with you guys," said the worried Elf, looking furtively around to make sure they weren't being watched. "What do you want?"

"Legolas, Frodo has come up with a plan," whispered the twisted old man.

Frodo looked dumbfounded and began to protest. "I didn't think of shit, it was y......" He was cut short when the staff caught him on the side of the head, dropping him to his knees.

Gandalf explained to Legolas the nefarious plan to take command of the ship and head back to Middle Earth.

"Really!"said Legolas, his voice thick with sarcasm. "So why are you telling me all this?"

"Obviously we'll need some help. A know you're a devious prick. So name your price!" stated Gandalf.

Gandalf "Hee, hee, hee," giggled Legolas. "I like a man who doesn't beat around the bush. I'm in, but I don't come cheap. I want a never ending supply of muffdi (Elvish for pussy), 20 kilos of scumper (a high potency bud that grows along the river banks in the Shire) and a villa on Lake Evigna."

"It's a deal!" said a relieved Gandlaf, giving Legolas a high five.

Less than an hour later, the slaughter began. After tossing the bodies of the Elfs into the Belegaep Sea, an extremely pissed off Gandalf went to the brig to release Bilbo. He nearly gagged by the scene that was being played out inside the brig. Bilbo had gone into full molest mode and was working on the retarded Dimrond.

"Come on out Bilbo, you're now a free man," said Gandalf with a deceptive smile on his face. As soon as Bilbo exited the cell, Gandalf began to lay a beating on the Hobbit. "You sawed off little cunt. You really fucked up time you butt fucker"

Watcha staring at asshole?

SAMWISE & THE SHIRE

Things in the Shire weren't as peachy as one would have imagined. Soon after his return, Sam married Rose Cotton, the bar maid with the huge set of tits. Not long after that he began to hear the nasty rumors that were floating around the Shire. Seems that Rose just loved the cock. While Sam and Frodo were busting their balls trying to save Middle Earth, Rose was fucking everything in sight. This included every Hobbit in the Shire, a few dozen Dwarfs and even more disgusting, rumor has it, she willingly participated in an Orc gang-bang!

He also has his hands full being the mayor & sheriff of the Shire. His biggest problems were his old friends Meriadoc & Pippin. Their one time little pranks had escalated into full-blown felonies. Due to a very strange and highly suspicious incident, they now owned the Golden Perch Inn. The previous owner, Dildo Baggins, was found hanging from a tree with a suicide note pinned to his chest.The tree he was found hanging from was none other than Treebeard The Ent.

The note left the Inn & all his possessions to Merry & Pippin, leaving nothing for his wife & 8 kids. What made this suicide even more suspicious was in the fact Dildo Baggins was illiterate and his hands were bound behind his back.

Sam decided an investigation into Dildo's death was warranted. His first order of business was to bring Treebeard in for an interview. Surely, the Ent had an explanation as to how Dildo ended up swinging from one of his branches. Unfortunately, Treebeard suddenly disappeared. No one had seen or heard from him in many days.

Coincidently, Merry & Pippin mysteriously came up with a new supply of the finest hardwood anyone could ever want. They used it to construct a magnificent outdoor patio extension on their pub.

Compounding the problems for Sam was the antics of his old friend, Gimli. He, and his posse of Dwarfs would wander into the Shire every couple of months to spend shit-loads of money. They claimed they earned it working the mines of Moria. Everyone knew this was a bull-shit story. These mines hadn't produced in years. Sam surmised the Dwarfs were most likely responsible for the raping & pillaging going on in Rohan. They also fit the description of a bunch of bank robbers that had been plaguing Minas Tirith.

Gimli and his pals would get totally shit-faced when they came to the Shire.Nothing was more fucked-up then a bunch of Dwarfs wasted on ale and scumper. Pippin and Merry loved to watched the shenanigans the dwarfs would get into when they came to their bar. Pippin often told people-"You haven't seen funny till you've seen a Dwarf bending a Hobbit over a toadstool and just giving it to her!"

On one occasion, Gimli, Pippin & Merry were out on the new patio reminiscing about old times while they tossed back ale.

"Have you seen our old friend Treebeard lately?" asked a very inebriated Gimli.

"We're standing on him," quipped a straight-faced Pippin."See that knot-hole over there? That's his asshole!"

All three burst into fits of laughter as a disgusted group of revellers listened in on this sick conversation.

ARAGON & GONDOR

Aragon was also experience some problems in Gondor. After taking the throne and taking the hand of Arwen in marriage,he knew he made a colossal mistake. Having  a great set of tits and a great ass didn't compensate for the fact that she was basically nothing but a tard.

Two years after their nuptials, she bore them a son, Prince Sphïnktýr. He was a mongoloid, a fruitcake & wimp. Aragon spent his days lost in thought.Always thinking about that fine piece of ass Eowyn. There was many a time when he thought about heading over to Rohan & seeing if Prince Faramir was into doing a wife swap. If not, he'll just kill him anyways and take Eowyn. After all, he is the king and can do whatever the fuck he wanted to anyways!

MUCKLARS OF MIRKWOOD

Unbeknownst to everyone who resided in Middle Earth, a serious threat to their happiness was developing on far side of the Misty Mountains. In the region known as Mirkwood, a vicious and ugly race of creature was preparing to unleash Armageddon. They were the Mucklars and they were born to create havoc! They were so loathesome and evil, the Nazgul would shit themselves in their presence! The war they were preparing for, would make the battle at Helm's Deep look like a cluster fuck. The leader of the Mucklars is Fukemgüed.


PRELUDE TO ARMAGEDDON

With the unexpected return of Frodo, Gandalf, Legolas & Bilbo to the Shire, some old animosities began to rear their ugly heads. For example, the very minute Frodo sees Samwise, he begins to whimper & whine like the bitch he was in the previous three books.

Legolas asks Sam why the fuck he didn't throw the bitch into the fires along with the ring & Golum. Merry & Pippin begin to question the wisdom of some of their earlier decisions.

Gandalf is stunned by the rumors and innuendo surrounding two of his dear friend-Dildo Baggins and Treebeard, both of whom he was very tight with!.

He makes a surprise visit to Merry and Pippin at their new pub. While sitting out on the patio with the two Hobbits he makes a very unsettling remark.

"You have very fine looking patio here, gentlemen. It looks vaguely familiar." Reaching down, he sticks his finger in a knot-hole and wiggles it around. Upon removing it from the hole he brings his finger to his nose and makes an exaggerated sniffing sound. "And this smells like a dear old friend of mine!"

Both Hobbits immediately evacuate their bowels into their shorts!

It isn't long before Bilbo is up to his old ways and is caught molesting his departed cousin Dildo's eight fatherless children. The Hobbits of the Shire are usually complacent with the events happening around them, but when a twisted old fucker starts diddling orphans, all bets are off. They nearly beat him to death before Sam can intervene. He's arrested by Sam, who locks him in a cell and then throws the key into the river.

Soon a messenger arrives from Gondor. Aragon says that an advancing army of Mucklars are approaching & he needs all the help he can get. The Rohanians have refused to help him because their beloved Prince Faramir was found face down in the Isen River & Eowen is now in a 3 way with Aragon & Arwen.

They send the messenger back with a demand for $10,000 in gold up front or no deal. It seems Aragon stiffed them on the last big battle. Aragon readily agrees to these terms. Legolas says he is going to bring in a secret army and heads for Rivendell. There, in a hidden valley, is an off-shoot sect of Elf known as the "Phaggots of Phoggymire". These are the most utterly ruthless creatures in Middle Earth. The final battle is a utter mind-fuck with atrocities perpetrated by both sides.

                                                         THE END

*Story to be continued and/or edited in days to come. Sven

SEXUAL ESCAPADES OF PISTACHIO

WARNING-EXTREME PARODY

By some people's standards, this is a very disturbing parody of a Disney standard. It's totally filled with gratuitous sex, violence and coarse language. You have been forewarned so don't bother sending me emails complaining because I really don't give a shit if you are offended.

 A TWISTED FAIRY TALE

In the tiny village of Cunnilinguinni there lived a sad, old man named Geppetto Corleone. His life emotionally empty since the tragic death of his wife Paloma twenty years ago. God, he so dearly missed this woman! She had been, without question, the most beautiful woman in the village! Her hair was as black and shiny as new spun silk and she had eyes that were as green as emeralds. She was warm, kind and a friend to all who met her. And her knockers! Jesus Christ, she had tits you would absolutely die for! There wasn't  a man in the village who could walk by her without getting a boner.

Tit Shot of Paloma

In those twenty years since her death, Geppetto very rarely left his home, preferring to live the life of a recluse.He spent nearly every waking hour at his workbench, either working on his beloved puppets or tearfully gazing at a picture of Paloma. Their's had been a storybook romance. They had fallen in love the moment they met and were married just a few months later.

Both had talked about having many, many children. The wonderful sounds of laughter and chatter filling the house. But that was not to be for there was something terribly wrong. Despite the fact that Geppetto was banging her at least five times a day, he couldn't knock her up. Finally, in desperation, Geppetto had taken Paloma to the village doctor for some answers. Sadly, they were told she would never be able to bear children. Something about a botched abortion when she was twelve years old. Upon hearing this shocking news from the doctor, it took a lot of restraint on Geppetto's part not to knock the cunt off her chair. His Paloma was a whore!

To say things were a little tense in the Corleone home would have been an understatement. Geppetto began to drink heavily. And when Geppetto got totally shit faced, he became very violent and abusive towards Paloma. Forcing her to perform degrading sexual acts that included locally grown produce such as cucumbers, zucchini and butternut squash.

Paloma's shame, grief and anguish became overwhelming. Even if Geppetto hadn't tied her to a chair, she wouldn't have left the cottage, not even to go to church.  Finally, Paloma could not bear it anymore. Her spiral into depression became unbearable and she took her own life by crushing in the back of her skull with a blunt instrument. No small feat considering her hands were tied behind her back!

Carmella, Paloma's sister, was extremely suspicious of this so called suicide. Being a staunch Catholic, Paloma would never have taken her own life. Just days after putting Paloma to rest, Carmella angrily confronted Geppetto with her suspicions.

"You're an evil man Geppetto and you're going to rot in hell for what you have done!" Carmella said. Her voice filled with unbridled anger.

"I don't know what you're talking about, you fucking cow," calmly replied Geppetto with a shit-eating grin which only added to Carmella's fury.

"You know very well what I mean! You killed my sister and you're going to pay!" she seethed. "And tomorrow, I'm going to the police!"

"Really?" replied Geppetto in a calm voice that belied the anger that was now seething inside him. "I think maybe should make sure all your windows and doors are securely locked and bolted before you sleep tonight."

"I think my husband will have something to say about your threats, Geppetto!" she replied. The threat had confirmed her suspicions that this man had murdered her sister.

"You've got to be shitting me. What is that pussy whipped faggot going to do about it?" the sarcasm heavy in his voice.

The towns people were stunned by a double tragedy in less than one week. On the night before she was going to go to the police, Carmella had also decide to end her life by crushing in the back of her skull with a blunt instrument. Not to be outdone by her sister, she tied her hands and her feet with ropes. Even if Carmella had gone to the police, it would have been an effort in futility. Every member of the police force could have qualified for the Special Olympics.

Geppetto's own grief and anger got the better of him one evening. With tears running down his cheeks and Paloma's picture clutched in his hand, he exploded. He threw her picture against the wall breaking it into a hundred pieces.

"It was all your fault, you bitch! I wasted twenty years of my life banging a barren cow. I may as well have been jacking off for all the good it did. My father was right! I should have married that whore Angelina Balboa. She's been a popping out the babies like a fuggating rabbit! Or better yet, I should have become a Priest! That Father Fanducci is getting more stray pussy than the Milan SPCA!"

He then turned back to the work table and picked up his latest creation, a wooden marionette he had named Pistachio. With the love and passion of a true artist, he used his paint brush to finish off the little smile on it's lips. These puppets, he so tenderly worked on, were the replacements for the children he so desperately wanted and it showed in the meticulous craft work.

"If only you were real, my little Pistachio" he sobbed. "I wouldn't be so lonely. We could have talks, I would get you a puppy and go to the park....and ...and...!" He couldn't finish the sentence as he began to sob uncontrollably. He gently put the little wooden boy down. To take his mind off his pain and sorrow, he picked up another of his puppets he was working on. It was a special order from the prestigious Russian Traveling Puppet Show. His workmanship on this number was just as meticulous as it was on Pistachio. Prince Vladmir had just made one stipulation-I want the bitch to look hot. "No problem," said Geppetto, "carving tits are my specialty!!"

After getting into his night clothes, Geppetto shuffled over to the window and looked up into night sky. When he was a little boy and he was feeling sad and lonely his mother gave him some advice.

"Now what the fuck was it she used to say to me?" wondered Geppetto. "Now I remember! She said Geppetto, quit being such an asshole and pussy. You're going to end up a total jagg-off like your father!"

Smiling to himself he turned around and began to shuffle back to his bedroom when it hit him. Fuck me! That's not it. Goddamn it, what the Christ was it she said? Ah yes, that was it! Wish upon a star! He shuffled back to the window and got down on his knees and looked to the stars. When he spotted the brightest of stars, he made a wish. His wish was for a son. A son who could carry on his name. A son who make his house a real home. A son he could molest if he got hard up. JUST KIDDING!!

After finishing his wish, he slowly got off his knees and sadly shuffled back to the work bench. He slowly bent over and blew out the flickering candle. Picking up his latest copy of 'Jugs & Pussies' he headed to the bedroom to jerk-off before going to sleep.

THE AWAKENING

Geppetto should have heeded the warning-Be careful, what you wish! For one day it might just come true! Sitting quietly in the corner of the workshop was a tiny little cricket named Jiminy who was about to make the wish come true. This cricket considered himself one of the luckiest and most blessed of all the Disney characters. He could have been Old Yeller, a lab so gentle and loving, even Michael Vick would have thought twice before torturing it. Old Yeller had the misfortune of having his head blown off by a shot gun blast. What was that all about?  Or he could have been Bambi's mother who got burned to a cinder in a forest fire! Or worse yet, he could have been Goofy, a full blown retard!

Geppetto's wish for a son was going to be fulfilled by Jiminy. He was going to turn the wooden doll into a living, breathing little boy. Jumping up on the work table, he took from his pocket a pouch of magic dust. Taking a small pinch, he sprinkled it over Pistachio. It glistened like tiny, sparkling diamonds as it settled on the marionette.

A miraculous transformation started to come over the puppet. His eyes slowly opened and his tiny hands and feet began to move. He raised his head, then tried in vain to stand, but could not do so because of the strings attached to them. His head was then filled with many questions. Where am I? Who am I? What am I doing with strings attached to me? Spotting Jiminy, Pistachio uttered his first words as a real little boy. "Hey cockroach, don't just stand there with your thumb up your ass, get a knife and cut these fucking strings off me, I can't move!"

This was very odd thought Jiminy, taken aback by this smart-ass, little mother fucker. This isn't the language you would expect from a little boy! Mr. Disney never wrote this kind of shit into his stories! Maybe Walt had relapsed and was fucked up on coke again when he wrote this fairytale!

"Look little fella, that's a terrible thing to say! I'm not a cockroach, I'm a cricket," exclaimed Jiminy. Against his better judgement, he picked up a pocket knife and began cutting the strings attached to Pistachio. The first of many mistakes that would be made on this night.

"Cockroach, cricket what's the difference, you're still a disgusting insect," said Pistachio, rising to his feet he began taking a few awkward and tentative steps on his unencumbered legs. He then noticed the pouch in Jiminy's hand. "What's in the bag, roach?"

"Why you mealy mouthed little prick! This is my magic dust," explained the cricket. "It has wondrous powers that can make dreams and wishes come true. You don't want to fuck around with this stuff!"

"No shit," said the foul-mouthed puppet. "Shhhhhh! Did you hear that?" A nasty plan was already in the works for this devious little boy! "Hey man, what the fuck is that behind you?" exclaimed Pistachio, pointing to something behind the cricket.

Shhh! Gonna fuck her up!

How was Jiminy to know that this puppet had the personality of a psychotic sociopath? If the cricket had only known the evil that was lurking in the mind of this sick and twisted marionette, he would have used some caution. But his guard was down and he made his second mistake of the night. Jiminy turned to see what Pistachio was pointing at. The puppet took the opportunity to pick up a wooden mallet. As quick as a cat, he was behind the cricket. Taking a vicious swing, he caught Jiminy on the side of the head, tearing off one of his feelers. Jiminy crumpled to his knees, then fell over on his side, blood pouring from a terrible gash in his head.

The pouch containing the magic powder fell from his hand, it's contents spilling out on the table. Pistachio gave the cricket a nudge with his foot. There was no response from the crumpled heap. Getting on his hands and knees, the little feller pressed a finger to one of his nostrils then snorted up a couple of lines of the powder. When the shit hit his brain he flipped over backwards as if he had been shocked with a current of electricity.

Getting back up on his wobbling legs, he began staggering around the table. He was completely fucked up. He felt the blood rushing through his veins. His new heart was pounding in his chest. He felt exhilarated. He suddenly stopped in his tracks. Laying open on the table was an old cum-stained copy of Playboy. Looking at the centerfold, he was struck with a new, overwhelming feeling. He had to get laid! Looking around, his eyes took in a wondrous sight. It was Slutskya, the marionette Prince Vladmir had ordered from Geppetto. 

Pistachio's eyes grew dark and an evil grin appeared on his face. He stumbled back to the cricket and took another handful of magic dust. He reeled back to Slutskya and sprinkled her with dust. As it had with him, a magical transformation began to work on her wooden body. Her tiny eyes opened and  focused on Pistachio. A terrible fear gripped her. She didn't know shit before this moment, but she knew waht she was looking at now. She was in for a world of hurt.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Pistachio went into a fever pitched frenzy. He began tearing at her clothes. She let out a scream which was immediately cut short by a vicious backhand from Pistachio. "One more peep out of you bitch, and I swear I will cut your fucking head off!" said Pistachio, his fetid breath nearly making Slutskya gag. Staring at her naked body, he marveled at Geppetto's craftsmanship. A perfect set of tits and the sweetest little knot-hole.

"Vat are you go ink to do to me,' cried a very frightened Slutskya, trembling in terror and vainly trying to cover up her tits and knot-hole, unable to do so because of the strings attached to her arms.

"I'm not going to do anything slut! But you're going to everything that I tell you, otherwise you're going to end up a pile of toothpicks! The first thing you are going to do is blow me!" laughed Pistachio as he dropped his pants. "Aw shit!" he screamed. "Where the fuck is my cock!"

Slutskya began to giggle at Pistachio's predicament. "Hey big man, vere is your svarska?"

"You're dead, bitch!" he screamed as he staggered back to grab some magic dust. He had to wish himself a new cock and get back to business. He was undecided on whether to keep the cunt around for a whoile or just kill after he fucked her six ways from Sunday!

As he bent over to grab some dust, a very pissed-off cricket jumped on his back and put him in a choke hold. Nearly blinded by the blood running into his eyes, Jiminy began wrenching his his arms back and forth, trying to snap the little prick's neck.

"Don't ever fuck with a cricket. You ripped one of my feelers off! I'm a fucking mutant because of you! I am going to kill you, you sawed-off little prick!" screamed Jiminy. He could feel the strength sapping from the little cock suckers body as he continued to squeeze.

His vision was beginning to cloud and tiny pin pricks of light were flashing off in his brain. Jesus Christ, this guy is seriously trying to kill me! In desperation, Pistachio reached over his shoulder and grabbed onto Jiminy's remaining feeler. With a mighty effort, he flipped the cricket over his head. Jiminy bounced once then rolled over the edge of the table and landed with a sickening thud on the floor. Two of his six legs were snapped off when he hit the ground. Undeterred though, he began to scale up the leg of the table.

"No one, not even a Russian slut-puppet, gets raped while on my watch!" screamed Jiminy reaching up for the edge of the table. "I'm going to tear that wooden midget a new asshole!"

After liberally sprinkling his vacant crotch with magic dust, Pistachio was now sporting a mean looking boner. With a disgusting leer on his face, Pistachio swaggered toward Slutskya. When he reached her, he grabbed her by the ears and began to grind his crotch into her face.

"You're going to be pulling slivers out of your mouth for a week!" screamed Pistachio with blood lust in his voice.

"Not so fast cock-face!" yelled a triumphant Jiminy, holding a nail gun in his hand. "Get your mitts off the slut and step away you mahogany rapist!" 

"He, hey, take it easy cockroach. I didn't mean to hurt you! Look, you said a few things. I said a few things. Next thing you know, things have gotten a bit out of hand!" said the mischievous little cock-sucker. Using his new found quick wits, he attempted to lull the bug into a sense of false security. "Look, I softened the bitch up a little bit. To show you what a sport I am, you can fuck her first."

"Look, asshole, I told you I was a cricket!" screamed Jiminy, pulling the trigger on the nail gun three times in quick succession.

THE STARTLING

Geppetto awoke with a start and sat up in bed. Trying to clear the cob webs from his head, he wondered what had awakened him. The he heard the voices coming from his work shop. It sounded like there were three people. Two guys in a heated argument and a young girl about to get sexually molested.

Fear gripped him as he pondered his options. I'm just an old man. Maybe they'll come into the bedroom and kill me! I have no weapons or anything to defend myself, what am I to do?

"I know," he said quietly to himself, "Guido has a shotgun. I'll sneak out the window and go get it!"

Slipping out of bed, he tip-toed to the window and slid it open. Just as he got one leg over the sill, he lost his balance and tumbled into a rose bush. His fear was replaced with rage. Who the fuck planted these fucking bushes here? Thrashing his arms and legs, he tried to claw his way out of the thorny hell. The more he thrashed, the worse his predicament got. Nearly every stitch of clothing had been torn off in this momentous struggle.

Finally, he was able to work his way out of the bushes and crawl out on to the road. He got back up on his wobbly legs. He was now bleeding profusely from hundreds of gashes left by the rose thorns. He quickly made his way to the home of Guido and Maria, his next door neighbors, and began to pound on their door.

"Guido! Guido! Open the door! I need your shotgun!" screamed Geppetto, as panic gripped him to his very soul.

Now it was Guido and Maria's turn to be startled awake. The pounding on the door continued. Maria grabbed onto Guido in terror.

"What is it," whispered Maria in abject terror.

"How the fuck should I know! I was sleeping," answered Guido, fear gripping his voice. "Stay here. I'll take a look through the curtain."

Tip-toeing to the window, he cracked open the curtain and looked out. He then crept back into the bedroom.

"Who is it dear?" asked Maria.

"It's Geppetto! He's naked and covered in blood," replied Guido as he rummaged around in the closet.

"Does he have a blunt instrument in his hand? Do you think someone else has committed suicide? Is he here to suicide us too? Oh, Madonna, I don't want........

"Shut the fuck up!" screamed Guido pulling his shotgun out of a box. He snapped it open, popped in two shells and snapped it shut again.

"Please, don't tell me you're going to give him a gun," pleaded Maria.
 
Guido didn't even bother to answer. he just gave her the-What are you? A stunned cunt or what?-look and went to the door.

"Geppetto? You have 10 seconds to get off my porch or I'll cut you in two", he shouted. To emphasis the point, he blew a hole through the door just inches over Geppetto's head.

"Fuck me," Geppetto said, deciding to cut his losses and get the fuck out of there. As he raced back to his house, he realized he was bloody and naked. The sound of gun fire was sure to bring the cops. One of these days those retards were going to put two and two together and realize he was one fucked up dude. He crawled back in through his bedroom window.

He decided to take a chance and see what was going on in his workshop. He crept over and opened the door just a snatch hair and peeked out. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

THE RECKONING

Pistachio was quick, but not quick enough. Ducking to the left, the first two nails just whizzed by his head. Unfortunately, Slutskya was impaled with both nails! One struck her in the head, the second lodged in her right hooter! Readjusting his aim, Jiminy's third shot caught Pistachio in the left side of his chest and spun him like a top.

Triumphantly standing over the wooden pervert, Jiminy brought up the nail gun and aimed it at Pistachio head. "Any last words dick-wad before I kill you?" stammered the battered and bloody cricket.

To Pistachio, it was nothing but a blur as the shoe came down on Jiminy. The cricket's guts exploded out his asshole and splattered against the wall. Standing over the bench was Geppetto, his shoe raised for another strike on the cricket.

"What's going on here?" screamed the puppet master as he dropped the shoe and lovingly picked up his puppet. "What miracle has brought life to my Pistachio?" said Geppetto. tears of joy running down his cheeks.

The little prick began to whimper like a bitch. With a demeanor that belied the fact that he was responsible for the carnage that had taken place, Pistachio looked up at Geppetto and whimpered, "Daddy, you saved me."

So ends part one of Pistachio.

Doc