GARTH THE RETARD

SuperGarth

A VERY OFFENSIVE PARODY

Before getting into today's topic, let me make something perfectly clear. I've been professionally involved for many years in the mental health field. Two year into my college education, I took a summer job in a facility for the mentally handicap. It was like stepping into an episode of 'The Twilight Zone'. It was a total mind-fuck with the sights, sounds and smells! The shit I witnessed, both literally and figuratively,  was beyond description and comprehension.

After completing college and post-graduate work, I decided to dedicate my life to making a difference in the lives of these individuals. What a colossal waste of fucking time.

Let me make this so clear that even a retard can understand my position. There's an old saying-You can put lipstick on a pig, but at the end of the day, it will still be a pig, Oprah or Ellen! Fuck, as you can tell, I can't stand these two self-centered, egocentric assholes!

This rule of thumb also applies to the mentally retarded. No matter what you do to change them, such as giving them hours of training or mainstreaming them into the school system, at the end of the day, they're still retarded.

Before you go ballistic and think I'm nothing but an insensitive prick, just use some common sense and objectivity when you read this hilarious tale. Although I have said that this is a parody, much of this story is based on fact. There are approximately 2.5 million retards in the U.S., and besides a few token mongoloids you see on TV or in movies, how many famous retards are there? Sure, you have Sean Penn and Nicolas Cage but who else has made it? Paris Hilton? You are far from being classified as a rocket scientist when all you can do is party and suck cock  Pictured on the left is Paris with her adopted son, DeSean. Following in the foot steps of some other celebrity retards, Sandra Bullock, Angelina Jolie and Madonna, who have gone to Africa to adopt even though there are thousands of American babies rotting away in orphanages, Paris headed to Angola to pick up her own throw-away baby. It seems a conniving spear chucker saw an opportunity to score big time and sold Paris this baby chimp stolen from the Luanda Zoo. Hilton paid a reported $6 million for the little feller. Okay, who else? The entire Khardasian family, you ask? Alright, but anybody else? Lady Gaga you say! Alright, you got me there, but how many more? Beyonce, Jennifer Hudson, Renee Zellweger....okay, let's forget about the entertainment field.

Kobe Bryant

Well, how about basketball, baseball and football players you ask? I'm referring to people who actually contribute to society! These over paid gang bangers don't count unless you're semi-retarded and idolize these cretins.

Miss Retard USA 2011

There are some very rude people in today's society who have a need and a deep desire to denigrate these poor unfortunates. Referring to them as tards, mongos, pea-brains, dip-shits, fuck-heads, jerk-offs, shit heads, etc. To the vast majority of my professional colleagues, it is plain, simple and very straight forward-they're "Retards".

As difficult as it is to work with retards, you have these cock suckers who have this need to make things more difficult by changing the playing field! Especially when it comes to diagnosing and classifying the many different mental disabilities. This is problem is exacerbated by the 'politically correct' bullshit that has fucked things up royally.

Because of this need to be PC, mental health professionals have found it necessary  to continually change the terminology when it comes to retards. For example, let's take the term mongoloid. How the fuck was this offensive?  The worst case scenario would be if you're a Mongolian and someone mistakes you for a mongoloid. I guess this would be a mind-fuck for sure.

So guess what happens to the term Mongoloid. This prick comes along and decided it was better to say they have "Downs Syndrome". So who the fuck has "Ups Syndrome"?

The worst offenders are these do-gooder community organizations, especially Community Living International. They call themselves advocates for the retarded sector of our society. Do you want to know what an advocate really is? They're the pricks who stand on the side-lines telling everyone else how to do their job. And do they ever do any hands-on work? Not on your fucking life!

I had an encounter with one of these groups recently. They were incensed when I referred to the retards as being 'disabled'. They said they preferred this absurd term 'differently-abled'. I said using the word 'differently-abled' has the connotation that they're able to do something constructive and actually contribute to society. There isn't much demand in the work force for people whose resume includes shitting their pants and/or jerking-off or butt-fucking! One of the members of Community Living said I shouldn't be working with these 'people'! First I said that she as being generous by referring to them as 'people'! Then I added-" I wished the fuck you should have told me this years ago. If I had been working with real 'people' I'd be making a 6 figure salary! So go fuck yourself!"

Besides, it really doesn't matter what you call them because they are much too stupid to care or give a shit. Look at the guy pictured below. Do you think he has anything to worry about? Does he give two shits when it comes to what he is called to his face?

Garth Busey

Let's get to the main topic-Garthism. Having worked in the capacity as a therapist in several institutes, I have come in contact with literally thousands of retards. For whatever reason, at least 80% of them were named 'Garth'. What is even more surprising and intriguing, 15% of them were females!  Several of my colleagues and I were discussing this fact at a weekend retreat for psychologists. After an evening of some very heavy pharmaceutical drug use, followed by copious amounts of vodka and scotch, we made an attempt to hypothesize the reasons and causes of this phenomenon. These were the questions, answers and scenarios we discussed.

• Did the parents know the kid was retarded the minute they laid eyes on it? "Gee, look honey, the kid is retarded! I guess we have to name him Garth!"

• At the moment of birth, the parents excitedly ask-"Doctor, is it a girl or a boy?" The doctor and the nurse both take a good hard look and tell the parents-"It is neither, it's a fucking 'Garth'!  To which the husband replies-"Ah, shit, not another one, we got to quit fucking honey!" 

Garth Heisenberg

• Is it possible that the name Garth is capable of causing retroactive retardation? In 2010, Dr. Heinrich Weizer published a book entitled "Who The Fuck Would Name Their Kid Garth?" In this book, he talks about an actual case study he was involved with while working at the prestigious Klinghoffer Behavioral Science Clinic. This clinic is affiliated with the Harvard Medical School. The case involved the son of Marissa and George Heisenberg. In 1980, they gave birth to a son. It soon became apparent to everyone that this was a child prodigy. For reasons of their own, the Heisenbergs decided to wait till the child was four years old before giving him a first name. 

 In the interim, he was referred to as 'Baby Hebe' by friends and family. This child was extremely gifted. He could play several musical instruments by the time he was two. He was fluent in several language and could do complex math and algebra functions.

Things came crashing down the day after his fourth birthday. 'Baby Hebe' was sitting at the piano playing Mendelson's Piano Concerto in B Flat, when he stopped and said to his parent-"Mother and father, I want to thank you for the wonderful party you had for me yesterday. And I want to thank for the wonder life you have provided for me. To repay for this wonderful opportunity, I plan on becoming a research scientist and curing cancer. I'm also going to become rich and famous and take care of you both. All I ask of you is one more thing. What name have you decided to give me?"

Both parents, bursting with pride, decided that it was the perfect time to give him the name they had thought long and hard before coming to a decision. "Son", said his proud father." your mother and I have decided on the name Garth". And the second the word left his lips, the kid instantly lost all his bodily functions, shitting and pissing his pants and drooling like a mongoloid. He then began to demolish the entire house and contents. Nothing but totally incomprehensible gibberish was coming from his mouth. He was immediate institutionalized, unable to do anything on his own except jerk-off and play with his own feces. Is this proof to confirm the retro-active retardation theorem? My colleagues think that is a distinct possibility!

Famous Irishman Garth McGarth

Here is another fact concerning the retards named Garth. They were by far the most vicious and violent patients I have ever worked with. Piss them off and they'll tear off your head and shit down your neck. They also possess an innate ability for stalking and hunting targets they wanted to destroy.

This is a true story, For several years I worked extensively with a Garth who could become nearly invisible while on a search and destroy mission. Even a brightly lit hallway, devoid of doorways or furniture to hide behind, was of no challenge to his chameleon-like abilities. You wouldn't know he was there until a thundering punch would completely shatter every bone in your face.

They also have a pain threshold that is off the scale! And they completely indestructible and  impervious to injury. I have seen 7 or 8 attendants take down a Garth and try to subdue him by putting their boots to his head only to have the Garth jump up with a grin on his face and begin to tear the attendants apart.

There is nothing more awe inspiring than to watch two Garths going at it, toe to toe, for seven or eight hours-busting tables, chairs, TV sets over each others heads. In one staged battle (downloadable on Youtube), two Garths were actually using other patients as clubs to pummel each other.

If the government could train these guys for warfare, you could send 10 Garths out on a Search and Destroy mission and you would be guaranteed a 100% success rate. If Roosevelt had unleashed a thousand Garths on Japan, he wouldn't have had to nuke them back to the stone-age!

LEAGUE OF RETARDED SUPER HEROS

 "X/Y CHROMOSOME-MEN" 

SpiderTard

WARNING-EXTREME PARODY

What's scarier than coming face to face with an extremely pissed off grizzly bear? Give up? It's having a close encounter with an extremely pissed off retard. This tale chronicles the chaotic and intriguing adventures of a pack of semi-organized retards who attended the Sunnyvale Sheltered Workshop.

Although offensive and lacking any semblance of political correctness, just keep in mind it is done so at the expense of sector of society that is impervious to insult and any form of personal attack.

Although totally unnecessary, I always give my standard warning to those of you who are unfamiliar with my blog. If you are easily offended or belong to one of those fucking self-righteous community organizations, I really don't give a shit. For these unfortunate people, there are 16 million blogs in cyberspace that are filled with mundane and boring crap, tailor made for pussies, faggots and religious fanatics. I write strictly for those of you who are thoroughly entertained by sick, twisted and disgusting stories.




This is based on a true story (just like Paranormal Activity and The Fourth Kind). If Hollywood can get away with this bullshit, why can't I?


CHAPTER ONE

Sunnyvale Five

It started out as a typical day for the retards who attended Sunnyvale Workshop. Left unsupervised by their minimum wage care-givers, half the tards milled about the room like sheep, while the rest furiously jerked off.

This aimless milling about was starting to piss off the most imposing retard in the room, Garth 'The Hammer' Owens. Standing just under six feet and weighing in at two hundred pounds of rock solid muscle, this was one guy you didn't fuck with.

Garth had to be institutionalized when he was only six years old after an extremely disturbing incident in which he broke into the ASPCA and tore apart 36 dogs, including 12 pit-bulls.

After admission to the Illinois State Hospital, Garth was given an evaluation by two psychiatrists. They diagnosed him as a socio-psychopathic retard, making him one of the most dangerous people in the world. One of the psychiatrist said that if had to chose, he would be more comfortable with Jeffrey Dalmer and Ted Bundy living next door to him as opposed to Garth.

When the doctors were asked for a treatment plan for Garth, they both suggested euthanasia and they weren't fucking around or blowing smoke up anyone's ass!

CHAPTER 2

"Okay guys, sit down and shut the fuck up! As president of our club, I want to get this meeting started." he screamed.

The retards continued to mill about, totally oblivious to Garth's attempts to get some order in the room. A potentially fatal mistake if Garth got too pissed off. Garth decided it was time to bring some order to the room. Picking up a desk, he effortlessly raised it over his head and brought it down on Nathan. Garth hated Nathan because he was one of those cocky, smart-ass, mother fucking mongoloids.

"Who the fuck made you King Retard?" protested Carter, another of those mongoloids Garth detested. Carter looked around the room hoping to garner some support from the other retards. A few of the tards began to mutter in agreement while the smarter ones realized that was was potentially a fatal mistake by Carter. They slowly put some distance between themselves and Carter.

Not realizing that he was in mortal danger, Carter continued to protest..

"And what makes you think you can tell us what to do?"

C. "SuperTard" Brown

Garth, well versed in the art of subterfuge, calmly approached Nathan. He even had this huge, shit-eating grin plastered on his face so as to lull Carter into a false sense of security. As soon as he was next to Carter, his composure was immediate replaced by rage. He delivered a crushing blow to the side of Carter's head.

Looking around at the now pacified retards, Garth asked "Does anyone else have any questions?" Seeing that the room was now silent and in total agreement with his self-election as president, he continued. "Last week we were talking about forming a special club. So today lets figure out what kind of club we should make. Has anyone got any ideas?"

"Let's be a motorcycle gang!" said a very excited retard in the back of the room.

"We ain't got any fucking motorcycles, you moron!" said Jonathan, clearly disgusted with the suggestion.

"I was thinking maybe we could become movie stars," opined Larry, " but my dad says they already have too many retards in the movies like Sean Penn, Nicolas Cage, Robert Downey and Seth Rogen. He says we should be super heroes, and God willing, maybe some of us will get killed. I can't figure it out what he meant when he said that. You guys wanna be super heroes?"

Every hand went up except three. Harold and Ryder were busy jerking each other off. Reggie, because he couldn't tell the difference between his legs and his arms, was attempting to raise his leg above his head. In the process, he lost his balance and took a header through the window. The other retards raced over to see how he was doing. Reggie had crashed through the windshield of the Handicap Bus. By the amount of blood pooling, it was obviously that Reggie was in a serious situation. None of the retards bothered to call to the care-givers for assistance, but instead, returned to the meeting in process.

"Okay you assholes, get back to your seats!" screamed Garth. He was thoroughly disgusted by the fact they had already lost a Super Hero and they haven't seen one day of action! "Tomorrow, I want you come dressed as your favorite super hero."

The meeting came to an abrupt end when Jackson, a care-giver known fpr his no-nonsense attitude, entered the room. "It's time for you worthless pieces of shit to get the fuck out of my face and get on the bus!" he screamed. "Where the hell has Reggie gotten too?"

They all pointed to the shattered window. Jackson raced to the window and saw Reggie's legs sticking out of the windshield.

"Fuck me! I'm going to be filling out forms for a week!" screamed Jackson as he ran for the door.

CHAPTER 3

The next day they met, all decked out in their favorite costume. Supermen, Batmen and Spidermen. But there were a few surprises. Leon was dressed as Barbie, Mason was Freddie Kruger. Harold and Ryder were buck-naked and were jerking each other off! They were all chattering and giggling like a bunch of little girls and this was really starting to piss off Garth. 

"Guy's! Shut the fuck up and lets get started. I got some really good news. Jamie's dad bought him a police band radio. Know what that means?" asked Garth. Not one of the dough heads had a response. "We can listen in on the cops and find out where the crimes are happening!"

The door opened and Jackson and another care-giver named Orville entered the room. Jackson had a mini-cam in his hand and Orville was carrying a lap-top. Neither seemed shocked or surprised by the get-ups the boys were wearing.

"All right, gentlemen. Today is Wednesday, so you all know what that means, right?" asked Jackson.

"Today is YouTube Day!" they all screamed in excitement.

"That's right boys. Time to pair up and start pounding the shit out of each other. And remember, the guys who get the most hits on Youtube by the end of the week, get a whole box of Oreo cookies," explained Orville.

CHAPTER 4

They were gathered on the roof of a fourteen story building. Gary was showing off the modifications his father had made to his Spiderman costume. Duct taped to each of his wrists was a turkey baster filled with Elmer's Wood Glue. The other Super Heroes were totally jealous.

"My dad says I'll be able to fly through the air just like the real Spiderman! Shooting out webs and swinging from building to building!" said Gary, pumped up with pride and excitement.

Garth was enraged by the fact that Gary was in the spot light and was ready to tear the smart-ass, mother fucker a new asshole. But instead, he decided to show his leadership by asking Gary to give a demonstration.

Backing away from the edge, Gary took off as fast as he could. Waddling like a duck with a broken leg, Gary ran at full speed. Reaching the edge of the roof, he leaped off the edge and aimed his spider webs at the building across the street. A couple of blobs of Elmer's glue dribbled out of the turkey basters as Gary tumbled over and over again. His death scream could be heard for miles, echoing off the buildings. He hit a transit bus at terminal velocity then bounced 20 feet in the air. He ended up skewered on a decorative fence around the Starbucks. "That's gotta fucking hurt!" said a waitress, setting down a couple of cappuccinos on one of the tables.

CHAPTER 5

The superheroes were standing just outside the police cordon. They had picked up the news on the police band radio about the hostage situation at the bank. One of the patrolmen had spotted them and had gone to warn his Sarge. "I hate to tell you this Sarge," he whispered, "but those fucking super retards are here."

Glancing over at them, he responded in anger. "I am getting sick and tired of them always showing up at these crime scenes. Those do-gooders and the press may think they're all so cutesy and everything, but I gotta tell you, they piss me off as much as they creep me out. Try and keep them out of harms way, for chrissakes!" he said in exasperation.

The Super Retards were discussing their plan of attack. They were arguing over who was going to get all the glory by saving all the hostages and killing the bank robbers. Finally, Garth decided to make an executive decision. It was going to be Harold, 'The Flame' who was to be today's hero. "Okay Harold, here is the plan. You are going to run in the bank and use your super flame powers to subdue the bank robbers, okay?"

"I will be making everyone very proud of me," drooled the tub of shit in an ill-fitting costume. "Help me get ready, will you?"

Ronald took a five gallon can of gasoline and poured nearly the entire contents on Harold. He then handed him the can. "The Flame's" cheeks bulged out with gasoline as he took a mouth full. Handing Harold a Bic lighter, Garth told him the rest of the plan.

"As soon as you get in the bank, shoot the flames out your mouth and torch the bank robbers. All the hostages will be free to run out. We'll gather around you so the newspaper men can take our pictures. You guys. If were lucky maybe one of the pretty teller ladies will even fuck us," explained Garth, suddenly getting a huge boner as he thought about corn-holing a woman who wasn't retarded enough to eat bugs and shit.

This got the retards to giggling like little girls again. They then began to high-five each other. Each of them pitching a major tent in their costumes!

"Can we count on you Harold?" asked a concerned Garth, "We don't want another fuck up like the Spiderman incident!"

"Don't worry, fellas. You can count on me," he said proudly. He then burst into a coughing fit. "Ah fuck, I swallowed the gas, give me another swig Ronald!"

Reporters, police and witnesses were extremely shaken by what followed. Their recollections were somewhat hazy, except for the fact that the twentyfour hostages and all the bank robbers were burnt to death. But the basic facts were all the same. First they smelled the overwhelming odor of gasoline, then they saw a figure running towards the bank like a retarded duck or goose. Then there was a huge swooshing noise then a tremendous explosion that blew out the front of the bank. The entire structure was enveloped in an inferno.

 "Well men," said a really pissed off Garth, "looks like Harold really fucked up.  We aren't going to be heroes today, goddamn it!"

"I guess we aren't going to get fucked either?"asked Bradley, the crime fighting "Chickenman". Not having the conceptual capabilities to realize the tellers were now just crispy critters.


That's the end of the first installment. In the next excerpt, the boys break into a gun shop and get into an armed stand-off with the police.

SE7EN DWARFS GO APESHIT

A PIXAR PORNO

DisneyCorp has begun  pre-production of the R-rated version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. This movie will be totally non-PC. Some of the titles under consideration to attrack a wider audience were-Snow White Three Crackers, A Couple of Spics a Niggah and a Hebe.

Fuck it, said Marcus Wendus, president of DC, let's push the envelope and make it appealing to every cross-section of today's society. So they decided to have lots of sex, drugs, pussy, retards, gang wars and all the other good shit that make movies what they are today. Pixar is really excited about their contribution to this production. This the first time we will be doing pixelated hummers, cluster fucks and gang bangs. DC has penciled in an A-list of movie stars. There is hope that Tim Burton or Peter Jackson will be directing. Here's a peek at the movie.


CAST & CHARACTERS

ENCHANTED FOREST

Doc-Harrison Ford-Was at one time a practicing physician. He lost his license  because of misconduct, malpractice and ethics unbecoming to a doctor. For example, he performed illegal abortions, sold Rx for Oxycontin and would routinely accept blow-jobs for services rendered. He is not only the head of the Dwarf Crime Syncicate, but he runs the entire Enchanted Forest with an iron fist.

GRUMPY-MICKEY ROURKE-A steroid fueled lunatic. He's the muscle of the family. Does all the drug and protection collections for the family. He's also in charge of the drug distribution.


SNEEZY-ROBERT DOWNEY JR.-A very complex, conflicted and contradiction in and of himself. On one hand, he is a degenerate coke head, but having a Masters Degree in chemistry from MIT (Munchin Institute of Technology), he runs the drug lab and does quality control. The shit he makes has had a serious impact on the Hobbit's share of the drug market.

DOPEY-SEAN PENN-Grumpy's cousin. When he was five years old, his mother caught him having sex with some woodland creatures. Doc diagnosed him as a full-blown retard with some deep seated psycho-sexual deviations. Upon hearing this, his parents dumped him in a group home where he was viciously sodomized on a regular basis by the fags who ran the place. He was rescued by Grumpy when he found out his situation. Because of his limited mental capabilities, he is used primarily as a "mule" for the family business. He is a prime suspect in the sexual assault of Goldilocks, Little Red Riding Hood and Harry Potter.
  

BASHFUL-MATT DAMON-Sociopathic goon. An extremely vicious prick who runs the prostitution business.He has combed the country side looking for fresh whores. Some of the notable fairytale/cartoon women he has forced into hooking are Mother Hubbard, Tinkle Bell (she's real tight fit) and the Little Old Lady Who Lived In A Shoe. You remember her as the woman who had so many children she didn't know what to do? Seems that all these children have done a real number on her snatch. To compensate for the stretched-out wazoo, Bashful has had all her teeth pulled so she gives one of the best gummers in the Forest!

SLEEPY-MARK WAHLBERG-an unrepentant "skin-head" who would dearly love to stomp on Happy's head. Sleepy's in charge of security for the Family and their business interests.

HAPPY-DENZELL WASHINGTON-Is the designated token nigger that DC is obligated to include in their movies. He's a really close friend of Sneezy. They met while they were serving time at Wonderland Reform School for drug convictions. Has a lot of connections with the Black Dwarfs that live in Sleepy Hollow Projects. Also a gun runner for the Munchkins of Oz.


NEVER NEVER LAND


Snow White-Nicole Kidman-Imports massive amounts of China White Heroin. She has a very tenuous truce with the Dwarfs. A real cut-throat bitch. Doc has many a time wraned the other Dwarfs-"Watch your back when this cunt is around!"

Cinder-Ella-Halle Berry-Happy's girlfriend. Was added at the cast because Denzell said that DisneyCorp is another racist conglomerate that is always fighting to keep the Blackman down. Interestingly, she's was also fucking Sleepy, till Grumpy found out and ended it knowing this would have had some dire consequences.

3 Pigs-John Goodman, Jack Black & Philip Seymour Hoffman-rogue, dirty cops who shake down the Dwarfs, Munchkins, Hobbits, Lilliputians and the Darkies.

OZ

Wicked Witch of the West-Angelina Jolie-runs a high-class whore house on the outskirts of Emerald City. It caters to kinky sex addicts. Her clientele include Orks, goblins, Gandalf, Prince Charming and other perverts.

Mayor of Oz-Vern Troyer-this sawed off little prick is a degenerate sex/heroin addict. The top Lilliputian has been black-mailing the Wizard of Oz. Seems he took some pictures of the Wizard having sex with an underage Dorothy.

Little Bo-Peep-Paris Hilton-Top earner for the Wicked Witch. She loves the cock!!



SLEEPY HOLLOW DARKIES

THE KHOON-Chris Rock-motor-mouthed smart-ass crack head. Nobody likes this prick. Is the gang leader.

NIGGER-ON-THE-TRIGGER-Snoop Dog-Runs Sleepy Hollow drug business. Produces and directs pornos.

PHUCK HEAD-KANYE WEST-does all the business negotiations for the "Hollow". All-round nice guy. Is liked by just about everybody.

PLOT & SUB-PLOTS

The Dwarfs have abandoned coal mining for the drug manufacturing business.  Doc explained it to the rest of the Dwarfs-"Who, in their right fucking mind, would bust their balls mining coal for $100 a ton, when good smack will get you $300 an ounce?" They have converted their coal mine into a lab. Sneezy is making some of the best shit this side of Disneyland. Things were going great in the Enchanted Forest until the Three Pigs started getting a little greedy. They began to squeezing a little too much out of everyone involved in the drug and prostitution business. To make matters even more tenuous, there are rumors that a gang alliance was being negotiated involving Hobbits, Elfs and Gnomes. This alliance would have the muscle to wipe out the Dwarfs and take over their business interests. Word has it they have put out a hit on Doc. With him out of the picture, the Dwarfs would be fucked. Shit starts to go down from the opening scene! The Dwarfs meet Snow White in a tavern. Dopey slips her a roofie into her drink. They take her back out back and gang bang her!

The Dwarfs begin negotiations with Lilliputians to form an alliance to counter the Hobbits planned take over of their territory. Through Happy, they have the cooperation of the Darkies of Sleepy Hollow who control the gun trade.

MEMORABLE SCENES

While doing some shooters in a gay bar (he's not gay, he was dropping off a supply of meth) Grumpy spots four of the guys who sodomized Dopey. He waits outside in the corral for them and when they get into their silver carriage, he empties 2 clips from a Mach 10 into it. For good measure he shoots their horses and torches the carriage.

The 3 Pigs pull an off-duty raid on Snow White's luxurious mansion. Not only do they take huge amounts of cash & drugs, they force Little Bo-Peep to blow them before leaving.

Near the end of the movie, the Se7en Dwarfs decide to have it out with the 3 Pigs. They get coked out of their heads, arm themselves to the teeth and head for the cop bar the Pigs hang out at and do a donkey-by shooting. From this point the movie deteriorates into one mother-fucker of a blood bath as Lilliputians, Hobbits & Sleepy Hollow Darkies begin choosing sides in the drug war and battle it out.

One scene that may be taken out so kids won't be too weirded out involves a cluster-fuck at the home of the Wicked Witch of The West. It shows Samwise Gamgee blowing Shrek.

Warning-This movie will be rated as PG18 because of some pussy-shots and obscenities.

My blog for the day. Wasn't it brilliant?

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