"I DON'T DO NICE."

"I'd love to see what's behind those glasses."

"That will cost you extra."

"How much?"

"You can't afford it."

"How am I supposed to know if you don't tell me?"

"Trust me. You can't afford it."

"Well, alright then. As you wish."

"There. That's better. Now we can get down to business."

"I just thought it would be cool to be able to look into your eyes, that's all."

"You don't need to see my eyes to fuck me and I sure as shit ain't lettin' you stick your dick in my eyeballs."

"I just thought it would be nice."

"To fuck me in my eyeballs?"

"No, just to be able to look into your eyes, that's all."

"I don't do nice. You stick it in, you get off, you get out. The only nice part is you getting out."

"My, my. Aren't we Miss Sunshine?"

"Hey look asshole, are you going to pay me and get on with it or can I leave now?"

"I'm gonna pay you. Whatever you want, I'll pay. That's how I roll."

"Good, because you have already taken up enough of my time and if you don't pay me I will cut your balls off before I leave."

"I'd like to take your picture."

"Is that it?"

"Not even close."

"That'll cost you extra."

"Well, I want to take your picture."

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful."

"Whatever."

"Seriously, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

"Fuck you. You can't even see my eyes. How do you know I'm not some hideous freak bitch who just wants to fuck you to death and steal your money and your soul?"

"I tried to get you to take 'em off."

"We've been through this already."

"Goddamn, you're beautiful when you're angry. You know, I'll bet that when you're happy you are just beautiful squared."

"I'm never happy."

"Doesn't matter then. You're still beautiful."

"So you've said.... without saying or doing much else."

"I got a feeling about you."

"What feeling do you got about me?"

"That you're fake. All this.... the tough girl thing.... it's just an act."

"Fuck you."

"You said that already."

"I'll say it again until you pay me. Fuck you."

"I told you I'm gonna pay you."

"Well, the sooner that you pay me the sooner you can fuck me instead of me standing here and saying fuck you."

"Maybe I like the company."

"Fuck off."

"Ohhhh, we're off and running now."

"We're not anything yet and if you don't give me my money I am going to cut off your balls and leave you screaming in a pool of your own blood."

"You're beautiful."

"Jesus, enough already."

"Seriously, do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?"

"Seriously, do you have any idea how close you are to having me cut your balls off?"

"A small price to pay just so that I can see what is underneath those shades."

"Why do you want me to take my glasses off so much? Is it really so important for you to look in my eyes? Not much to see there anyway."

"I think you should let me be the judge of that."

"But, why?"

"Because you're-"

"If you fucking tell me that I'm beautiful again so help me, I will squeeze your balls until the juice runs down your legs."

"Alright, I got nothing else to say then."

(silence)

"Take off your glasses."

"I told you-"

"I can afford it. Take off your glasses. I just want to see your whole face. You're too beautiful to be obscured by those tinted windows."

"But if you can't see me then how the hell do you do know?"

"Just part of that feeling I got."

"Eight hundred."

"I thought you were gonna say a thousand."

"Okay, a thousand then."

"Done. Paid in full."

"That is just for me taking off the glasses. Whatever else you have in mind is gonna cost extra. I'll make it hurt too."

"Oh, you are so speaking my language."

"Well, my hearing seems to be getting better because the greener you get the more it sounds like you are speaking mine."

"Here is another thousand. Consider it a token of my appreciation for healthy language speaking skills. There will be even more to come if I think you're worth it. I got that feeling though and my feelings are as golden as a shower on a horny day."

"You're a freak."

"I know. I'm a freak and you're beautiful. I'm rich and you're not. We were made for each other. Now take the money and then take the glasses off."

"Pay and ye shall receive."

"I have and I will. Now, take the fucking glasses off."

"That is not very nice."

"You don't do nice, remember?"

*****This is a re-working of a piece from the Girl Wood blog page. I'm not sure where this came from except that I wanted to do something entirely composed of dialogue and this was what came out. Since the last post was a dialogue challenge I am guessing this was a sort of bastard child from that challenge. However, since this was posted on the Girl Wood page there really is no telling. That page was an experimental page where I wrote things from a womans point of view. It was a lot of fun from a writers angle to be so experimental but some of the things I posted there caused some controversy. I kind of miss that, but then I kind of don't. Still, it was fun at one time. The post date of the original version was 6/23/2010*****

DOG DAYS AND POKER NIGHTS

"Alright, so who's in? Spike? Reds?"

"In."

"In."

"How about you, Dooby?"

"Uhhhhhh.... yeah.... yeah.... lemme see.... well.... uhhhhh.... no.... no.... no. I'm out. Hey, you gotta light?"

"Over on the coffee table. Its dog proof though. There's some matches in the kitchen. While you're at it bring in a couple of bowls will ya? I got some liver bites I want you guys to try. So good they'll make you bust rocket fuel."

"Alright bets to you, Rags."

"Yeah, I spot."

"Huh? Huh? What? What?"

"No, dumbass I said I spot you guys. Chill out. Drink a beer or sum't'n."

"Is it my turn?"

"Yeah it's your turn Spot. Spot or fold?"

"I spot. Yeah yeah. Spot. That's me. I'm in.... and I'll raise you six bones."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"Hey grab me a beer will ya?"

"What kind?"

"What do we got?"

"We got Red dog.... aaaaaand.... Red dog."

"Sounds good. Red dog it is then."

"Comin' right up."

"Have you guys heard about what happened to the alley brothers?"

"The Siamese bastards?"

"Correct you are, sir. Those would be the bastards in question."

"I tumbled with one of them before. Mean son of a bitch. Took everything I had to walk away from that one. Can't imagine having to take on two of them. Heard lots of stories about some dogs that weren't so lucky."

"Well, they won't be troubling no dog no how no more."

"Really? What happened?"

"Bubba took 'em both out."

"Bubba? That old rottweiler I see soaking his sac in the fire hydrant all the time?"

"Yep. He was over there beggin' for some duck strips from that old guy that runs the Chinese restaurant and here these two Siamese shitheads come rolling up on him trying to get in on his action."

"I hate Siamese, dog. I hate all cats, obviously. But them Siamese are the lowest of the low. Scum of the earth I tell ya."

"Well, Bubba took 'em both by their pointy little ears and he smashed their heads together. Their heads got stuck on each other. The bones of one got caught up on the bones of the other and their heads wouldn't come apart. They was walking around hissing and clawing at people. Heard it looked like a big one headed cat freak with two bodies."

"Niiiiiiice. What happened to 'em after that?"

"Old China man beat 'em down with a broom. Now he has 'em do stupid cat tricks on stage while people are eating their sum yung chow."

"Fuckin' Siamese. I hate fuckin' Siamese."

"You and me both and every other dog in the world, my friend."

"Good old Bubba. That saggy nut motherfucker. A toast!"

"YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH A TOAST!"

"To Bubba."

"TO BUBBA."

"Turn up the music, will ya? I love this song. Marvin really gets me goin'."

"Well, if that is the case why don't you just get your ass goin' on into the bedroom there and be sure to grab a few towels on the way so you can clean up after you're done. I told the master bader I'd have the place lookin' top shelf when him and the fam get home tonight."

"Hey, does that kid still fart and blame it on you?"

"Yeah. Little prick. I got his number. Next time he has his friends over I'm gonna take a dump in front of his bedroom door and then start howling. They all come running out and it's howdy doody time."

"Genius!"

"Hey, did you guys see that new bitch over on Beagle street?"

"Nooooooooo.... new bitch? When?"

"Saw her a few days ago.... and guess what?"

"You didn't?"

"Yep. Sure did."

"Noooooooo."

"Damn right I did."

"What? What? What?"

"Did she let you smell it?"

"More than that. I licked it."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"I did I did. She let me. Told me I was cute. Next thing ya know we was like jack rabbits."

"You are so full of shit, Rex."

"I shit you not my friend. Me and her.... we had a genuine thing going on. She said she was new to the ave.... well, she ain't so new anymore. I broke her in, see?"

"You asshole. Couldn't wait for her to come around and sniff out any of the rest of us."

"Hey, what can I say? I'm a stud. She let me lick it and that is not all."

"What? What?"

"I took her out back of Rodmans for a little of the old soil and spoil if ya know what I'm sayin'?"

"AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

"You did not. You are so full of shit."

"Hey, there's no shit inside of me pal. You see that big pile on the corner of the paper over there? That is mine. So I'm clean and you're up."

"Oh oh oh. Yeah. Let's see. I call the six bones and I raise you four clams."

"Heyyyyyyyyyy!"

"What's a matter, Rexi? You can't get it up 'cuz you gotta save up them clams for your new girlfriend?"

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. That bitch is old news for me. You guys can have her. I got me a new bitch."

"Who you got new?"

"Old new rather."

"What? You mean Daisy Duke?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Motherfucker, I know you like the back of my paw. You can't stay away from her. Nobody can. She's been around the block.... around the world.... if it's around she's been there and then some."

"You're just jealous."

"No reason for that. I just hit it right before we got here."

"You did not?"

"Wanna smell my paw?"

"You are so full of shit."

"Nope. I ain't that either. After I hit it she let me go right on the paper. Took a picture of it with my phone. Wanna see?"

"That don't mean nothin'. Every house dog has to use the paper. You could have taken that anywhere."

"Yeah, I could have. But I didn't. I got some mutt shots too."

"You mongrel bastard!"

"Hey! Hey! Now them's fightin' words in this house, Rexi boy."

"Will you guys shut up and just play?"

"Yeah, nobody cares about either of you hitting Daisy Duke. We all hit that bitch. More than once might I add."

"Yeah yeah. You're right. Bros before hoes?"

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH. BROS BEFORE HOES."

 "Hey! Where is Beansy?"

"Oh, he had to get a ride again. His old lady didn't want him drinking and driving tonight so she offered to drop him off and then pick him up."

"So, what you are saying is.... that Beansy ain't gonna make it tonight then?"

"No, no, no.... he said he would be here. But you know how that old lady of his can be."

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH."

"We know we know. That's why we said he ain't coming."

"Hey, it's getting late you think we should call him and see when he'll be here?"

"I told you guys, if that crazy old lady of his is driving him he ain't coming."

"Hey, gimme the phone. I'll call his house."

"Reds if Beansys old lady is driving him here I don't think you should call his house."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Reds. Who we talkin' 'bout here? You remember when she drove us all to the dog park that one and only time?"

"Yeah, you're right. I'll get the phone book and call the coroner. They might need some of his friends to come and identify the body."

*****Scribbles writing challenge. An all dialogue challenge. Original post date 3/13/2012*****

THE ADVENTURES OF HUGO HITLER

Hugo Hitler-

Hellboy-

Heretic-

Hustler.

Happily Hoping Hazardous Health Hindering Horrors- 

How Hard He Hasn't Hypothesized Heaps-   

However His Harmony Hinges Hungrily Humans Have Heartache.

Hardship Herald's Hoopla Hardly Handicapping His Happy Hour.

Havoc Hardening His High Hopes Herculean.

Homicidal Humour Heals His Hibernating Hate Harvest.

Hullabaloo Heat Hypnotizes Him Horny.
      
"Hoo-Hah!" Hark's Heroic Heathen-

Hilarity Heaving His Head-

Hijacking Horizon-

Hysterically Heavenward-

Hunting Holocaust.


*****


Hugo Hitler sat in a chair that barely housed his bulbous ass cheeks outside of a cafe in the city of Stinkcheese, France.

His companion, a hermaphrodite who only goes by the name of Shim, spit shis cheese from both mouth and nose at Hugo's story because Hugo Hitler is just too damn funny for an out of work and out of bounds, has been heretic, hustling Hellboy. Shim began coughing and the air smelled like dick cheese for scant seconds prior to being whisked away by that stink of Francais dew day. Shim took a drink of frog broth to kill the aftertaste and agony. In the mouth was left a tasty skid mark on shis tongue but the trail exiting the nostrils burned like widlfire.

The cafe was not exactly well attended on this foggy morning. A morning that smelled an awful lot like an angry bowel. The morning dew more so resembled morning doo doo and this made Hugo ecstatic because he loves the stench of fresh fecal matter in the morning. Especially when it belongs to someone else. Sharing is caring and being on the receiving end of such warmth made his nipples poke through his pigskin vest.

There was a single coffee whore named Wretchen servicing the customers. At this very moment the patron sum would consist of only Hugo, Shim and some man who was taking advantage of the early to rise newly morning yum yum horny happy hour as Wretchen banged her head into the bottom of the table quite enthusiastically as to insure a healthy tip. Hugo and Shim licked their lips as they stared and laughed. Once their laughter died down the man a few tables over grunted and presumably shot a load that was tainted with super powers because Wretchen backflipped from between his groin, busted the table in half and her carcass that was now soaked with her own blood and superhero spooge landed in the middle of the street.

The man was indeed a superhero as could be deduced when he threw off his whacking coat, turned it inside out and changed it into a cape and then flew off into the crusted morning stink having been orally satisfied and not even asked to pay for his latte. This made Hugo laugh even louder but he noticed that Shim was all laughed out and that greatly disturbed him. Shim spit an enormous glob of phlegm from shis mouth and then resumed drinking what was left of shis frog broth despite that it was mostly backwash and there was no longer a coffee whore to satisfy shis thirsty needs.

There was far too much silence now as the coffee whore named Wretchen lay dead in the streets and her lifeless corpse somehow made Hugo realize that his life had been rather uneventful as of late and that in running out of adventures he was also running out of stories to enchant his public with. The look on shims face seemed to suggest shehe knew this as well from shis mind reading talents and now Hugo was pissed off.

"I know what you are thinking, Shim," he grumbled.

Shim smiled before cramming a phallic shaped nugget of cheese into shis mouth and tried desperately not to gag from shis deep throating antics. Only after swallowing did shehe speak.

"And what would that be, Hugo my dahling?" This was followed with an open wide grin to confirm shis mouth was now empty though happily coated with cheese wiz.

"You would like me to stir shit up again like spoon in an ass cavity."

Shim began hopping up and down in shis chair and clapping like a sexy seal. Then shehe began to finger shiself.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh that's right! Talk me baby talk me. Say more say more!"

Shim appeared to be on the verge of shis orgasmic cataclysm but since the dining area was so desolate nobody was able to be offended or join in. Thus Hugo continued to voice his plans loudly over Shims moaning.

"Once I penetrated the rim of Heavens anus. There, it was good good indeed. Though I was only acting on behalf of the Hitler legacy in response to my impotent brother, this time will be different."

Shim stopped masterbaiting only long enough for a single sentence.

"Bro was noodle laggon?" This was spoken to pinky finger held high in wiggle mode before resuming play.

This got a laugh from Hugo because since he and Adolf bathed together at an early age and then later had shared fun holes he knew this to be true. Then his smile was so sharp that it curved his entire face like a question mark despite there being no question as to what he must do.

Before their conversation could go any further Hugo and Shim were interrupted by a man wearing a cowboy outfit.

"Excuse me there pardners," the cowboy looked at Shim writhing in the chair and tipped his hat,"sorry to disturb you but are either of you going to fuck that nice looking corpse over there in the street?"

Both waved their hands and smirked at each other. The cowboy placed his thumbs in his belt belt buckle and galloped eagerly into the street.

Shim leaned in to Hugo and whispered.

"Those cowboy necrophiliacs are so Charlie Bronson in Red sun."

This drew laughs from them both.

"Where was I? Ah yes, I shall bring Hell to high plains and then I rain down the pain. Bring the corn to shit country. For me this time and not that lame brained genetic mutation I call baby brother."

Shim had finished fingering shiself and was now smoking Chesterfields from each nostril so that shehe would be able to speak if need be.

"Your brother was a visionary. That must suck to have to follow his act."

Hugo slammed his fist so hard onto the table that all the other tables in the dining area toppled over as his table inched into the concrete, driven by his brutish penis envy.

"My brother was eunich! It was I wanted to squash the entire universe like big weird bug. He was pussy with this one race at a time nonsense. I wanted to be like supersize menu and go big. His lack of testicular momentum caused him to not only think small but act it."

"So what are you saying? You mean like the holocaust was some kind of blueprint?"

"Blueprints.... juprints. I will execute them all this time. This turd called human beans will just bean imprints in the dead sand. The blood of my enemies shall color the dead sea like shit stains on a short bus seat."

Shim lit up two more Chesterfields and stuck them in each nostril again. The vague expression on shis face suggested that shehe was unimpressed but Hugo rolled out anger like a flopping titty.

"My brother is shame to my genetic diarrhea! He only wanted me to charm him into Heaven so that he could build a nightclub."

Shim perked up from being slumped in his seat.

"Oooooooooooooo was that the Hummina Hummina Hut?"

Hugo groaned.

"You have heard of it?" He asked.

"Of course! Andy Warhol blogged about it from the afterlife. Your brother is an s-t-a-r star!"

"My brother is a nutless peasant! He had me waste charms in thinking that he was going to bust shit up and all he did was open up a dead pussy factory! I am the meat and potatoes of the Hitler family chow line. Who rebuilt the city of Sodom and relocated it to downtown Hades?"

"You did, my filthiness," Shim replied in a tone void of enthusiasm.

"And who took all the residents of Angel city and sent them to anal beach for back door barbecue during bed Spring breaks?"

Shim began rolling shis eyes knowing full on where this was going.

Only greeted by Shims silence and slurping noises coming from the cowboy and the dead coffee whore named Wretchen in the street Hugo continued.

"Who delivered the dirty nuns in a box car to the Jesus ranch?"

"That was you. Again again." Shim was teetering on boredom.

"No more Hugo nice guy! I shall use my hard on for heresy and my anal vapors to cloud destitution from the Heavens to Harlem. From Watts to West Port and Egypt to bean dip. I shall claim the universe and all that is above and beyond as my own. Meanwhile wiping that smirk from Gods face and lighting fires to his ass hair."

"You forget something mein fry hair," Shim moaned with dryness.

Hugo bugged out Marty Feldman eyes and quivered his lip like Elvis in a pharmaceutical segueway.

"What?"

"You have been to Heaven already. You jammed the portal for baby bro. Remember?"

Hugo looked on annoyed.

"Come again?"

Shim waved shis hand and laughed.

"I couldn't even if I had an extra hand Hugo dahling. But, do you just think they are gonna be unprepared for your weenie ass and let you march right in like you own the place?"

"I have that covered you hanging hog testicle and I will own that place! I won't stop there either. I have an angle. A friend with an advantage."

 Shim beamed like a spotlight and rattled like a maraca filled with anal beads.

"Tell me more tell me more, like who is this friend? Tell me more tell me more, is this really the end?"

"George Burns...... and yes."

Shim felt pavement against shis bottom lip as shis entire lower jaw cavity smacked onto the ground.

"Are you kidding me? The old guy?"

"They have a cloud bar in Heaven named after him. He shows up on occasion to tell shitty jokes that tortured souls are forced to laugh at out of pity and save for grace and their place in sweet Heavenly estate. Those fucking prickholes! He studied God closely for his roles in those shitty movies in the 70's. I don't think there is a better candidate. Besides I bribed him with box of Dutch ass masters cigars."

Both stopped and stared at the cowboy having his way with Wretchen's corpse in front of them.

"He really is just like Charlie Bronson," Shim said,"but I did think he was gonna take his hat off."

Both sat there watching the cowboy make sloppy dead coffee whore love to Wretchen's corpse which had now found itself bent backwards due to the cowboys overactive enthusiasm. He mounted the lower portion of her carcass and began to hump it like a rock star.

Shim poured the final drop of frog broth from shis cup and made a hmph noise.

"Hugo dahling I am growing bored of this amateurish porn fest. I have many musician friends brandishing both organs waiting at my palace for a little cunnilingus concerto and sodomaniac showcase. Would it be possible for you to use a little bit of your charm and get that coffee whore to come back from the dead and get me one more frog juice for the road?"

Hugo smiled and clapped his hands together eighteen times. Three times in successions of six times each ....or six-six-six.

He pointed at the street and laughed.

"Watch this, my friend."

The corpse of Wretchen began to bend itself upwards from the pavement and in doing so clutched the cowboys manhood in the rotted fuck hole between her legs. Her legs crunched together and when she moved off to the side the cowboy screamed as his sex shooter was ripped from his body. A spray of gore as if shot from a garden hose erupted from his groin and he fell to the ground drenched in both blood and tears. As the cowboy whose days as a necrophiliac were surely over because he had no dick rolled around in the street and screamed like a bitch the zombie coffee whore named Wretchen approached the table with re-ups on their previous order without Hugo having to tell her what they were having. It was most impressive because both Shim and Hugo had no idea that zombies had such good memories.

Hugo raised his glass of urine to meet Shims frog broth.

"A toast. To when I am finished with this glass of girl pee and I can go and take over the Heavens," he downed about half the glass,"and then the rest of the world."

Shim toasted and drank shis fetid beverage. Shehe put the glass back onto the table and nodded at the still bleeding and screaming cowboy in the street who was now in the path of an oncoming rv.

"I better get going Hugo dahling before that cowboy is sprayed all over the dining area and I have to change my shirt."

Hugo raised his index and middle fingers to his skull as if they were a pistol.

"Happy trails, my hermaphroditic friend."

As Shim had predicted the rv hit the cowboy and pulverized his screaming like a pussy ass bitch into next week. Shim had already walked away and was laughing, leaving shis words trailing behind as Hugo plotted his domination covered in wanna-be necrophiliac cowboy gore.

"He sure ain't no Charles Bronson."


*****This was culled from 2 different pieces from 2 different writing challenges. The first part was from an old scribbles challenge, dated 8/8/2011, which was to compose something based around a single letter beginning every sentence. I think there is a name for that sort of thing but I don't know what it is. This was my first, and last, time trying this. The story that follows was from another challenge. The one me and Pastormike used to do. His theme was heathenism. I had already done the other piece so the subject of Hugo Hitler was a no brainer. Since the story is a direct continuation from the events that transpired in the first part I decided to put them both together here and make one piece from what once was two. The original post date on the story part was 8/25/2012*****

 

FRUITCAKE AND THE FREEZING MOON

The night was so cold that even the moon was frozen.

The sleigh rode into a blackened abyss of sky, powered by the dreams of children both good and evil. Oh yeah, and a flask of that atomic eggnog that I snagged from the Christmas party inside of the family meatlocker. Never mind that I just might have had way too much of the firey elixir flowing freely through my veins right now. It was cool though. I washed it all down with a healthy grabbing of fruitcake to help with soaking up the suds. Yummy fruitcake. Handpicked from the most rotten berries of the greenhouse that was Westward adjacent to casa de Claus. Rotten. Just the way I like it.

A gust of wind blasted me in the face and I was temporarily thrown off balance. Had to keep it together. So many toys and assorted rubbish to be delivered tonight. But rest all ye merry nuts by the fire for neither wind nor being slightly shit-faced can  hold me back from performing my task.

The events of the evening leading up to this moment behind me now, all I wanted to do at this point was hand out some goodies and garbage and head back to the party before it starts to break up. I am a party animal. The quintessential party beast in fact. Hopefully Mrs. Claus wouldn't frighten off most of the guests with her lewdness and extroverted behavior. Earlier this year she had started to experience the change of life. It had been hell for all of those around her. Not for me though. Hell might be a woman going through menopause, but Hell is my hometown.

Mrs. Claus used to be such a timid specimen of womanhood. A kindly old doll of a lady whose biggest quirk was that perfume she would always wear that smelled like old lady pee. Ew dew toilet. You could smell her coming a mile away sometimes. Now she had taken up to dancing on tables and fornicating with all the hired help. She had been seen riding elves and according to some of the neighborhood riff raff,  who claimed they had heard this from Rudolph himself one night at the local pub, she had even got it on with Rudolph in the stable. She was a Butterworth by blood, and those women are into some freaky shit if rumor serves correct.

Once Mrs. Claus began her descent into her menopausal state of depravity, things had become awkward around the North Pole. Particularly in the toy factory where all the elves worked furiously to satisfy the demand of prepubescent dictatorship. It seems that Mrs. Claus would have one too many of her elfin trysts and before long they were all fighting over her. They went on strike, but through sexual favors handed out on iou's, she had single handedly managed to disperse the maelstrom and save Christmas for everyone. Her goodie basket got her into this mess, and I'll be damned if it didn't get her out of it too.

Things seemed to be looking for the better in the Claus household. Mrs. C. still wrapped her legs around anything that had a pulse. If Rudolph was to be believed she was the quite the bestiality enthusiast, though it was interesting to note that she does apparently draw the line at necrophilia. Even a Butterworth has standards it would appear. But the atmosphere was festive and Christmas would be most happening this year. Cut to the Christmas party-

Santa Claus gets piss drunk and passes out right before he is supposed to hop on the sleigh and begin his global excursion to little girls and boys everywhere. He was always a lightweight and could never quite handle his liquor. That is where I came in. I have rode bitch before and I knew his route and the routine and so of course guess who gets asked to do sleigh duty?  Yup. Me.

I had given some thought to maybe turning things up a notch or two. How do you think people would like it if I reversed the natural order of things?  Give all the best toys to all the most horrid little monster children. Then, give all the good girls and boys lumps of coal in their stockings and boxes wrapped and filled with garbage. That is what one might come to expect when you have Satan Claus mainlining the deliveries for the holiday. No worries though. He might be a drunk who can't domesticate his concubine, but he is still my brother and this is his gig and I won't mess it up for him.

Lets see now..... first on the list we have little Timmy. Ahhh, he set the teachers hair on fire. Good good. Nice boy. Oh wait a minute.... no, no... bad bad.... uhhh.... yeah.... bad Timmy. We don't set people on fire. Unless you're me. Then it's what is expected of you because after all, I am the god of Hell fire and ruler of Hades.

 There is little Timmys house right there.

"On Masher! On Basher! On Stupid and Blitzkrieg! Take me in for a landing. I see they have a GREAT BIG CHIMNEY and this fruitcake is working its way South. A Merry Christmas to all indeed."

*****Scribbles writing challenge. Original post date 12/21/2010*****

THE TALE OF GHETTO CLAUS

*****This is another result of a scribbles writing challenge producing 2 stories. The challenge was to do a Christmas story. I wrote "Fruitcake and the freezing moon" and posted it on 12/21/2010. The next day I felt the urge to write something completely different and this came out. Anybody familiar with my work knows that I tend to be somewhat over the top. My stories are bizarre and often times quite dark and violent. My roots though are in poetry and I have been known to turn out stuff that has a very large heart beating inside of it. When I started doing short stories my tales always seemed to end up going someplace very dark and nasty. This was one of the first I did that went in the opposite direction. I was quite proud of it when I wrote it, but had no idea what to do with it. I knew that if I had posted this on my old blog site few people would read it because it is pretty long. So, as happens so many times, I sat it aside and forgot about it. I did actually post it on the Girl Wood blog page and left it out there for a week or so. It got like 2 views and I ended up closing it up. A side note, there are some different versions of this story floating around. I put it on facebook once and sent it to a few people. Those versions had some glitches in it that I ended up fixing. This is the final and, in my opinion, best version so far. I started another story and have the outlines for a couple of others. Gene Hines will return..... and so will Ghetto Claus.*****







Christmas in the Ghetto. The favorite time of year for many. Children are playing in the streets, which if they're lucky enough, have been blanketed with a creamy layer of fluffy white frosting. A White Christmas. Who wants that? Lots of people, but not me. Once you go black you never go back. I heard that once and I must say that I whole-heartedly agree since that night after my third AA meeting. The night that would change my life and the way that I looked at Christmas forever.


At that point it had been three times standing in front of a room full of strangers and saying "Hi, my name is Gene and I'm an Alcoholic", and while it wasn't exactly overkill yet , I sure had grown sick and tired of doing it.


The meeting was over and I was walking to my car. A Hyundai. Hey, don't laugh. Ever since I tricked it out the babes have been falling all over me. Although maybe it was because of the time my picture was in the paper after I won the lottery. Before you get too excited and start calling your people to help find my people know that I don't have much of that money anymore. The women that come sniffing around don't seem to know that though.


A mans car is like the mechanical embodiment of his cock and I do have a nice one. You'd be surprised the reaction my Hyundai gets from these hookers when I open up the door for them. Oh, and whoever said that chivalry was dead was mis-informed. It's making a mad comeback these days. Just ask any female with blonde hair, blue eyes and big tits who lives or frequents down around 185th Street. I'm a big deal there. But that is another story.


So, where was I? Oh yeah, AA ....my car ....that night. Yeah, right ....sorry, I get loopy sometimes. All those years on the sauce made me kind of scatter-brained.


It was about 9:30 on Christmas Eve. At first I wondered why they would bother having one of these things on this night of all nights. But as the walking dead began to file through the door and fuse into their seats, the answer hit me like a drunken bum in a barfight. Christmas and all of its affiliated surroundings are about family and togetherness, and nobody in this room tonight has a trace of either one of these two things in their miserable excuse for a life. Any family that we have ever had would be chased away by the demon that erupted from within our souls after being doused with liquified venom.


So, while the rest of the free world gathers amongst themselves amidst a tree ripped from its rooted domain and passes boxes around the room to people that are otherwise ignored the remaining days on the calendar exempting birthdays and other recognized holidays ...here we sat ....the dregs of humanity. The wished we could just be forgotten altogether crew. Cast out as a result of the actions of the demons that plague us and forever immortalized in scorn by these actions.


I remember walking to my car and hearing a lot of commotion from a nearby alley. My primary objectives and social reserve usually entails, but is not limited to, wanting to get home and mix up a demonized cocktail or simply not giving a fuck about who or what goes on around me. Maybe the Christmas eve spirit had infected me at that moment. Okay, no .... I had to take a mean piss and this alley looked as good a place as any in which to do it. I wasn't going to let any ruckus going on prevent me from relieving myself.


I headed into the mouth of the crevice in the buildings on the block and before I could eye me out a a pile of rubble to shower with my lizard juice, I saw a group rocking that unequivocal manly swagger in what looked to be a massive gang ritual. A fight, maybe? This time of night and in this spot it was doubtful to be a hugging exercise of any kind.


The closer I became to the fracas, it appeared these men were beating the shit out of somebody. This just begged for being close, so even closer I got.


Wait a minute now ....Was that? .... What the?-


These men were not beating up anybody. They were-


Dancing?!


..... And the man at the center of it all .... was not just a man .... he was in a Santa Claus outfit. Obviously not the real Santa Claus because .... well, everybody knows that Santa Claus is not black.





The man dressed as Santa Claus was playing the saxophone in the center of the group of men, and these men were all dancing.





What did I just stumble onto? The whole scene looked like a commercial for Popeyes, except for the fact that all of the dancing men were white, and white people don't eat at Popeyes. They/we can't dance either and my own eyes were confirming this right at the very moment.


My back teeth were floating and once I realized that I wasn't going to figure out what has happening here unless I jumped in the middle, I shrugged my shoulders and pissed all over a clump of rotten tomatoes laying at my feet. As the splash of my urine met with the ground, a hush fell over the crowd of men as they all stopped and glared at me. Gee, sorry about that. I had no idea that me taking a leak would disrupt the festive atmosphere.


The man in the Santa Claus suit gave me a befuddled look and he shooed off the disappointed crew. As I zipped up my pants, he made his way over to me. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, and frankly began to wonder if I wouldn't have been better off trying to hold in my hot burst of human waste for the required five blocks until I hit the old homestead.


My skepticism would find itself relieved just like my happy bladder as soon as he began chuckling and held up his right hand.


"You will forgive me if I don't shake ya' hand, but I sure am glad to see yo' ass."


I whirled around and stood face to face with the man. God, he was ugly.





"It Looked like you were having quite a time there with your ....uhh ....were those guys friends of yours?" I asked.


He looked greatly amused.


"Aww Hell naw! Thems was just some honkies I saw when I was making a delivery over 'round yonder 'dat co'nar right 'da, " he motioned to the edge of the alley.


He apparently ceased to care that I had just been holding my dick in my hand and held out his own.

"Claus, baby. Santa. Esquire. At yo' service."


I gave him a smirk and I could see that he knew I figured him to be completely batshit crazy.


"If you are Santa Claus than I am the tooth fairy."


He laughed even harder.


"Well then, twinkle twinkle biaaaaatch!"


I had already grown bored and turned toward the street.


"Well, its been nice gabbing with ya Santa bla ...I mean, Claus ....you must be busy. After all, it is Christmas eve. I'll just leave you to your ...uhhh....duties then."


He slapped his side and burst a profanity laced rebuttal.





"Aw now mutha' fucka wha' choo mean yule lea' me ta' ma' duties then?!"


He reached into his pockets and pulled out some kind of identification card and began waving it around in my face.


"I'm Santa Claus Go' damnit! You best recognize or yo' kids get a lump a coal in da' stockins."

I had heard enough of this. I had some drinking to do back at the tomb that I pay rent and utilities on each month and this asshole was just holding me up.


"Well, alright then ....it was nice meeting you Santa. My wife got the kids and moved midwest couple a' years ago. If you can figure out which house is hers then coal it shall be. Good night."


I began to walk away and his voice took on a somber tone. Not to mention he lost the Ghetto accent somehow briefly.


"Gene Hines. Apartment 3-D. 157th Street. Wife Sharon. Moved to Kansas. Wichita to be exact.

Took the kids. Jessie and Grady. 7 and 10 respectively."


I stopped dead in my tracks. Who was this nutjob? Better question would be, how did he know who I was?


"Who are you? You just come from the meeting?" That seemed to be the only logical explanation, despite the anonymity factor at those things.


He shrugged my question off and started putting his id card back into his pocket.


"I wasn't at no meetin'. I'm Santa Claus mutha'fucka'. I already told yo' ass. I been to' yo' house already. You ain't get sheeeit 'dis year. Same as last year. I ain't been to the midwest yet. It ain't even 10 o' clock."


Okay, this guy was seriously getting on my nerves.


"WHO-THE-FUCK....ARE YOU?!"


He wasn't buying my tough act.


"Look, man ....I already told you ....I'm Santa Claus. You don't believe me, 'dats yo' ass. But I am Santa Claus and you think you the only mutha'fucka wit' problems you is dead wrong."


I decided to play his game. It's certainly got to work a whole lot better than standing around here in the freezing cold all night going back and forth with some wacko in a clown suit.


"Okay, well ...." I began before he cut me off.


"I can do 'dat."


I was confused.


"You don't even know what I was going to say."


He laughed again.


"Mutha' fucka' I am way ahead of you. You want proof. I said I can do 'dat. Close yo' eyes."


"Look man, seriously ...okay ...you're Santa Claus. Great. Now-"


"Mutha' fucka' I wasn't born yesterday! You don't believe a word I'm saying and I'm gonna shut yo' cracka' ass up! Now, close yo' eyes Go' damnit!"


What the hell. If he tried to mug me, he wasn't going to get much of anything. I stood up straight and closed my eyes as tight as I could.


"There. Ya happy, Santa?"


"I'm doin' a'ight and you gon' be one sorry mutha'fucka you don't take 'dat sarcasm out yo' voice."


"Okay, okay..." I tried to sound convincing, "I'm cool. You're cool. We're like two little Fonzies here."


"A' ight 'den. Now ....free yo' mind ....and yo' ass will follow."


I somehow managed to push all irritation and anxiety from my cravings for the sauce away from my head and within a split second of blank thought I was sitting in a GREAT BIG CADILLAC next to-


Holy shit! What the-?!


There, overtop of the city was me and-


Okay, seriously ....I need a drink really bad because the whole thing felt so real. I must be hallucinating. I was riding shotgun with Ghetto Claus and we were flying over the city. He was pointing at the streets below.


"You 'gon come fly wit' me. I'm a' take yo' ass to see yo' childlens. I know you ain't seen them since they was taken by 'dat bitch ass ho' of yours."


Wait a minute now. What did he just say? He is going to take me-


"You are gonna take me to see Grady and Jessie? Right now?"


He chuckled at what he must have thought was reluctance but was actually something far worse that had me about two seconds away from punching him in his jaw.


"Damn rite! You got some kind of mu'fuckn' appointment and shit?"


This had to stop right now. I tried to open my eyes, but I felt hands placed over my face.


"You can not open yo' eyes until I say so. You got 'dat?"


I actually didn't get it at all. It would appear that my body was standing still in that alley, and yet inside of my mind I was now flying over a bunch of cornfields. It couldn't be. There just was no way that this could be happening.


"A' ight 'den. We is headin' on in. Grab yo' sef sum shit."


With those words, I felt a rush of motion and a blast of wind hit my face and worked its way down my form. He was right. We were going right in towards a house. Where the-?


Was this the place that Sharon had bought with the money that she felt she was entitled to from that stupid lotto ticket?

I guess this house was as good as any though for my kids. Except that I wasn't there to be their father.
Although Sharon wouldn't think physical presence to matter much on account of I was not exactly all that great of a father when I had the luxury of being in the next room from them both. It wasn't my fault. The demon alcohol did it all. Yes,I touched the buttons. But the drink pulled the strings. Try explaining that to small children and an angry wife. What had he just called her? Bitch ass ho. Yeah, that sounded about right. I think I'll remember that one the next time she tries to prevent me from seeing my kids that I now missed even more terribly than ever. Don't know what you have until its gone indeed. But it wasn't gone. Somehow I found myself right here-


The Cadillac skidded atop the roof of the house and parked right next to the chimney. I simply could not believe what I was seeing with my eyes still closed in that dark alley.


Ghetto Claus turned to me and spoke softly and actually quite earnestly.





"A' ight, I got sum shit to do. You 'gon hav' 'ta chill in the ride and 'den we 'gon take ca'r bidness. You dig?"


I sat there for what appeared to be only a matter of seconds and felt a tapping on my shoulder. I looked up and saw him standing overtop of me with a gleam in his eyes.


"Now mutha'fucka ....you bring yo' ass rite he'." He pulled me up by my collar and dragged me over the side of the house. The next thing I knew we were floating in front of a window. I felt the air beneath my feet and thought it best to not look down and with that I was able to take in the sight that was laid right before my own eyes ....or mind ....I still haven't figured out which.


I gazed into a window and saw a young girl kneeling at her bed. I couldn't believe it. It was Jessie. She had her hands clasped together and was looking towards the ceiling. She was praying.





I felt as if I wanted to cry tears of joy but they would surely have become frozen to my face, so it was just as well. Instead I just marveled at what I was seeing. Her beautiful brown hair billowed down around her shoulders. She gets that hair from me. I began to gloat with intense pride all of a sudden over something so simple as a genetic pigmentation. That was my little girl.


Ghetto Claus placed his hands on my shoulders and spoke.


"Now peep 'dis shit 'rite here...." he said, as he motioned towards the bedroom.


As if the magic of this moment and location would not be enough, I felt a lucid sensation emit from the glass and as plain as the sound of white doves flapping their wings, I heard in my daughters voice her prayer.


"God please bless daddy. Wherever he is."


Tears began to roar from my eyes and streak down my face. I no longer cared whether my eyeballs would be frozen over with a glazed layer formed of equal parts regret and rejuvenation. Jessie would always be my little angel girl from Heaven. But at that very moment I knew this wasn't an unrequited sentiment. I had to see Grady.

I turned around to see Ghetto Claus shaking his head and going "Mm-Mm-Mm. Yo' ass feels dum now don't it?"


"How is this possible? Who are you really?"


He glared at me with a most shocking scrutiny before he huffed and exploded.


"Is you ignant or just completely out yo' mind foo'?! I told you ....I'm Santa Claus mutha' fucka'. I took you to see yo' kids ...I even showed you my id! Whats a nigga' got to do to show you he is legit? Oh, I'm a black man ....you's want me to rob you or some shit? Yesa' Masa' I's pick that cotton fo' you real good. Woulds you please hook a brother up with some kool-aid and some watermelon?!"





He looked upwards toward the roof and the cadillac and shook his head.


"Hey man, fuck you! I'm out 'dis bitch! Yo' ass can walk back to New Yoke."


All of a sudden it hit me like a rack of ribs. This dude was as real as it got. I had spent my whole life shoving aside those that were genuine and reaching for artificial comfort. It was time to look at my life head on and get real, and this moment ....tangible or abstract ....that little girl up there that came from my seed still including me in her prayers after all that I put her and her brother through ....that was real. This ...was my life. I could continue to push it all away....flush it down the toilet.... or I could wake up every day and give thanks that I have two beautiful kids who still love me-


All of a sudden I heard a jarring sound almost like a needle scratching across a record and Ghetto Claus piped up.


"Slow down there foo'. You might have two kids but only one 'dem shits recognizes yo' ass."


I was confused. Was he able to see into my mind and know what I was thinking?


"What do you mean?"


He hocked a golfball sized chunk of phlegm into the cold air and laughed.


" 'Dat' rite da'," he pointed towards Jessies window," she is a daddys girl. Always gon' be. You said two kids that loves you-"


I cut him off because this really was too weird.


"I didn't say anything. I was thinking it. You reading my mind now too?"


He laughed and retorted.


"Mutha' fucka' I knows ever'a'thang. I'm Santa Claus. I sees mutha' fuckas when de's sleepin. I knows when you is up, down, left, right, whateva. You doin' it ....done did it ....gon' do it ....or even thinkin' 'bout it ....I knows 'dat shit! You can't pull nuttin' on me! I'm like yo' moms. Rememba' when you snuck that cup a' old Milwaukee when you was a little man?"


This was insane. How could he have known that? I hadn't even thought of that for ages until right now when he just said it. This guy was on something. Either that, or I was. As he kept talking I began to realize that indeed I was on something. I was higher than I had ever been. On life. My life, and he knew more about my own life than I did.


He shook his head and laughed again.


"I know alls about you Gene Hines. Sheeit nigga' yous crazy. Ole' Milwaukee. Nobody drinks that shit except old fools."


He was right. I had swiped a helping of it from my Uncle Harry when my parents had him over for some darts one night. Everybody used to make fun of him for drinking that geezer piss. I didn't care though. It was all that I needed back then to get me started on my lifelong love affair with the drink. I had never told anybody about that on account of I was somewhat ashamed of my introductory beverage of choice. All of the cooler kids back then were dipping into their parents liquor cabinets. Vodka. Gin. Rum. Tommy Radclif had somehow managed to get ahold of a bottle of moonshine when he was eleven. Some people say that stuff fucked up his mind.


I knew still even more kids who would cop cans of warm Budweiser from coolers at family cookouts. Me? I had snuck a cup of Old Milwaukee. Not exactly one of my proudest achievements. But one that nonetheless had an effect on the way that I turned out. Just like my dad. I had always tried to swipe one of his bottles of Yukon Jack, but he always kept them locked up in the liquor cabinet. Thank God for small favors. That shit probably would have rotted me out by the time I was 14 had I been able to get a hold of it.


I was beginning to feel foolish for doubting my new friend here. He was obviously on the level. How else could I explain all the stuff that he knew? Not to mention that I was standing suspended outside of my kids window on Christmas eve. Then it hit me what he had said. My kids! What about Grady?

Before I could even say it out loud he somberly intoned to me his response to my thoughts.


"Don't feel bad, bru.' Dat ho of yours has turned him into the biggest mamas boy there ever could be. It's cool. He'll come 'round after some big kids from the neighborhood get in 'dat ass o' his and you wind up teaching him how to fight. You'll be a hero, my man. Bitch still gon' take yo' ass to 'da cleaners over some dum backpay 'do. But you will clean yo' ass up and you will get to see 'dem kids.' Dat is yo' shit rite 'da."


This guy was incredible. He knew it all. I might have doubted him earlier on. But of this I was sure ....my life was going to turn out just fine. Ghetto Claus knew it and now, most importantly, I knew it.

"I got to get yo' ass back to the city. I got shit to do. Lets get back to the ride."


He snapped his fingers and next thing I knew we were back over the city in the Cadillac. I looked into the backseat and couldn't believe my eyes. How could I had missed all of those toys before? This guy was loaded down and ready to hand out some serious shit.


"So, tell me ...." I spoke into the wind that hit us in the face, "Why does everybody seem to think that Santa Claus is white?"


He erupted into fits of laughter.


"Sheeit, it's just more of the white mans highjacking of a black mans world. Elvis ....Santa Claus ....you dig what I'm sayin'?"


I dug.


"So, do you really live at the North Pole?"


"Foo' you is out yo' mind! I live in Watts. 103rd Street. East side."


"Wow, you came a long way."


He shot me with a look that would cause an old white man behind the register in a liquor store to empty out and hand over the till and the safe behind the stack of wine bottles.


I gave up to any rejection that would fill the air hours ago and I laughed at my good fortune in meeting Santa Claus. The real Santa Claus.


I was guessing that I would never get the chance to learn some of these things ever again, so immediately my mind was flooded with questions.


"So, what do you do for the rest of the year?"


He kicked back in his seat and smiled.


"I'm just like any ya'll. I like me a good buzz ....some fine wine ....Mad dog, Cisco ....the classics. I smoke some blunts with my friend Snoop-"





"No shit? You're friends with Snoop Dogg?"


"Hell ye-ya! D-O-double G baby. That is my main man!"


This was too cool. I would never be able to look at Snoop Dogg ever again without thinking about Santa Claus.


I shifted in my seat at the sudden revelation that jolted me.


"I won't be doing any of that sort of thing anymore. I need to get ready for the rest of my life. I wanna actually remember what I do and see where I go with a clear head and heart."


He smiled.


" 'Dats cool baby. I was gon' axe you if yous wanna stop off here in Pittsburgh on my way back to Nyc for some blunts and bells, but 'dats cool. You got your thang man. I'm on 'dat. I'm happy fo' ya. It's been a rough year for me too. I am glad to help a brotha' out."


"Rough how so? What happened?" This sounded to be interesting.


"Aw man, I been through some bugged out shit! My elves went on strike. My man Rudolph took off on my ass and was at sum joint talking shit. Mrs. Claus got the old lady vapors...."


I was already confused. Rudolph? Was that-?


"Rudolph? The old lady vapors?"


He laughed at my bewildered expression.


"You white people call 'dat shit menopause. But ain't no pause about it. When a sista' gets the vapors homeboys best get the fuck out 'da way! Oh, and Rudolph .....he is my main nigga'. Was... until he rolled out on me."


Just as he said all of this I was reminded of something that I had been meaning to ask him all night.

"Hey, who were all of those guys back there in the alley? What was that all about?"


"Oh shit! Them cracka's is crazy! They saw me going in a window 'round the co'ner. I seen this fine ass white girl dreaming about some sugar plums or sum shit and I thought I'd drop in on her ass and give her a taste of 'dat dark magic. A little old Saint Dick if you know what I'm sayin. The night would not be complete if I didn't pay a visit to some of 'dem naughty girls. I just love me some naughty ass white girls."





This guy was too funny. He provided me with the single most eye opening and beautifully sentimental epiphany of my existence and here he was talking about sneaking in a young white girls window and darkening her horizons. Oh well, as long as it wasn't my daughter or my ex-wife. Although, maybe that bitch whore Sharon could use some-


Eh, never mind. I just listened to him tell the tale of his night as we headed back into the city.


"So there I am standing in this ho's winda' and I hear 'dese mutha'fuckas yelling about nigga' 'dis and mu'fucka' dat ....I had to think fast. I could have laid 'dem asses out like shit if I wasn't so ....holiday-esque. So, I decided to have me some fun and see some white boys dance around like dum asses 'dey is. You people can not dance I'm tellin' ya in case you is unaware."


I did have to laugh at this.


"Yeah, yeah, I know."


"I was startin' to get bored until yo' ass shown up. I figured if anybody could shove these crackas off it should be one of theys own."


I felt another intense gust of wind whip up and he yelled for me to close my eyes and hang on.

With a split second of motion, I heard him quietly tell me to open my eyes.


I couldn't believe it. I looked around to see that we were both standing back in the dark alley that we had just seemed to have met in only-


I looked at my watch. What time was it?


Before I could see what time it was I heard my new friend speak up.


"Aw man, yeah ....sorry 'bout 'da watch. Time and space thang ya dig? I like to think that what I gave yo' ass tonight was mo' betta' than a piece of tin."


I looked at my watch to see that the hands were bent inwards and it had completely stopped. He was right. Tonight ....what I had seen ....experienced .....was indeed priceless. I would be eternally grateful to this man.

I was tired from a night well spent and should probably get home. I did feel like I should say something though.


"Hey ....Ghet- Uhh .....Santa Claus ....thank you."


He shrugged my words off, though he was visibly moved by them. Then, I saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a small package.


"I got a full house tonight and I don't have much leftover. But here ...." He reached his hand out.

I looked down. He was handing me a pack of Lifesavers.


"Whats this for?" I asked.


He shook his head.


"Its nuttin' at all, my man. I just know that you white people seem to dig lifesavers a whole lot."

JESUS PHILBIN AND THE OPRAH CHRIST

*****Another story that resulted from a writing challenge. As well, another challenge dedicated to one of my favorite writers. This time it was James Newman. I took a bunch of his book titles and used them in a story.*****



The woods were dark and cold and thus provided the perfect forum for rituals of olden. The heart of winter was beating furiously in efforts to keep away anyone stupid enough to be out in the freezing temperatures on this night. The coven would have it in their good faith that no one would care to venture into the woods even should they be drawn by screaming or flame and so the events which soon would unfold could stay buried deep within the now wilted and quivering caverns of shrubbery.

People are strange but the people of Devils Dork are downright wicked. Their animosity, though it could certainly be forced indoors by midnight rain, tonight crowded the clearing where a pentagram was painted in the diarrhea of its members and outlined the area where a sacrifice would soon be made in the name of Lord Philbin because he was really pissed off. Lord Philbin was the successor to the great Lord Bosomzebub and though many did not necessarily agree with all of his decisions made in the name of the church and township few had the nerve to speak up until Stedman moved there from the filthy city of Dungstown.

Stedman vocally opposed Lord Philbin as often as possible and this had earned him the label of trouble making fucknut and a special place in Lord Philbin's blackened heart. This would be a place so special that Stedman now found himself bare assed naked and spread eagle in the clearing with shrinkage. As much as Stedman loathed shrinkage this would soon be the least of his worries as he was only moments away from having a tree limb blessed by the repugnant one himself shoved into his anal cavity repeatedly before the coven of dirty bitches and bastard sons would drown him in their fecal discharge as they sang Black Sabbath songs backwards in the cold and crusty night air. The club of evil assholes (or the C.E.A. as they are known to many on the B.F.I.'s most warted list) had really wanted to burn Stedman's doo dads with fire because it is dope as fuck but the shrinkage prevented them from actually seeing them and so they were unable to be identified accurately. 

"Looks like another evening of Sabbath and poo," groaned one of the devil mongers.

As the demonic role call sounded off there was unwelcomed movement in the near distance. A 70's style porno bush cloaked she who can not be named but is sometimes referred to as O. She was a merciless mercenary and former presidential running mate of Walid Ali Muhammad Shazbot Abdul Wooly Bully Hama Rama Shing Shawnk. Shrinkage or not, Stedman was her man and nobody was gonna tie up O's man and shove a tree limb into his ass unless it was her. She loaded her glock and pulled out a vial filled with army ants infected with the RAIDS virus and she smiled because it was now getting started like a revenge flick. Oh yeah, shit was going down and not just on Stedman's face. O stepped from behind the 70's style porno bush and pointed her glock at Lord Philbin.

"Alright motherfucker, get your hands off my man or else I'm 'a' pop a cap in all ya'll monkey asses."

Lord Philbin let loose with demonic laughter and pointed to the skies.

"Come, my feathered fiends. Meet our guest."

O looked up and saw a pack of wild geese erupt from the branches of the tree overhead.

Lord Philbin grabbed his sac and his face curled up like a butt cheek.

"I think you will find my flying goose pimples tainted with Cherpes will foil your plans, girlfriend."

O started blasting all around and then pulled out the vial with the RAIDS virus infected army ants in it before holstering her little friend.

"I ain't your girlfriend," she pointed to Stedman," that right there is my man and we are getting out of this biaaaatch."

She covered her face with a pair of her old grannie panties from when her ass looked like a love seat and she dumped the army ants and the virus into the air. This time it was O who let forth demonic laughter because now shit was about to get real.

*****To be continued*****

INCARNATIONS: FORMS OF HEAVEN AND HELL

*****This was a story I threw together as part of a writing challenge. I took titles, quotes and assorted bits from Clive Barker books and movies and arranged them into something. If you are in fact a fan of Clive Barker you no doubt will recognize the bits. If not, then you won't. Still, I am proud of the way this came out.*****



"Everything is true. God's an Astronaut. Oz is Over the Rainbow, and Midian is where the monsters live."

But at this very moment, somewhere in the Imajica, it was twilight at the towers on Jerusalem street. Tortured souls and dread all filled Coldheart Canyon at the Damnation Game. A halftime extravaganza put on by Mr. Maximillian Bacchus and his traveling circus had celebrated the inhuman condition for a great and secret show in these days of magic, nights of war. But no more teasing. It was time to play.

Scape-goats dressed in the skins of the fathers as if there were new murders in the rue morgue. Absolute midnight was approaching and it would sound like the midnight meat train were singing pig blood blues to human remains. Everyone's favorite duo of destruction, the yattering and Jack were up against Rawhead Rex, who was also known as the son of celluloid. Much like the hellbound heart versus the thief of always or the body politic in the flesh.... and the loser would be crowned Mister B. Gone. Such was how spoilers bleed.

The Madonna delivered her scarlet gospels as read from the book of blood at the Hell's event. A sacrament heralding both the life of death and the age of desire. Revelations seemed to be the last illusion. Babel's children released their Hellraiser pleas in the forbidden tongues like confessions of a pornographers shroud. Weaveworld shall now come undone.

In the hills,the cities echoed sex,death and starshine. The blood thirsty cabal licked what might have tasted like eternity but had crusted onto their once cracked lips. The throng amassed below the throne of Baphomet. Immacolata, Peloquin, Kissoon, Pie 'Oh' Pah .... even Cal Mooney was in attendance, though he kept out of site. He had been given the night off due to a string of victories and had planned to party well. The night was long and it was only going to become legendary as so many awaited their turn in the ring. An everville of foes to battle until death of some sort. There sat Jakabok Botch who would soon go up against Mamoulian, the last European. But first, from the center ring, a cry rang out.

"Down, Satan!"

Rawhead Rex gnashed it's teeth in anticipation of meat for the beast. Yattering and Jack only laughed as if to say "we'll tear your soul apart." 

As the lights splashed, then flooded the arena, the crowd roared as if they were themselves blasting from a cannon. It was then that the night drew blood and the man called Decker stood outside behind a kiosk hawking damnation disguised as solace. He walked up to a young demon in a pea suit and his words joined all other legends past, present and future.

"What's your pleasure, sir?"