A Collection of Trash From Over the Years

I'm embarrassed of it all

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The Robot Boyfriend


"My sensors indicate that you are being a massive bitch right now," Robo-Mitch revealed.

Sarah slapped him. He felt no pain, because he was a robot.

"I'll show you 'bitch!'" she screamed, and kicked him hard in the groin. She broke her shin.

"LMAO. You can't harm me now that I've transplanted my brain into this robot body. I'm fucking invincible!" Robo-Mitch laughed, and turned back to his TV, continuing to play Ignore-Your-Girlfriend 5 on his Playstation VR, where he was doing the exact same thing in-game as he was in real life.

"Wow, so realistic!" he exclaimed.

"If you're going to keep ignoring me, maybe we should just break up," Sarah said tearfully.

Robo-Mitch knew she was bluffing. Sure they fought, but their love was stronger than the diamond ring he refused to buy her.

He gestured toward the doorway, still facing the TV.

"It was nice knowin' ya babe :3 " he said.

"You asshole!" she yelled and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

On the way out of the apartment, she almost tripped over the present he'd left for her. She opened it and gagged. In the box, was his heart. No longer necessary in his robot-body, and the perfect token of his adoration for her.

"Fucking gross," she laughed, and read the card that'd been taped to the box.

It read,

"My dearest Sarah,

You know you'll always have my heart LOL.

Love, Robo-Mitch"


She knew beyond the grotesque joke it was true. Sure, he'd been addicted to that stupid video game for a few days, but besides his stupid obsession with obscure indie video games, he'd been a great boyfriend. Strong, caring, always there when she needed him for the last 3 years now. Her only real problem with him was that he refused to stop calling himself Robo-Mitch.

But after he put his brain inside a robot body, those few weeks ago, something about him changed. Something besides literally everything composing his physical body. His attitude had changed. He'd become more ambitious, more daring. He told her he'd been planning to propose to her. But in his new robot-eyes, the diamond he'd picked out for her didn't seem enough. He wanted to give her something better than "a stupid stone with poor resell-value." But what exactly he was planning he refused to tell her until he had it.

Back Up

A Christmas Spook


Victor Gonzales rose from the grave.

It was his favorite time of year: the Christ-mass.

He rattled his bones and walked from the Kekville Graveyard toward the nearest house.

He was about to knock on the door when he heard a ruckus from behind him.

Turning around, he saw the biggest, baddest looking gang of Elf-ruffians he'd ever seen. They all looked like Legolas from Lord of the Rings except they were wearing Christmas-elf clothes with those stupid green hats.

They were all pointing bows at him and the leader walked forward.

"You cannot celebrate Christmas, skeleton. It is a holiday for humans," said the Elf King.

Victor laughed in his face.

"Christmas is my favorite holiday, elfman. No one's going to stop me from partaking in the celebration."

He punched the elf so hard in the face that he shot backwards like a rocket, knocking all the other elf downs like bowling pins.

As the elves fumbled around like idiots in the snow, Victor turned back and kicked the door down.

The nice peaceful family looked up from their living room couch and screamed in horror at the skeleton barging into their house.


He then waggled his fingers to make the sign for his Kidnap Family-Jutsu and the house was surrounded in bones. It was now a bone fortress.

"Your house is now my bone-fortress," explained Victor, rattling his bones and laughing.

"What do you want with us?!" shouted the Dad, shielding his tiny daughter.

"I want to make your Christmas special," said Victor, "Please call me Santa Bones."

Then he tore one of the branches off their Christmas tree and fashioned a green beard for himself.

"Give me a hat," he said.

The Mom got up and went to the hat-rack that was directly next to Santa Bones who could have easily just gotten one himself, and she handed him an appropriate beanie.

"Not that one," he said, slapping it out of her hand and making a spooky face.

She offered him up a baseball cap.

"Yes, that will be my hat!" he said proudly.

He picked up the Mom and she shrieked as he tossed her back on to the couch with the family.

On the outside, the Elves were desperately picking at the Bone Fortress with their holiday shovels.

"They'll never get inside!" he laughed and he around. The family looked on in terror from the couch.

He looked at them seriously.

"I need to know your wishes immediately," he said, and sat down next to them.

"Please don't kill us," said the Mom.

"Kill you?" laughed Santa Bones, his merry pine needle beard shedding all over, "I'm not going to kill you, idiots. I'm going to make this the best Christmas you could have ever hoped for!"

Then he karate-chopped the couch in half and threw it against the wall.

"Now watch this!" he said, and he pulled a lighter out from his bones and lit the couch on fire.

The couch burned.

"What's happening?" asked the little girl.

"Santa Bones is helping us celebrate sweetie," explained the dad, holding her tightly as he watched the Christmas skeleton dance around their burning couch.

"I'm scared," she cried.

Santa Bones turned to her angrily.

"YOU DON'T BE SCARED ON CHRISTMAS MORN, CHILD" he shouted, causing her to cry. He just kept screaming at her thoughlol.

"THIS IS A TIME FOR CELEBRATION, GET UP AND DANCE WITH ME, COME ON!" he pulled her away from the dad and forced her to dance with him around the flaming couch as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"I can't breathe-" protested the Mom, because the house was filling up with smoke.

"No it's okay," explained Santa Bones, "I don't need to breathe."

"Oh..." the Mom surrendered, holding her husband tight. She accepted that this was surely the end of them.

But the Elves finally broke into the Bone Fortress, letting in a rush of sweet cold Christmas air.

"SKELETON!" roared the Elf King, "Your celebration has come to an end! Surrender now, or we will be forced to take you down."

Santa Bones released the little girl and stared at him briefly before swiftly raising his bony hand, summoning the bones to reclose the hole in the fortress.

"NOT YET!" he roared.

Santa Bones knew that if he was to make this the best Christmas ever, he'd have to take it up a notch, and fast.


The Dad said, "Let us go please."

Santa Bones pointed at the Mom, "AND YOU?"

"Please let us go," said the Mom.

Santa Bones kneeled down to face the little girl.

"And you, child?" he asked gently.

"I want my mom and dad" she cried.

Santa Bones smiled, and threw her back on to the couch into her parents' loving embrace.

He reached into the bones of the Bone Fortress and pulled out a bag.

"Since you can't decide on something realistic, I'm deciding your presents for you," he announced, pulling out three packages wrapped in bone-themed wrapping paper.

He handed one to each of them.

"Now promise you won't open them until I leave," he said, wagging his finger bone at them.

"We promise" said the Dad in relief, sensing an end to their nightmare.

"Good," said Santa Bones, taking off  his beard and turning the baseball cap backwards.

"I'm no longer Santa Bones, please call me Victor."

"Fine." said the Dad.

"Okay, I'm gonna get going, Merry Christmas!" said Victor, and he ended the Kidnap-Jutsu and all the bones clacked to the ground. The Elves were waiting outside.

"Are you done Skeleton?" the Elf King asked, tired.

"Yes, this was an okay Christmas," said Victor, and he walked past them back toward the cemetery.

He looked back.

"Thanks for sharing your home with me, humans. Spook ya later."

The ground swallowed him up. The Elves shrugged and walked off. The Elf King left his insurance information for the damages. He was supposed to keep the holiday-crazed skeletons at bay. He'd failed in his responsibility, but was happy that no-one was harmed besides himself, his nose being broken from Victor's punch.

The family opened their presents.

For the Dad, a shiny harmonica.

for the Mom, a neat bottle of hand sanitizer.

for the little girl, there was the very lighter Santa Bones had used to set their couch on fire. She smiled.

They were all happy with their gifts and would never forget the joy that Santa Bones didn't bring them that cold Christmas morn.

The End

Back Up

A Haunting in Jersey


The fear struck me instantly; my stomach tightened and my vision blurred. I lost my balance and stumbled backward onto the couch.

"What do you mean you're haunted?" I asked her.

She sat down next to me and repeated herself. The disembodied voice I’d heard a minute ago say “he looks like a punk bitch” belonged to who she called “just some asshole ghost”. She explained that a year ago, the ghost would terrify her at night; slamming on doors, throwing anything not nailed down against the walls.

She’d tried burning incense, sage, splashing holy water all around the apartment. She tried staying with her parents; it just followed her. But one night, a line was crossed when she’d felt her ass pinched, and she instinctively threw a backhand behind her-- somehow making contact with her assailant. The first words she’d ever heard from the ghost were “Ow, fuck”. The story very quickly stopped being scary.

From that point on, he cut the stereotypical spook shtick, and would act as nothing more than an incorporeal jerkoff roommate; leaving lights and the TV on, doing something with her food to make it disappear-- certainly not eating it; and apparently, he really liked to “talk a lot of shit.”

She avoided meeting my eyes as she was speaking but when she finished she looked up at me, trying to read my mind. No chance, I didn’t even know what I was thinking myself. I closed my eyes and reached out to hold her hand.

After a few quiet moments on the outside, while I still was desperately trying to organize my thoughts inside my head, I opened my eyes and looked back at her.

“So, what are we going to do?” I asked, “Have you seen like, a priest or something?”

She nodded and frowned.

“I did, but he told me there was nothing he could do,” she said, “Because the spirit isn’t Evil, he’s just kind of a prick.”

She started to grin, and it forced me to smile with her.

“So, what then?” I asked.

She shrugged and laid down on top of me.

“I’ve just kind of gotten used to him.”

She kissed me and I held her head against my chest.

“Do you still love me?” she asked cutely, already knowing.

My answer was interrupted.

“Of course I d--”

Hey,” came a voice from the other side of the room, “You’re both gross, stop it.

Back Up

Mud Man


"I am a mud man," said the Mud Man, whose name will only be capitalized once.

"Okay, what can I do for you?" asked the store clerk.

"I need something to help me with mud," he moaned.

"What are you trying to do with mud?" the clerk asked.

"I need help with it," he repeated, impatiently.

The clerk knew this was going to be difficult, so she lifted her shirt up, grabbing under her bra, and flashed the Mud Man her bare breasts.

"WHOAAAA" he moaned, and fainted.

When the mud man awoke, he was tied to a chair. The clerk was there.

"My name is Karen, and I'm a grocer," she said, "And if you don't tell me what you're trying to do with mud, I'm going to cut you into pieces and no one will ever know because you're made out of mud.

The mud man tried to scream, but a sock was inside his mud mouth.

Karen took a baseball bat, and slammed his mud knee with it.

Mud man moaned in pain.

She removed the sock and he confessed.

"I'm not  really a mud man, I'm a man covered in mud," he admitted.

Karen took a bucket of water and splashed him with it, revealing a man who actually WAS made of mud.

"I LIED," he laughed, "I'M MADE OUT OF MUD, BABY."

And then he broke free from the chair and stormed out of the room, back into the store. He grabbed a bottle of sun tan lotion and scanned it by himself.

"2 dollars and forsssometimes it's better to just not write anything at all than to write a story about a mud man visiting a convenience store. Maybe some day I'll actually get my shit together and be able to sit down and actually write something worth reading,


" the mudman said to himself as he sighed and looked over at Karen. Beautiful sleeping Karen, his wife, supporting a failed writer who was also a mud man. What a joke his life was. She deserved better, as hard as he tried to be a good man. He knew he made her happy though, and as long as she was happy, he could keep on in spite of his own disappointment in himself.

Mudman took a cigarette from the bedside table and stepped outside. The air was cold and uncaring of the concerns of a man made out of mud. He shivered a little as he lit up and thought about how he'd gotten here.

He thought in particular about that day in high school when he'd first met Karen; him a foreign mud-exchange student, her the president of the Science Club with an interest in how a man could be made out of mud and somehow talk and walk like an actual human.

And Ricky Chang, the bully who almost stole her from him.

Ricky fucking Chang.

To be continued.

Back Up



"This land is my home!" cried the proud warrior Bee.

"It's trash. You're trash," said Beehater.

The noble buzzer buzzed fiercely in defiance.

"Grrrr NO! NO NO NO NO NO! WE ARE BEES. We will sting you if you insult us again!"

The Beehater pointed at him and laughed, and did a dance with a little swirl. He knew Bees hated dancing. So he danced, and he danced.

"This cannot be allowed, my husband," said the Bee Queen to her strong, virile buzzband.

"I know what I must do, my love. But if I sting him, surely I will get my stinger caught inside him, and die."

"We cannot let our children grow up in fear of the Beehater and his dancing."

The Bee kissed his Queen.

"I am not afraid of death."

The Bee was preparing to sting the shitting hell out of the Beehater, when suddenly another man jumped into the scene.

"I am the Beekeeper, why are you harassing my bees?" he questioned, angrily.

The Beehater stopped his dancing momentarily to focus his attention at this new threat, that was his own size.

"I hate bees!" he shouted, "their buzzing is annoying and their hives look like garbage."

"I know you," said the Beekeeper, "You're Donovan Chambers, the head of the homeowners association."

The Beehater smirked and tapped his foot to a rhythm.

"That's right-taptap.

And if you knooow what's good for you- taptap

You and your bees will back up and leave town, forever-taptap."

The Beekeeper didn't budge.

"You drive a hard bargain, Beehater," he said, but then he threw off his coat, and revealed his stinger.

"IT CAN'T BEE!" cried Donovan Chambers aka the Beehater.

"YES. I've grown a stinger! And unlike my bee friends, I will not die if you sting you!"

The beekeeper started wagging his butt in the direction of the Beehater.

"NO PLEASE, I'M SORRY!" cried the Beehater.

"It's too late for sorries! I demand you surrender your position to someone who deserves it!" yelled the Beekeeper, moving closer and closer.

"No! No! Please! You can have my job!"


The Queen nodded her head and smiled, holding her Bee-husband's hand.

"Our land is safe, my love. The god Beekamende has intervened. Our children will buzz loud and strong for many generations, surely."

The Beehater ran away until he collapsed from exhaustion and died.

This run is today known as the Marathon.

Back Up

A Wedding for a Demon


The demon appeared in a sudden surge of fire in the center of the circle. Small goat-like horns protruded from the sides of an otherwise human face- the face of a young, hairless woman, and with the exception of vicious-looking claws instead of hands, a woman's body to match.

The summoner spoke "Hi, I'm Jeremy."

The demon responded "Hey Jeremy, I'm Quealeeg-- oh fuck."


"Great, real fucking great."

"Okay, so I know your name now, so I can order you to do anything."

"Yeah, I know how it works, jackass."

"Look, I just need you to go to a wedding for me," pleaded Jeremy.

"I don't have shape-shifting powers, bro, how do you expect me to do that?"

Jeremy paused and thought.

"Could you kill the bride?"

"Yeah, but then you'd have a funeral to go to," answered Que.

"Jesus Christ these things are like perfect social traps," sighed Jeremy.

"Why don't you just suck it up, banish me, and go to the stupid wedding?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said the young man who'd just summoned a demon in order to get out of going to a wedding, "There's got to be a way out of this."

Que lied down in her circle and yawned.

"I order you to help me think of a way to get out of this," said Jeremy.

Que stood up and screamed "GOD DAMN IT."

The attic shook from the fury in her voice, but Jeremy wasn't concerned. She was totally confined to the circle he'd carefully painted in his own blood. She might want to eat his head, but unless he stuck it in her cage, he was totally safe.

"So, what do you think?"

"If I kill you, you won't have to go," she hissed.

"Real fuckin' cute."

Que rubbed her temples and sat down. She'd had a headache before even being summoned. And now she was trapped until God-knows-when, because she'd been dumb enough to let her summoner know her name.

"Weddings are difficult to get out of," she said, "Even with a demon at your disposal."

"Could you kill the priest?" asked Jeremy.

"Probably not. I couldn't even get inside the church to touch him. Outside the church, he'd sense me a mile away. The oldest, fattest priest is like a Jedi against my kind," she admitted.

It was a story she'd never share, but the last time Que had tried to tussle with a priest, he had choke-slammed her through a communion table.

"So what good are you?" sighed Jeremy.

"I really could just kill you if you wanted," pleaded Que.

"I'd almost prefer that than go to this fucking wedding," said Jeremy.

His focus shifted.

"So what kind of powers do you have at your disposal?"

Que listed them with her fingers.

"Well, I can run really fast. Uhh, super-strength, possession, invisibility--"

Jeremy interrupted her, "Possession, you say?"

"I wasn't done," protested Que.

"Could you possess the bride and have her call off the wedding?"

"That's not a terrible idea," admitted Que, "And then you'll let me go?"

"Yeah, probably," said Jeremy.




Back Up

Captain Jacob and the Invaders


"AY! Captain! There be somethin' in the sky!" called young the lookout from the crow's nest of the Fuckin' Boat, a small privateer ship crewed by the most talented men Jacob Jacobs had ever known.

Captain Jacobs opened his telescope and peered into the sky. Indeed, there seemed to be a big effin' ship shaped like a stupid frisbee in the sky, flying the colors of Captain Alienschmo- the meanest sky-pirate to ever terrorize the entire planet.

"Listen men!" shouted Jacobs, "They mean to board us! Draw your swords and look out for their magic muskets!"

And then, twenty tiny grey aliens jumped out from the enemy ship, and started singing.


They continued singing as they engaged the human-pirates and the ship broke out in chaos as the aliens fired their big-ass laser guns, known to the men as "magic muskets", which disintegrated any person unfortunate enough to get hit by one.

But what the aliens hadn't anticipated was that Captain Jacobs had recruited these men because they were all experienced alien-hunters, wearing human costumes. With the speed that could only come from 8 legs, they ripped off their disguises and revealed their true forms-

giant spidermen, standing on 6 legs and dual-wielding maces with their other two.

"Oh fuckingg lord!" cried one of the aliens, and he shot himself in the face to escape the horror.

The aliens' gunshots were ineffective against the spidermen's armor, simply thudding against it weakly. The spidermen beat the ever-loving shit out of the remaining aliens, and took several prisoners, which they wrapped up in webs. Obviously.

"I'm such a fucking genius," laughed Captain Jacobs, and he shot at the alien ship with a grapnel gun, hooking into its side.

"Spidermen, keep an eye on our prisoners. I'm going to board their ship and see what booty I can tap."

The spiders hissed and nodded in acknowledgment.

Captain Jacobs had a huge fucking grin as he imagined what could be on the ship for him to loot, as the gun retracted and brought him up into the air to the alien pirate ship.

But suddenly, something struck him in his leg.

"Ow, fuck," he said, looking down.

It was an arrow.

He looked down at his ship. It was being boarded by fucking mermaids.

"Oh shit, son. The mermaids are working together with the alien-pirates?" he whispered.

He could only hope that his crew could hold them off without him, as he reached the alien ship and pulled himself on board.

Back Up



"I have to do this," Tim said.

I knew there was no point in reasoning with him. When Tim wanted to do something, Tim did it.

"Okay, well is there anything you want me to tell your wife?" I asked.

"Yes," Tim replied as he adjusted his gloves, "Tell her her husband died boxing an alligator."

Tim leaped over the gate into the enclosure and began punching down at the prehistoric monster- so well suited for its environment that it had barely evolved over millions of years. A near-perfect killing machine being repeatedly bopped on the head by a drunken monkey.

"I hate you, alligator!" Tim screamed, as he danced around the gator's head to avoid its massive jaws.

"Tim, I'm gonna get going, I don't want to watch you die," I announced, buttoning my coat and making for the zoo's exit.

That was the last time I ever saw Tim. I later found out that the alligator had grabbed his leg and pulled him into its pool, drowning him. The zoo staff found his remains the next day. I never told anyone that I'd been with him that night.

Sometimes I go to the zoo and see that same alligator. I'll reminisce with him. Or her. I don't really know if it's a male or female. Tim was an interesting guy. I wondered what the alligator thought of him before it bit his leg and brought him under the water.

I learned from the alligator keeper that it'd just been fed the previous night. So it likely only killed Tim out of annoyance. That's a shame, I guess. More than anything I regret not asking him why he hated alligators so much.

Back Up

Mutant Schmo



I opened the door and took a seat in the waiting area. The secretary looked over at me. She surely would have been kinder if I hadn't been naked.

"Excuse me sir, do you have any business here?"

I glared at her.

"Of course I do," I responded, "I'm here aren't I?"

"Who are you here to see?" she asked, beginning to dial 911.

I smirked.

"I'm here to see your boss and tell him what I think of him. If he hadn't been such a JERK to me, I wouldn't be here. And I tell you, the piece of my mind that I'm going to give him is going to flip his entire Universe on its head! I can't wait to see the look on his face when-"

"No, I don't think he's armed-"

"HEY, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?" I shouted, standing up.

The secretary pulled her window closed and locked the door to the office.

"This is fine, this is fine," I said, "I'll just WAIT HERE. I tell you, though. It's not going to be good for anyone here if I'm kept waiting long."

I threw one of the chairs against the window before I sat back down. I was a little annoyed.

Finally, after all these days, I'd be shouting in the face of my former boss. Johnathan Fucking Jones, that son of a bitch. He fired me when I told him that I had received super powers for my birthday. He was JEALOUS of me, so he fired me. After all the years I'd worked there. But now, now, I'd be getting the last laugh. I'd laugh right in his stupid face, and then do something super like pick him up with one arm, or disappear before his very eyes.



Several minutes passed before the door to the waiting room was opened by a police officer. Surprisingly, he didn't immediately point a gun at my face. It must have been my naked body, admittedly not especially intimidating. I wasn't particularly muscular, my dick wasn't especially impressive. I wouldn't have even though to go on this mission naked if the genie hadn't assured me that my powers were restrained by clothes.

In hindsight I wish that I had tested that claim before making a fool of myself.

"Sir, please turn and lift your hands, I'm placing you under arrest," the officer said.

I couldn't let him interrupt my sacred quest for satisfaction. I waved my hand, attempting to place him under a spell.

"You will turn and go," I assured him, "You will forget all about me."

The officer sighed and walked back out the door. I know now that mind-control is not my power, so I believe he had just had a long day.

After a minute of more waiting, I heard the door to the office unlock. The secretary walked back to her desk and opened the window.

"Sir, Mr. Jones will see you now. Please just don't do anything weird."

In my 15 minutes there, I'd scared off half a dozen potential clients with my nakedness. I assume Johnathan just wanted me to get out and didn't care how it was done.

"I'm not weird," I assured her, "I'm only naked so I can use my superpowers. In fact, after this is over, you'll forget this ever happened."

I waved my hand before her, believing my mind-trick to be real. Then, I grasped the doorknob to the office, took a deep breath, and swung the door open.

An ear-shattering blast sent me flying backwards into the wall, and after a few moments of loud ringing and blurred vision, I realized my first true superpower.


I winced up in pain. My eyes were watering, but when I put my hand to my chest, it was still there. It wasn't ripped to shreds by what I assumed to be a blast from a shotgun.

From around the corner, Mr. Jones appeared- I was right, with a shotgun. Standing tall but lanky at 6'5, he was, like me, entirely naked.

"Ahh, Joseph!" he roared, "So glad you could drop in today. Well, your last check's already in the mail, so why don't you get going now? Before I'm forced to kill you."

I got up to my feet, enraged.

"Why are you naked?" I demanded.

He spread his arms out and laughed.

"Because, Joseph. I knew you were telling the truth about the Power Genie- the mysterious woman who made it her mission to visit people on their birthdays and grant them fantastical powers. How could a story that crazy possibly be untrue? So on the night of Stacey's birthday, I sneaked into her house and kidnapped the Genie before it could grant her powers."

From the side, the secretary, who'd been paralyzed in shock from the sound of the gunshot, heard she'd been screwed out of a superpower birthday present, and raised her voice at her employer.

"You broke into my house and kidnapped a genie?" she asked, dumb struck.

"I did it for the good of the company, Stacey," explained Jones, "What good is a secretary with superpowers anyway?"

"You couldn't have like, waited until your own birthday?"

"No, Stacey. The powers end here. After I kill Joe here, I will be the only man in the world with superpowers. Imagine that from a business perspective, and you'll forgive me and realize that I'm completely right."

"I'm going home," Stacey replied, entirely done with it all.

She picked up her bag and squeezed past Jones, cringing as her leg brushed up against his. Out the door she went, muttering angrily under her breath.

"Now then, Joe, are you prepared to die?" Jones laughed, pointing the shotgun directly at my face.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Of course not," I answered as he pulled the trigger.

My head was slammed back into the wall painfully, but once again, there wasn't a scratch on me, or a hole in me.

"This is an issue," Jones said, expecting his useless weapon.

"Here, let me try," I said extending my hand.

"Nice try, Joe, but if I give you my gun, you'll just shoot me."

I attempted my Jedi mind-trick on him.

"You WILL give me that gun," I assured him.

"No, Joe, I won't," he insisted.

I understood then that I did not, in fact, have the power of mind-control. So I attempted to go the way of force, lunging at Jones and grabbing the shotgun. We both struggled pathetically and I knew neither of us had super-strength. I grabbed at his thinning hair and he released his grip on the gun. I pulled it from him and smashed him across his face with it. He fell to the ground and I pointed it at him, finger on the trigger.

"You're going to listen to me, Jones. You're going to listen to everything I have to say, and when it's over, you're going to apologize to me."

Defeated, Jones raised his hands.

"Fine, Joe, you win. What do you have to say to me?"

[to be continued]

Back Up

What It Means to Be Human


"You're not really a human, though," I informed the giant talking spider, stamping his passport with a [NOPE].

He was not pleased.

"Yeah, but I can talk. And I'm as tall as you."

I handed him back his passport.

"Yeah, and I really do think that's great and everything. But you have to be a human to have a passport. You're a giant talking spider. I don't even understand how you got that passport in the first place."

The spider started becoming irate.

"How am I supposed to travel to see my family?" he demanded.

"First of all, I definitely don't want to know that there's more of you out there somewhere. But secondly, this is really something that's beyond me. If you come back tomorrow before 2, you can see my supervisor. They'd be able to help you more than me."

The spider pointed a leg at my face.

"You know what you are? You're a bigot."

I was a little insulted.

"Look, sir, I'm sorry. It's not like I have anything against spiders. It's just that it's highly unusual for giant talking ones to get passports. If I approved you, I'd be jeopardizing not only my job, but probably national security somehow."

He looked shocked. I think.

"Are you saying spiders are terrorists?" he said loudly, looking around at the others in the office for support. Everyone avoided the gaze of his many eyes.

"Well, you do terrorize people," Sally from the next lane said to herself.

Thankfully, the spider didn't hear her.

"No, sir, I'm not saying that. Of course I'm not saying that. I'm saying that our government does have prejudices, and I'm merely looking out for myself. I'm sorry, but you'll have to come back to resolve this."

The spider took off in a huff.

"Fuckin' webheads," muttered Sally.

"Sally, don't be ignorant."

To be continued...

Back Up

Get Out of My Head


There's a man inside my head and he won't leave. He mocks me and laughs at me. And there's nothing I can do.

I beg him to leave.

But he just keeps reminding me that he's won the school science fair 3 years in a row and my giant model of a head won't stand a chance against his study of the effects that shit talking has on competitors.

I fucking hate you, Kevin.

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My Girlfriend is an Indescribable Eldritch Horror


I asked her,

"Honey, where do you want to go to eat tonight?"

She answered me in such a way that made my brain spasm and my vision blur. I couldn't even begin to comprehend what I was hearing. Her answer-- at least I've always assumed it was a her. Her physical presence defies all logic and explanation but I have to believe that her not vibrating my brain into jelly must be a sign of romantic interest-- it stunned me in a way that she had not normally done, despite every waking and sleeping moment with her forcing me to hopelessly attempt to reconcile my previous perception of reality with the fact that I laid in bed with something so horrible that there are no words in any language I've studied that can hope to begin to describe it.

She wanted to go to Applebee's.

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"Um, what the fuck is this?" she asked, gingerly picking it up from my desk.

I turned around to see what she was annoying me about.

"It's an eyeball," I explained, before turning back to the television.

My answer did not satisfy her.

"Why do you have an eyeball on your desk?"

"Because I don't have a lot of shelf space."

"It's not even in a jar or anything."

"I'm not wasting a jar on holding an eyeball, that's disgusting."

"Then why is it on your desk!"

I turned off the television because I knew she wasn't going to stop talking over my program. I'd just have to try again later.

"It's on my desk because I don't want to waste a container on it. It's an eyeball. It's full of germs. I can still use my desk when it has an eyeball on it, but I can't use a jar for anything else if it's already holding an eyeball."

Still not good enough.

"But WHY do you even have an eyeball! Where did it come from?" she demanded.

I popped out my robotic eye and held it out to her. She fainted.

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Charlie Parliament and the Blood Gem and also I am drunk


Detective Charlie Parliament was in no mood for games.

"I'm in no mood for games," Detective Charlie Parliament growled as he slammed his fists down on the table. "You expect me to believe there's some magical 'blood gem' that was stolen from you by the Russian mob, who are actually vampires?"

His client, a tall sexy brunette with all of the right proportions that a fat-shaming shitlord like Charlie Parliament would appreciate, stepped back in surprise of his sudden outburst.

"Yes sir," she crooned. "You see, a Russian Vampire broke into my house and-"

SUDDENLY, a Russian Vampire kicked down the door of Charlie's Private Detective Office, and hissed in Russian, which is just like regular hissing.

Charlie Parliament, with lightning-fast reflexes, drew his pistol from his side-holster, and filled the Russian Vampire full of lead.

"Oh lordy oh my!" exclaimed the client, who also had a name that was, I don't know, Sandra? "How brave you are, Mr. Parliament!"

"That's Detective Parliament, ma'am," he replied coolly. "Now my only question is, if the Vampire Russians already have the blood gem, why are they still after you?"

"It's because I alone have the power to stop them now that they have it!" she explained. "I can nullify the magic in the stone, turning it into just a gross solid hunk of blood."

"Listen toots, I don't know nothin' about no magic. What I do know is that I hate Russians, and all other people coming into my country, unwelcome. Blacks, Hispanics, those damn drunken Irish."

Charlie Parliament is racist. It's a character flaw and everyone has them.

so Charlie Parliament and Sandra hustled over to the Russian Mob hideout, and peeked inside a window.

Inside, the Russian Vampires were all drinking vodka mixed with blood.

Now would be the perfect time to strike, thought Parliament.

And so he did.

He pushed open the door to the seedy nightclub, and drew dual pistols from his sides.

"Hey, ruskies! The wall may have fallen, but I am the wall of the night that protects the innocents from the likes of you!"

The Russian Vampires never had a chance to retaliate as Charlie Parliament emptied both of his firearms into the face of every Russian Vampire in the club.

He then got a lap dance and tipped generously.

"Well, it looks like this case is closed," remarked Charlie Parliament.

"No, it's just begun. While you were killing everyone, the blood gem was captured by, I don't know, Irish vampires?"

"Yeah ok whatever. Let's go back to the office and come up with a game plan."

"Would it include making sweet love to me, Mr. Parliament?" Sandra whispered hotly.

"Please, call me Detective Charlie Parliament. And I'm sorry, but I'm duty-bound to only sleep with my clients after I've finished their jobs. It's the Surly PI Code."

"I understand," she said, though obviously disappointed. "Would you mind if I stayed over tonight?"

"Yes, I think I have a cot in the closet you can fit on."

TO BE CONTINUED maybe o god im tired.

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Norwegian Spook


I once scared a girl

Or should I say

she once scared me

I wanted to puke

isn't it good

Norwegian spook

She told me that I was not going to go anywhere

So I turned around and I noticed the door disappeared

I sat in her cell

biding my time

wanting to cry

She talked until 2

and then she said

"You're fucking dead"

She told me they won't find my body and started to laugh

I begged her to stop as she started to saw me in half

And when I awoke

I was alone

Hospital bed

It wasn't a fluke

she was a good

Norwegian spook

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Don't Clown With My Heart


You stare longingly into his eyes, hoping against hope that he'll tell you he feels the same way.

But he just laughs at you and honks his nose.

"I should have never fallen in love with a clown," you think to yourself, as he slams the whipped cream pie into your face.

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The Boy Who Refused to Stop Burping


I'm working on a longer & more serious story at the moment, so posts will be slightly less frequent.

in the meantime, please enjoy this story about a boy who refused to stop burping...


Little Tommy Turrell refused to stop burping.

His mother asked him politely several times.

But he refused.

His father beat the crap out of him with a belt.

But he burped with each blow.

Finally, his parents were left with no choice.

They were having company over for supper.

And they couldn't allow their crappy son to ruin everyone's good time with his foul manners.

So they sent Tommy to his room, and painted a "B" on his door in the blood of a virgin sheep.

The sheep was not harmed, they just used a needle to get enough blood to paint with, and gave the sheep a cookie.

The sheep was happy.

The same could not be said about little Tommy when the Noise Collector appeared in a poof of dust inside his room.

Tommy began to sneeze from the dust,

but the Noise Collector lunged at Tommy with his index finger extended, zapping Tommy with some kind of funky blue ray.

Tommy sneezed, but no sound was made.

The Noise Collector bent down and put his shriveled hand on Tommy's shoulder.

"You did this to yourself, you little shit. I have literally no sympathy for you," he said sympathetically.

And with that, he picked Tommy up, and body-slammed him into the door- which was the signal to let the parents know that his work was complete.

Tommy spun around and gazed at him in utter shock, crying silently.

The Noise Collector flipped him the bird, and jumped out his window, stealing several of Tommy's favorite toys.

The dinner went splendidly.

The End.

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The Angry Guy at a Rageaholics Meeting


“Hello, and welcome to rageaholics anonymous. My name is Daniel.”

“FUCK!” screamed Dick.

Daniel looked at him like an angry gorilla looks at another angry gorilla: with anger.

“Dick, what did we say about yelling? Am I going to have to come down off of this podium and show you what for?”

Dick leaped from his chair chest-first, like an enraged ballerina. When his feet hit the ground, he assumed an offensive stance.

“YOU DO WHAT YOU NEED TO DO, DAN.” he shouted.

Daniel front flipped off of the podium and in one smooth motion, grabbed Dick by the arm, and flipped him out the window. Dick fell 2 stories, breaking his leg and his pride.

Daniel spit on him from above.

“I've had it with your anger, Dick.” he roared, and he began to climb to the top of the church, preparing for his final attack. Knowing what was to come, Dick began pleading for mercy as Daniel continued to climb.


Daniel didn't even turn; continuing to climb as he answered “YES DICK, THE ELBOW OF THE GODDAMN HEAVENS.”

After a minute, he reached the top of the bell tower and prepared his chakra. Dick tried limping away, but it was far too late for limping away, which was what he was trying to do. So in other words, it was ineffectual.


And with that, he threw himself from the tower with such force that his body incinerated. He was now a being of pure resentment.

When his elbow made contact with Dick's shoulder, it cleaved him in twain.

All of this happened at the first rageaholics anonymous meeting I went to. But no one will believe me because they say it's impossible to jump off of buildings and cut people in half with solidified hatred.

It makes me so fucking mad.

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A Banquet For Blackbirds


Little Alex Smithsonian was playing outside again.

After his mother warned him not to.

It was dangerous outside; the birds were always watching. Always waiting for you to screw up.

The year was 2033- nearly 14 years since mankind had fallen to the birds.

Sometime around 2010 I think, the Tea Party successfully outlawed math. I'm not really sure. Take what year the story's in- 2033 and subtract 14 from that. It was around that time. I'm sorry, I haven't mathed in many years. Again, about 14.

While President Billy Bob Johnson had made sure Americans didn't use “Devil Numbers”, he couldn't stop the birds. The birds, who saw mankind's failure and their own opportunity to rise.

The birds roosted in abandoned universities and libraries, and taught themselves to use math. By knowing how quickly they could fly vs how fast humans could run, and keeping in mind variables such as cover a human might run to, they developed what were known as “Flying Death Equations”, or FDEs. They used these to successfully murder every world leader on Earth.

America was the first to fall. In our vanity, we never saw it coming. Our weapons were useless, for the crows had also developed wearable magnetic fields which deflected bullets. Any attempt at chemical warfare left us with more casualties than them.

One by one the nations fell, until all that remained of humanity were small clusters of survivors, living underground in terror.

Also, the birds learned to talk.

“CAW CAW, MOTHERFUCKER.” the blackbird cawed at Alex.

Alex was startled, but didn't fear the bird.

“Shut up you old featherhead.” he laughed like an arrogant little shit who's going to die. “I know as long as I don't cross this red line I've set on the ground, I'll be able to outrun you back inside. So much for your Flying Death Equation.”

The blackbird opened his wings menacingly.

“Listen kid, I am going to fucking murder you. That's not even a question. It's only a matter of time before you fuck up, AND WHEN YOU DO, I'M GOING TO BE TH-

suddenly, the blackbird was interrupted

“CAW CAW, LEAVE HIM ALONE AGENT OF SATAN!” a beautiful white dove flew over and karate-kicked the blackbird.

“JESUS CHRIST YOU FUCKING FREAK, I'M OUT OF HERE.” cawed the blackbird as he flew away.

“Are you okay, child?” asked the dove.

“Yes, you dumb old bird. I wasn't in any trouble, but even if I was, why would you want to save me? You're a bird and birds are evil.”

“No child, I am a bird of GOD. Sent here to lead humanity back to glory and to once again have dominion over all things! Grab your things and come with me!”

Alex grabbed his toothbrush because he was certain this would be a long journey.

The dove looked at him as if he were a fucking idiot.

“You don't want a change of clothes or anything? We're going to be traveling all across the world.”

Alex realized that he was right. He grabbed his backpack and filled it to the brim. It was heavy- both with items, and hope.

The dove was still waiting outside.

“Let's go, child.”

“Not so fast, 'Dove'.” said Alex, stopping at his red safety line.

“You must think I'm pretty stupid, don't you? I know this is a trick.”

The bird wiped the white paint off of its face and laugh-cawed.

“The human's more clever than I thought.” the no-longer-disguised blackbird said.

Little Alex was one smug motherfucker. Jesus Christ, the shit eating grin on his face.

The blackbird examined little Alex's backpack.

“... But not clever enough.”

The blackbird from earlier flew down next to the Dove impostor.

“That backpack looks a little heavy, kid.” it cawed.

Alex turned to run as the birds descended upon him.

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A Day


You're babysitting your cousin one afternoon.

He's eight years old.

He goes outside to play.

You go out to watch him.

He starts kicking ant hills.

You warn him to stop it.

He doesn't listen.

You go back inside for a slice of crumb cake,

and when you come back...

your cousin is being carried away by a hundred million ants.

They're marching into the woods.

You follow them quietly.

After a few minutes, they stop at a giant anthill.

It's larger than you.

The ants drop your cousin.

He spots you and runs over to you screaming.

"HELP ME! The ants! The aAants!"

You unzip your face mask and reveal your ant head.

"I WARNED YOU." you cried.

He runs away in terror.

Your ant comrades swarm around your feet, lifting you up, and swiftly carrying you after him.

You're riding a tidal wave of ants.

It bears down on your cousin, engulfing him.

When the ants clear, he is lying there.

You carry him back to the giant anthill.

He awakens. "Nooo, please." he begs.

"Shhh." you whisper. "Accept your anty fate."

You bury him up to his head in the ant hill, and walk away.

Then, a giant person comes and kicks the ant hill.

You watch lovingly as your cousin flies through the air and into the distance.

You return to his house, where your aunt asks where your cousin is.

You tell her the truth. He kicked an ant hill and died.

She laughs and peels off her face, revealing a beetle.

You reach for a kitchen knife, but it's too late. She's upon you, beating you to death with her beetle strength.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door.

"Special delivery!" the knocker said.

Your aunt puts her human face back on, turns to open the door, and a voice asks her "Are you an a(u)nt?"

"Yes I am." she antswered

A giant net then swooped down and captured her.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she screams, "I'm not an ant! There's a real ant in there!"

"Enough of your lies." said the Bug Catcher, "The lying is done."

And he carried her away.

You get up and stumble outside.

Your ant brothers and sisters arrive on the scene.

"Are you okay?" they ask.

"Yes." you reply, "But the Bug Catcher is in town."

"You have to come underground with us."

"No. My place is up here." you say solemnly.

"Good luck... friend." they say, returning to the forest.

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Snakes On a You


You go over your girlfriend's house for dinner.

This is the first time you'll be meeting her parents.

You're sitting down to eat.

There's a bottle of Coca-Cola on the table.

You start pouring some in your glass.

You forget about the fizz.

You fuck up.

It overflows a little bit, and spills down into the table.

It's over for you,

your goose is cooked,

stick a fork in you,

the jig is up. 

Her father starts to scream at your girlfriend.

Snakes start pouring out of his mouth, and she runs to her room.

He turns his attention to you.

He grabs you by the neck and choke slams you through the table.

The mother transforms into a giant snake. The dining room floor is covered in snakes.

Suddenly, your girlfriend's there.

She came back for you.

She has a fire extinguisher, and sprays her parents.

She grabs your hand and leads you running to the front door, and tells you to just keep running.

You run back home, and call her. She answers.

"Hello, I am a snake now."


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