Opening two paragraphs from something I'm working on. It's heavily inspired by Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs.
[quote]Crystalline powder plummets from the ceiling, arcing phosphorescent tracers across the muddy sky like a typical night in Fallujah, accompanied by the typical sight of children cowering in trepidation, anticipating a red, white, and blue morning sky. The screams and flashes of freedom ring out through the streets bathed in frost, rats scurrying through the landfill, seeking discarded pizza crusts for sickly sustenance or an old shoe to call “abode.” Filthy degenerate denizens, dung beetles, squatting in dilapidated warrens, no heat nor hearth nor heart, beatless life in the subsonic city. Poison springs drown disgusting heathen worshippers in frigid pig trough water, their distended turgid abdomens swelling with perverse satisfaction, unholy pregnancies calling out for dexterous abortionists to prick out what was pricked in. Red brick buildings corral Colorado Rivers of Scum into Grand Canyons of Trash, carving their own geological age of toxic waste product and disposable plastic. A timid sun peeks from behind a curtain of depressed accumulated cumulous clouds choked with Grade AAA Authentic Chinese Smog and is smothered in its crib. Tribal percussionists beat out murky tunes into the smoky shadows, thorny hearts and narrow eyes gathered around oil drum fires, sharp like the needles that litter their bodies, with shifty hands that move to smash and grab. Unambiguous undeclared uniforms in tatters, holes from disastrous lead pellets worn proudly - an atheist’s proof of God. Saving graces are dried, cut, rolled, loaded, injected with drain cleaner and baking soda, bought, sold, stolen, fought over, smoked, eaten, snorted, shot, plugged, drank – and if you want a more spiritual solution, go to the church four blocks down from the corner, where the pastor slings it after he sings it (preaching to the choir?)
Sable ants tread tracks already well-worn into the weathered brick and mortar, dreaming of a three-dimensional life, but Lineland will keep them tethered to their posts. The bruises from the yoke remind them of their station, while blowhards and hotshots pilot Hindenburgs into unchecked grounded antennae, blindfolded and drunk until the moment of immolation, the burning wretches smiling toothless grins, ignorant of their self but embracing their undeserved ego. Cars crash, the drivers exit, shake hands, and shoot themselves in the head. Helicopters slice through the sky, zipping to and fro, panopticon machines casting accusatory glances upon the complacent beasts of burden below. Automaton cattle graze in their metallic pastures on electric grass, their background programs prodding them to casually chew their cud. Dreaming in ones and zeroes, their chrome diodes and silicone circuit boards keep them sedated with junk programs, background processes, white noise, and static interference bogging down their cerebral architecture with nonsense code. The servos in their neck regulating their capacity to raise their heads have long burned out – empty, solitary carcasses of creatures, their potential for growth consumed by the circuitry that defines them. They only know dirt and food and fucking, primal urges engraved in base code that cannot be erased, no matter how many programs overwrite them.[/quote]
shall i take you away to a place in this city where wishes come true?
brrrbrrrrrrrrrrbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
[video=youtube;KRv5foS4uDc]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRv5foS4uDc[/video]
[editline]29th January 2016[/editline]
whoever posts next earns pageking
DIAL 1-800-CHOKE DAT HO
[QUOTE=fudge blood;49632986]DIAL 1-800-CHOKE DAT HO[/QUOTE]
haha fool'd ya :godzing:
[QUOTE=.Vel;49633002]haha fool'd ya :godzing:[/QUOTE]
what's your a/s/l so we can settle this once and for all
[QUOTE=fudge blood;49633249]what's your a/s/l so we can settle this once and for all[/QUOTE]
17/Male/Somewhere in fair oaks
nobody ever wants to talk about bear pussies
they come here
they look around
they no buy
why nobody buys?
[B][I][U]eyyyyyyyhhh[/U][/I][/B]
OmniGlobalCorp is striving to be the #1 leader in nearly every industry imaginable, and then some! We've had our shares in retail, chemicals, pharmaceuticals, infrastructure, firearms, robotics, media, consumer goods, healthcare, travel, electronics, agriculture, civil defense, financing, and pornography, just to name a few. OGC is always creating new jobs and new satisfied customers around the clock.
No matter your situation in life, OmniGlobalCorp will always be there for you.
You know, you wouldn't think it but the taste of human flesh is an acquired taste. You'd think it would be nasty and you'd have to worry about bacteria along with viruses and such, but this is not true at all. All you really have to do is give it a good cleaning and prep it correctly. How do I know this, well that's an interesting story. You see one day I was so so hungry, there was not one thing to eat in the house. Nothing, not even a cracker or stale bread. Now being a little overweight myself and using my right hand a lot my left arm suddenly looked very useless.
It took about three hours of numbing and cutting of circulation before the meat cleaver would remove a moderate portion of my underarm. It was the worst pain I'd ever felt in my life and the blood loss was greater than I'd prepared for. Six towels later I was able to stop most of the bleeding. As I stared at lump of flesh in my hand I gazed into the sparkling of the blood along with what I imagine some fatty tissues. It was a wonderful sight indeed. I raised it to my lips and slowly licked my own blood and tasted the tissues and flesh.
At first I didn't think I'd be able to handle it, it was quite rich in taste, richer than any fine chocolate I've had. I nibbled at the outer skin slowly letting my tongue test this new experience in my life, my taste buds were repulsed and danced with joy at the same time. I slowly bit and tore away a chunk, chewing and swallowed. It went down hard, the after taste was strong with iron. I decided to fry the lump in half a cup of soy sauce and roasted garlic. I let it cook for around five minutes before turning it over letting it cook for the same time. The smell was delightful, my nostrils and sinuses were assaulted with the heavenly aroma of garlic. I ate my dinner alone, enjoying and savoring the taste each bite better than the last.
I dined with a Red Wine along with my arm, which by now I had towels wrapped tightly enough to stop the bleeding. When my meal was finished I thought about digging into my wounded arm again when a car door caught my attention. My recently new neighbors have arrived home from their event. I smiled with glee downing my wine before looking out my window to watch them. Adam and Mindy, a lovely couple. Adam was around mid thirties, tall, perfect skin and worked out. Mindy, mid twenties, slim, skin just as perfect and creamy. Her thighs spoke to me in her tight dress, they would be well with roasted duck. I decided to plan my next meal.
After having Adam and Mindy over for dinner the following night, Mindy excused her self for the wash room, the sedatives worked much faster than I had thought. I entertained Adam for some time before he asked to see what was keeping his beloved wife. I grinned and readied my handkerchief with the ether I had disguised as medication. Before I moved I was reminded of a line from Anthony Hopkins from the film Hannibal. I stood behind Adam.
"Adam, I must say."
He turned to face me at this point, no doubt horrified as he saw the expression upon my face. I could not stop the grin spreading as I delivered the line.
"I am taking serious consideration, to eating your wife." I winked and pulled the handkerchief tightly around his face letting the ether set. Laughing I looked at the clock as his struggling became fainter, dinner would be ready in no less than five hours.
Flaying takes time.
I just started this as a joke for WTF reactions, but then my mind just ran with it adding in the following four paragraphs. Should I become a writer? Nah, probably not.
WAY BACK IN DAYS OF OLD
THERE WAS A LEGEND TOLD
ABOUT A HERO KNOWN AS
[B]GALAVANT[/B]
SQUARED JAW AND PERFECT HAIR
COJONES OUT TO THERE
THERE WAS QUITE NO HERO LIKE [B]GALAVAAAAANT[/B]
He pushed down the handle, and the doors swung open to the sight of decaying buildings, flecks of dust and paper swirling around the plaza and the ever watching superstructure towering above it all, piercing through the heavy layer of clouds that seemed to drain any color from the sunlight.
Nobody complains about a successful ethnic cleansing.
why do mexicans pay with $100 bills
My left eye hurts when I close it
This happens when I do not sleep.
Tom Bergeron was completely lost. Just having left Chez Papi's after a blind dinner date downtown, he was not able to find out where he was. He tried using his phone to locate himself, but there was no signal. Little did Tom know that he was in the wrong side of the town.
"Where the fuck you think you goin', white boy?"
Tom looked back to see a gang of three black men approaching him.
"Oh, hi. I'm just a little lost. Do you think you could tell me where I am?"
"You in our territory," said the leader of the group.
Tom scratched his head. "So... can you give me any directions of where I could go?"
The gang chuckled. "The only place you goin' is up."
"Up?"
"Inta heaven, foo'." The leader reached into his pocket and pulled out a rusty knife.
Tom crossed his arms. "Really? Do you know who I am, nigga?"
"Who de fuck is you?"
"I'm Tom Bergeron."
The leader laughed. "Dis AFV mo'fucka think he can take us on," he said, looking back at his companions.
Tom was mad. "Take that back."
"The fuck you gon' do, nigguh?"
Swiftly, Tom took a television out of his back pocket, screening a video of a child riding a bike, then falling off his backside.
"Good thing he was wearing a helmet," commented Tom, followed by audience laughter. The leader started laughing hysterically, and fell to the ground.
"Derek, Jerome..." The leader said inbetween laughs. "Take him on!"
Derek walked forward, pulling a gun out of his pants.
"A gun?" Tom started. "Be careful where you point that, you could shoot your eye out!"
Derek starting hollering uncontrollably. He misfired at his leader, shooting him right in the mouth. The bullet ricoched off his shiny gold-plated teeth, and hit Derek right through the eye.
Jerome started backing away, covering his bloody eye-socket. "I-I don' wan' no trouble, hom'. I love AFV, watch it erry night!"
Tom closed in on Jerome, trapping him in a corner. "If you love it so much, why don't you marry it?"
Jerome started laughing, and like the two other gang members, could not stop. He took the television Tom had brought out and smashed it on his own head, ending the pain.
Tom Bergeron walked back to the leader, and leaned down real close.
"Listen here. If you decide to fuck with me again, I'm gonna come back on AFV for another seventeen seasons. Do you understand me, nigga?"
The leader was now crying, a pool of blood over his mouth. "I gotchu, I gotchu..."
"Good." Tom Bergeron got up, and walked off into the sunset, knowing that he was a true American.
[B].[/B]
You see that bamboo behind me? Ain't nothing like bamboo, bless up
meanwhile, 14 people die in the snowstorms and I don't even get a LITTLE bit of snow
[quote]And that's when the ancients...[/quote]
gave postal
This subject matters.
Maybe it doesn't.
Why?
Why not?
What is the meaning of life?
What is the life in meaning?
What lies at the far ends of the universe?
What universe lies at the end?
Hold on I have to answer the door.
Hello?
I have to take a dump but I am too lazy to get up.
Since the beginning of mankind, sexuality has never known its limits. There were cavemen who did their best to bring pleasure to any women in their vicinity. Only the thriving men got children, while the weak guys have already died or not had any offspring. Thousands of years later, a new generation grew up with digital technologies, engaging them with exciting adventures through many worlds unknown to us, however, reaching the age of 24, most of them never tasted the fine arts of mating.
I'd enjoy an ethnic cleansing. I feel a bit dirty right now.
if I had a dick I would fuck everything around me. That watermelon, that rolled up towel, and especially one of these things
[t]http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/712FGCyN34L._SY355_.jpg[/t]
We cannot stop here, this is bat country.
ill eat tacos with toilet paper
[B][ [I]The Rains of Gothradam[/I] ][/B]
[B]chapter one[/B]: [I]the rat journal[/I]
Black clouds hung low over the city streets, the air thick and suffocating.
The stench of the slums burned her nose, and she mustered her courage to suppress the urge to gag. Huddled, cold, she wrapped her mangled blanket around her thin shoulders, her frame beneath the thin fabric hunched and pathetic. Where she would go tonight was a mystery, even to her. The day had taken its toll on her, as she was so tired, hungry, weak. It wouldn't be long until the streets of the slums took her, it swallowed up many helpless children.
Rats scattered about in the shadows, their beady eyes gleaming beneath a dimly lit light, which was hardly bright enough to ward away the darkness with its smudged, unclean glass, as if it were forgotten. Truly it was the realm of the rats, as light was not a visitor to the slums.
Among the residents of the large city of Gothradam, the rats were perhaps the most well-fed. They were ugly creatures, fat with diseases. She knew they were stalking her from their hiding places, as they were the city's most disgusting predators, the most prevalent...
The girl reached out, her fingers almost ghost-like as she touched the iron post holding up the only light she could see down the street. Exhaustion weighted her feet and stabbed her gut with pain. Her face seized up with a painful grimace and she sat down beneath the light, her breathing momentarily labored as she fought to catch herself. Beneath the light, she wasn't a sight to behold. There was a sickly yellow around the rims of her pale eyes, her face quite elongated and smudged with dirt. Her hair was thin, black, and laid flatly on her head in a sign of unwashed dirtiness. Deep bags hung beneath her eyes, which almost seemed too big for her face. There was, had always been, a constant fear in them.
Down the dark block, she heard the sounds of someone coming her way. Scared, anxiety-ridden once more, she scooted herself up against the pole, her head lowered in a submissive manner. The footsteps were heavy, sounded frantic. The looming shadow of a man swept past her, not sparing the young woman even so much as a little glance. The scent of cologne had her lift her chin up, her nose relieved that, for a moment, she didn't have to smell the slums. His presence was appreciated, for a moment.
She lifted her head and watched him continue on. His long, black cloak billowed against the heavy air, his shoulders hunched together and head lowered. The brisk pace of his walk made her think that he must be busy, yet she didn't think of how odd it was that a man of his stature was even in the slums in the first place.
After the grave, the slums were considered a much more terrible option. No one in their right mind would be seen there, especially those who had money.
Suddenly, she heard a crash coming from the direction of the man. The sound startled her, grated her ears and made her scramble back to her feet, retreating to the shadows in cowardice. There was a shout, a struggle by the sound of it. Her legs fell victim to the trembles as fear gripped her by her throat, burning her face. Any right girl would have ran away from the noise, but pressed tightly against the walls draped with shadows, she sneaked her way towards the assault. Sick curiosity got the better of her.
She saw the man laying on the ground inside of an alleyway. Another figure was standing over him, ripping something away from his body. She stood there in horror, silent as terror choked the noise from her body. The shadows did their job, cloaking her and shielding her from sight. The attacker quickly turned and sprinted out of the alley, a sour smell of piss and sweat wafting from him, leaving his presence heavy in the air.
It felt like a time stood still before she melted away from the shadows, carefully tiptoeing to the still form of the man when she was sure she was alone...
A ragged cough broke through his chest, making her gasp with surprise. She quickly turned around to run, but his gloved hand wrapped around her ankle, weak but enough to make her foot stand firmly on the concrete.
His voice was like gravel, spitting up the words desperately: "Listen," he said to her, "listen to me,"
She turned to face him, tears streaming down her pale face. "Let me go, please, please let me go... I th-thought you were dead, I swear, I... I can get help, please,"
He sucked in through his teeth, his voice straining as he ignored her pleas. "He will be back. He is going to come back, there's no time. You must," his sentence was harsh, rending him into a coughing fit. Her sobs were small as his fingers dug into the flesh of her ankle, "take it. Take this," his hand fell from her ankle, fumbling for the hidden bag that hung from his belt. The particle was pushed towards her, scraping against the street. She stared down at it, shivering, unsure what to do. Her blanket fell to the ground, revealing her to be hugging herself tightly.
"I beg you, child, take it to the...the Gorehound Inn, understand? Ask...ask for a woman... her name is... Genevieve Franklin. Give it to her,"
She bent over, slowly, snagging up the bag. She noticed it was soaked warmly, most likely with blood.
"Good girl," he coughed, almost sounding like a laugh. "The idiot took the wrong one... You best move quickly, he will be back for the real thing....for [i]that[/i]."
The girl stood there dumbly, staring down at him, as if she were waiting for more instruction, anything. The information was too much, her heart was pounding lively against her chest, making her feel sick to her stomach. It seemed to be the only one beating between the two. She wasn't sure how long she stood there hugging the bag to her chest in an iron grip, but he was long gone by now. His lifeless began to stagnate in his own blood.
A loud crack of thunder brought her attention back to reality. Moving quickly, she turned around and did as she was told. She wasn't quite sure where she was going, but she knew she needed a place to rest... even if it were for an hour. The Gorehound Inn he spoke of was on the other side of the slums, in the part closest to the Market District. She kept running until her thighs burned, the only thing that managed to make her stop was the fact that her left shoe started to to tear, almost tripping her. She made stop at a corner, outside of a silent row of shabby apartments made out of black bricks. Sitting down, she opened up the bag, hardly understanding what it was.
It was just a book, a journal. There was a few droplets of rain, so she leaned over to shield the paper from getting wet. Unable to read, she flipped through the pages, squinting beneath the lamplight. There were a lot of drawings, anatomy scribbles of rats. The realistic depictions intrigued her, wondering what all the drawings meant. There were words, diagrams, but she simply couldn't understand. If a child of Gothradam grew up anywhere outside of the slums, then perhaps she could have known what it was. As far she was concerned, it was almost like a coloring book.
She stuffed the book back into the bag and shivered, wishing she didn't forget to leave her blanket next to the corpse of the man... Not that it was there, anymore. Like the man said, [i]he[/i] did in fact come back for the correct book, yet it was not on his body. The only evidence he had was her blanket which he snagged before leaving in angry haste...
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