As requested by a FB TGK fan, an S and M story. Part
One.
Some clarification -
I am not into this sort of thing at all. I write satire and make people laugh.
I am not into this sort of thing at all. I write satire and make people laugh.
So – I thought about this a lot. All 30 seconds, and
decided to write a sketch that hopefully will turn your stomach and if you get
to end – who is the sickest of us all? You who read it, or I who wrote it?
Perhaps – both, for the fascination for horror, ‘schadenfreude’, and the general misery of the runts of this planet, makes you laugh because most of it is their own fault - runs deep in the psyche of the human being.
I used several real examples along with some rather extreme perverse writings I have read to create this -
A title? How about – Fucked to Death -
It was time. Hah – The Yorkshire Ripper had nothing on me. I never did clock the dumb clown. Murdering away but he never really got his rocks off. Waste of a hammer.
Of course, I had a plan. No big deal. The country side is littered with the rotting bones of the unwanted. I can proudly say about 34 recyclable bin bags of ‘fertilizer’ have contributed to some serious spring flowering of daises. I must laugh. The police? What a joke. Someone missing? They have been missing from society so long – the bureaucrats still send them payments every month.
That is how I live. I have a job. That you will see, but part time, - for making a screaming bitch chant her PIN number whilst I shove a children’s shovel up her shithole (such fun shoveling the shit out of them – especially when you dislodge the intestines) – ahh, that brings in plenty of coin.
But I digress. The latest stinking cunt I hunted was the best. I knew where to get her. I had spotted her with the other drunken low life in the underpass of Münchner Freiheit underground station. That’s where they hang out. I do feel sorry for the dogs though. Still, the bums have a great life. Just laugh, drink and drink, fuck in the open – humping humps of rags, some with their dogs.
Security ignores them; the public walk a wide berth. Me? I pass the occasional one holding out a beggar’s hand. Mumbling about starving and I give him a quick kick in the jaw. That shuts him up and stops him chewing on his dog’s knob for a while.
(So – that ends Part One – I hope you DO not look forward to the next bit. But I know you will. The thing is – how many dare to ’like’ or comment?
Perhaps – both, for the fascination for horror, ‘schadenfreude’, and the general misery of the runts of this planet, makes you laugh because most of it is their own fault - runs deep in the psyche of the human being.
I used several real examples along with some rather extreme perverse writings I have read to create this -
A title? How about – Fucked to Death -
It was time. Hah – The Yorkshire Ripper had nothing on me. I never did clock the dumb clown. Murdering away but he never really got his rocks off. Waste of a hammer.
Of course, I had a plan. No big deal. The country side is littered with the rotting bones of the unwanted. I can proudly say about 34 recyclable bin bags of ‘fertilizer’ have contributed to some serious spring flowering of daises. I must laugh. The police? What a joke. Someone missing? They have been missing from society so long – the bureaucrats still send them payments every month.
That is how I live. I have a job. That you will see, but part time, - for making a screaming bitch chant her PIN number whilst I shove a children’s shovel up her shithole (such fun shoveling the shit out of them – especially when you dislodge the intestines) – ahh, that brings in plenty of coin.
But I digress. The latest stinking cunt I hunted was the best. I knew where to get her. I had spotted her with the other drunken low life in the underpass of Münchner Freiheit underground station. That’s where they hang out. I do feel sorry for the dogs though. Still, the bums have a great life. Just laugh, drink and drink, fuck in the open – humping humps of rags, some with their dogs.
Security ignores them; the public walk a wide berth. Me? I pass the occasional one holding out a beggar’s hand. Mumbling about starving and I give him a quick kick in the jaw. That shuts him up and stops him chewing on his dog’s knob for a while.
(So – that ends Part One – I hope you DO not look forward to the next bit. But I know you will. The thing is – how many dare to ’like’ or comment?
Part Two
The plan. You always need a plan unless planning
for Brexit….
1 comment:
Better than anything Robert Mugabe or Dylann Roof ever came up with!
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