Twitch, gibber, twitch at twelve. (1012 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.69 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by KampA (View user info) at 2006-01-03 19:05:39 EST
Firstly, go away, you sick, twisted paedophilic butthounds. They only one allowed to penetrate prepubesant shitholes is ME, godammit, so fuck off! Despite the title, this is not about assraping a twelve-year-old until they're mentally scarred enough to twitch and gibber.
This *is* about why this post is one of the first things I've done, mobility-wise, all year. Apart from copious masturbation, of course. But hell, I can do that all lying down here, and I'm not the sort to mind damp wads and crusty patches on my troos.
Did I just say 'troos'? Jeez fuck, but let's get on with the story before I degenerate into some kind of village idiot/rapist/loon/pig-fucking american.
*
"Hey, love the hat!" Course you do, goatballs, it's a bowler hat with '2006 Happy New year' on the rim in red. How can you not love it? Fridge me - new years wouldn't be such if I don't have me drink. On beer, though, which isn't my choice.
Too hoppy and oaty and brewed-y.
Ah, fuckit. There's bound to be something stronger around here I can switch to.
The hat and the dark shades (at NIGHT!!!1!! LOLZ roxxors) drew some funny glances as we hit the offy for some extra liquid refreshment, but the hoods kept their ill-educated mouths shut, as well they might. I am, after all, a Doctor of Pain. Fuckers wouldn't know what hit 'em. Right up until the hideous mace/acid concoction wore off, anyway.
*
Three highly rapid buds later and vibes begin to feel quite good, considering. Neighbours are probably pissed, cos music is playing far too loud. This is mainly because I play all the songs I like with excessive volume, and I brought the CD's, so I tend to like most of 'em. Fuck 'em. Not *my* neighbours, by Noah's sainted foreskin.
Hell, did the dude have one? Nah, brother was *Jew*. Ah well. Metaphors don't always work out.
Someone left a litre vodka bottle lying about, and I spot a nearly-full bottle of coke, 2 litres. I'm tired of drinking fuzzy beer anyway. I pick up the bottles and cast around for a glass...
...
...then I look at the vodka. It isn't quite full...
...
...then I look at the coke. Ain't quite full. Room at the top to pour something into it...
...
You could almost see the lightbulb go off above my head.
*
"Fuckin'...left...RIGHT FOOT!" The coke bottle is mainly empty, and bitch was laced with a nearly 50/50 mix of vodka/coke when you take into account the missing sugar-flavoured brown water. Line dancing was becoming increasingly difficult. I stumbled out and began to dance with a recent ex. She looks better now, actually.
Fuck, that reflects badly on me. Maybe on the stroke of midnight I should lamp her and fuck her on the living-room floor.
Shit, weird look. Did I just blurt that out?
Swig from the bottle again. Cover it up. Those hammer curls at the gym must be working, cos the heavy 2 litre bottle hasn't been giving my right forearm any bother all night. Ah, bullshit, it's the excessive wanking and I know it.
She does smeel good though. Ah, here comes the tounge. Is it midnight already?
*
Better not be, I can remember thinking, through a rainbow haze of my own vomit. I managed to get it all it the bowl, though, which is pretty damn cool, and everyone came up to the bathroom to watch me throw up, so I don't even mind when the more dangerously excited of them decide to lie in the bath with the water on.
It'll teach the fuckers when they wake up drowned.
"Splice it!" that gets a few head-turns. "We need to outweigh this shit somehow," I bellow at my ex, hands cupped theatrically around my mouth to whisper. She looked pained at the volume, but at least if I burst one of her eardrums it halves the chance of her hearing me as I sneak up behind her with a chemical-soaked rag clutched in one sweaty little hand.
*
My mate is sitting rigid on the bed, hand clenched over his bony knees. "I reckon we gave him too much," I purr. This is indeed doing some serious outweighing. Others are getting dangerously excited now, and I dive outside the room to spray one of the strangers down on basic principles. Hook the dick, the fish will follow, as they say.
He must have been inhaling at the keyhole, because he only moans as he goes down. No screaming. 'Mr Tambourine Man' is cranked up to vol 50, and someone hands me a few pills. I wash 'em down with a mouthfull of what now tastes like water. Probably whiskey. Or piss. Right colour, anyway. The point is, I need fluid, elsewise the E's (if that's what they are - I didn't feel like studying them too much before) might dehydrate me to death.
"You know, sometimes that shit kills you by *over*hydrating your brain," mutters someone as I make for the door again. I spray wildly over my shoulder for the hell of it, but my witty retort is lost as I misjudge the step. Who puts a fucking step outside a door, I ask, as I forget to brace my arms out to break the fall.
Same damn fool who puts doors dangerously close to the tops of flights of stairs, I muse as I notice that what just came out of my crotch was laced with the reddist piss I ever saw. Either that, or the stone fuckers got me in the kidneys on the way down.
Speaking of dangerous excitement, I reckon this guy must be the one who owns the house, because he seems real hyped up about the puddle of red urine on the floor. He keeps yelling something, like "Please! Piss! Please!"
Fucker isn't making any sense, but I oblidge him. Bladder was feeling a little full anyway.
*
It turns out he was saying 'Police'. Someone kindly hauled me upstairs, but after a few refreshing breaths out of the window, a bit of projectile vomitting at the garden gnome and a noseful of some crushed red pill I found in a jacket, I feel good, so I fall down the steps again, but I manage to hit the banister with my hip and stay on the second floor. Bastard isn't tricking me twice.
Feels like hemmeroids on my upper thigh, but I still manage to stagger over to the fuzzy outline of a blue coat and hat. "What appears to be the problem, officer?" I ask glibly, pulling off my best Samuel L Jackson impression. "I'll turn the music down, if I've offended the neighbours..." I wave my hand in the general direction of the player. I think it got quieter, and congratulated myself on my absolute fucking brilliance, but I was pretty sure that the owner of the house should be doing this.
I had sudden visions of someone who looked very like the guy who lived here trying to open a door...with me on the other side. Thoughts coalese with a horrifying slowness.
Maybe that guy wasn't trying to steal our smoke through the keyhole. Maybe he was just trying to see what the fuck we were doing...
...
...I tap the spray bottle in my inside pocket. Nearly empty.
Oh, shit. Fucker must have got a good dose. No wonder he didn't scream - the chemicals probably tore him a new nose through his eyeballs. This fucking cop is pretty silent. Pissing me off, and now I realise what I've done and what I've been chucking into my body all night...I tear my 50 quid jacket trying to rip the can out on the policeman.
Then I swear and punch him hard enough to break two knuckles and finger.
Then I dive out the nearest window.
*
When I woke up, it was almost the 2nd of January, and I was lying half through a glass-panelled door to the second floor bathroom. There was a broken handstand with a faded denim jacket on it tangled in my legs.
I would go on, but I feel the tiger in me says it best.
User Reviews
Submitted by EchoBoxing (user info) at 2006-02-20 23:15:47 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by Doberish (user info) at 2006-02-20 23:02:57 (#)
Ranking: -2
You suck.
Submitted by Doberish (user info) at 2006-01-10 19:06:56 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Should have read it all, Shlong.
It was damn good.
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2006-01-08 15:46:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Huh?
If I could have gotten through it all, it was probably +2 material but I really wouldn't know.
Submitted by Doberish (user info) at 2006-01-04 16:44:48 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Fuck me, but you love it?
Awesome.
And no, I was stone cold sober when I wrote this. A little hyped up on sleep deprevation, but no alcohol or mind-altering drugs.
Except maybe caffine.
I'll recount more of my nights out, then.
Submitted by Flying_buttmonkey (user info) at 2006-01-04 07:21:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I think I speak for us all when I say WTF??!!!!one one eleven!
I approve
Submitted by phuzzygish (user info) at 2006-01-04 06:59:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
And this, kids, is your mind. On drugs.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-01-04 06:43:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Superb.
I couldn't find time to breath between paragraphs.
-Dave
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2006-01-04 00:41:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Apart from the odd typo - smeel, tounge - this was awesome.
(I have to point those out, the voices in my head make me, I'm sorry, please don't hate me it's not my fault etc)
Submitted by DanielH (user info) at 2006-01-03 23:54:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
then I look at the vodka. It isn't quite full...
----
One man looks at a bottle of vodka and says it's half empty; another looks at it and says it's half full. I look at them both and tell them to finish off the fuckin bottle and stop bitchin.
This was fucked up funny. (What you wrote, not me.)
Submitted by Blinkish (user info) at 2006-01-03 22:32:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Read this sober ... no sense, drunk? I fucking love it.
Submitted by MrSparkle847 (user info) at 2006-01-03 20:32:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
He keeps yelling something, like "Please! Piss! Please!" Fucker isn't making any sense, but I oblidge him. Bladder was feeling a little full anyway.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-01-03 20:31:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
son, are you drunk?
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-03 20:00:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by pantsarestupid (user info) at 2006-01-03 19:47:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
...whew
Submitted by Doberish (user info) at 2006-01-03 19:29:05 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Gonzo, baby, prima gonzo.
Glad you like it.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-01-03 19:21:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You know in Requiem for a Dream how they did those cool, sped up drug montages that make you feel all frantic? That's how I felt as I read this post.