How Bob and I save Christmas, part 2.

The quickest way through a man's heart is through his stomach, which happens to pass through the liver. After sacrificing Midleton's finest to escape from a tent riddled with a bunch of a elegant young men ready to pleasure themselves while watching a woman fornicate with livestock, I was going dry and I was getting very irritable that I no longer had any whiskey to drink. Because you see, the thing that makes the winter cold that much more bearable is a river of liquor to subdue the local populace into a near-comatose state of inebriation. Also it can be used as a fire-starter in several instances, but I would opt against this if you're handling some of the ritzier alcoholic beverages and you have other fire-starting tools at your disposal, like matches or adolescents dressed in several layers of clothing. It's also known in an ironic sense that large amounts of liquor can kill your sex drive, so after the recent break-up with my girlfriend before visiting Washington I've been dilating my blood vessels constantly to keep the heat-seeking moisture missile's targeting system offline.

Unfortunately this is the land of the hicks, meaning there's hardly going to be a saving grace like a 7-11 out here, let alone one that sells high-quality Irish Whiskey. And with sub-zero temperatures sweeping through, my donkey finally froze to death and collapsed to leave me stranded. I pulled an old-fashioned survival technique and cut the filthy animal open to live inside its innards during the snowstorm until morning seeing as how I couldn't see three feet ahead of me. Inside the animal, slowly sobering up and freezing to death I looked back on my miserable life, thinking about that cunt who dumped me, how Bob disappeared or is still at the donkey show. And I also had the charred and deformed mass of what was once a woman snuggled right next to me like some body pillow recovered in a chemical fire. Considering the whiskey dick was wearing off and my throbbing libido was coming back to haunt me, in my desperation I looked for whatever random orifice on the dead hooker that wasn't seared shut like a flesh welder. Like some disgusting hard candy, the tough outer shell still had a soft creamy feeling, so I indulged myself until I fell asleep.

I woke up about an hour later, still freezing my nuts off but the snowstorm died down. I was eager to crawl out of my donkey house only to see a Holiday Inn across the field that I was slowly dying in. And god-almighty, a liquor store. Hesitant to leave my new lover behind, I slowly dragged my corpse girlfriend with me through the snow across the street; she was stiff as a board, so it wasn't that difficult. I waltz into the store, still hard as hell from blue balls. I had to be very careful not to knock anything over as I made my way through the slim isles. Of course long slim corridors that are hard to get through only made my mind race even more, so I had to be quick and grab my whiskey before I caused any collateral damage while I was there. I got to the counter, and realizing I forgot my wallet, I pondered to myself if my new friend had anything. I went outside where I left her and checked her pockets, unaware whether it was actually a pocket or a crack in her charred skin that I was reaching into. I eventually found her wallet with several 50s in there. Awesome. I also looked at the ID in her wallet. In a disturbing plot twist, her name was Amelia, the name of my girlfriend in High School. This also explains that despite being a burnt husk of a human being that she still looked damn good, especially with those C-cups I remembering cherishing. I was in immediate mourning knowing that I ended up killing her and that she got involved in the underground industry of livestock porn after we broke up, so I figured I would pay my respects and bury her. But I can take solace in the fact that I ended up sleeping with her for real this time instead of the atrocity that happened the first time we tried consummating.

After I buried her in the snow, I shed a tear that froze before it hit the ground. Good bye, my beloved; a shame it had come to this before we could make amends. Being depressed, I figured now would be a better time than ever to get drunk beyond reason, but while I made my way into the store the shopkeeper pulled a gun on me. Apparently he saw me burying that corpse and figured I did something terrible, but instead of explaining it to him I jumped behind the shelves in his store as he unleashed a hail of bullets in my direction. I grabbed the nearest molotov I found, stuffed with with shreds of my white T-shirt and threw a flaming bomb over my shoulder in the poor man's direction. I heard it shatter and the man started frantically screaming, telling me that I've clearly struck him. I run out and steal the gun he dropped while he ran and flailed throughout the store. I grabbed my whiskey, but I couldn't leave the man; god forbid he suffer the same fate as my girlfriend. So I shot a bottle of bourbon on one of his counters and the spark set the entire liquor store ablaze. That meant by contrast, the man wouldn't be out of place in the environment. I figured he could learn to live with being on fire in Hell, so I'm prepping him for his soon-to-be new environment.

As I escaped, I saw a ring of torches outside. It was a mob of psychotic killers, all pants-less with erections that they could fly revolutionary flags off of. It was the bunch of horny men from the donkey show, clearly out for blood. I went off into the snowstorm and prepared for war.

How Bob and I save Christmas, part 1.

I went and visited some relatives in Washington for Christmas last year. To be perfectly honest, it didn't sound like a very inviting prospect because if I hate my mother, then it would only be obvious that I would hate my mother's side of the family almost just as much. I knew a friend up there that I visited whenever I got the chance, but the man seemed to have changed since I saw him last. Let's tentatively call him Bob.

Bob and I were bored while we froze our asses off outside.

"Bob, why the fuck aren't we indoors? Your house isn't that far from here."

I say that because Bob lives in the countryside where the Amish apparently invaded and used whatever dark witchcraft they wielded to curse the grounds from ever being paved. Not that it would help since there must've been around 3 to 4 inches of snow on the ground. Now wandering the Washington wilderness alone with Bob, it can be a rather stressful endeavor. Bob was a bit of an eccentric fellow; he was superstitious to say the least. He was randomly pissing on the trees we walked by, saying he was "spirit-herding and creating a barrier of trees to trap his latest harvest" but I personally thought he was bullshitting me just so he can show off his impressive package, seemingly unfazed by the chilly night air. He was wearing shorts in sandals with a tye-dye T-shirt while I was dressed in enough layers of clothing to stop a bullet. Bob is an odd fellow, but I had reason to suspect that Bob was on drugs that cold wintery night due to his behavior that seemed even more out of place than usual.

I wasn't one to complain, because I was cold. When I'm cold, I become irritable, and when I become irritable, I start to drink excessively, and that's something that warms you right up in 15-degree weather. As I drank, I kept asking Bob "When the hell are we going to get to your house?", slowly growing impatient with him as he simply responded "Just a little further now, Conrad." Don't ask where the fuck that nickname came from, but for some reason Bob always called me Conrad and occasionally threw rice and flower pedals in front of me as I walked, apparently blessing the ground I treaded on. I believe Bob thought I was the devil, but he always confused me and my brother so I didn't hold it against him. He's also colorblind, so he can't tell me--a man white enough to look deceased and my brother who looks like a beaner-apart from one another. Of course this made me question if he really knew where the hell he was going, but Bob always pulls through in the last moment.

Eventually we saw a tent and Bob told me the carnival was in town, so we should go inside and warm up. Against my better judgment I did, and as I wandered in, it was indeed warmer. But there were a lot of shady people. There was a scantily-dressed woman within this ring of people, and all the men were gazing lustfully at her as they undid their belts. I did not like where this was going. That woman is going to catch a cold in this weather; she needs to put something warmer on immediately. These men were clearly giving her their jeans and pants to warm her up, but what about them? Another man came out of nowhere made his way into the center.

"Thank god, this person looks dignified. Maybe he'll halt what the hell is about to unfold here and help this poor woman."

He was carrying a leash with him. And I saw an animal. I immediately started chugging my whiskey because I knew where I was. Bob, god bless him, had led me to a Donkey Show.

Now this wasn't necessarily the first time I was in an enclosed space with about two dozen men jerking off, but it certainly was going to be last. I immediately started freaking out, but I didn't want to work my way through the crowd; God knows how many erections I would have to grind against to make my escape, and considering these were new clothes, I didn't want to get them dirty. So what did I do? I jumped into the center of the ring of people where the woman and the donkey stood. If I could redirect the crowd out of my way, I could leave. So I used the last of my whiskey and set the poor woman on fire. She ran screaming for the exit, as would be expected. The crowd avoided her because apparently fire is bad, then I got on the Donkey and gallantly chased behind her to make my exit.

It's a beautiful world we live in.

Bullshit and lies. Everybody knows the worlds sucks. Well there's the irony in the title. A new story of mine has started and a separate blog is called for so it doesn't get lost in the more independent works and general announcements here.

http://itsabeautifulworldwelivein.blogspot.com/

This particular tale centers around Alan Capan's odyssey through a shitty life and how he tries to pull himself out of it. Sometimes in healthy ways, but mostly not. As you can expect from most of my works, this won't be a particularly bright tale, so there's your viewer discretion. I don't intend on it to be incredibly long, though. So hopefully I might actually finish this story.

And expect a few minor updates soon. It's July, which means Christmas is coming.