Posted by NL on November 08, 2004 at 13:31:29:
Why They Killed-- Part 12
Hi, my name is Bobby Bamboon, but back in High School everybody called me Bobble because I bobbled so many snaps. Well, I only bobbled those snaps because my schlong got in the way. I guess in a sense you could say that if it wasn't for that goddamn foot-long schlong I might not have become a killer. Oh, I guess I might of gone apeshit and shot up the Auto Parts Store where it seems I never did get a genuine AC Delco part for my PU, though I tried, but that would not have been a sexual killing. What I did, of course, and it is what I am known for if you discount bobbling a lot of snaps, and my brief career in the porn industry, is kill Lusty Flesh-O-Rama, my wife and fuck partner in those porn flicks. Of course Lusty had a career in porn long before we met each other, back in Dead Critter, Texas. Yup, come to find out, Lusty Flesh-O-Rama was a old Dead Critter gal, once a sort of wall flower and shrinking violet until she up and run off to LA and got transformed by plastic surgeons into the creature we all knew and loved as Lusty. What happened was, she liked to sneak back into town now and then with her boobs strapped down, wearing a dark frizzled wig and black face and a shapeless sack dress. One time, for the sake of nostalgia I guess she snuck herself into a high school football game, where, you guessed it, my foot-long schlong popped out and I bobbled the snap. That's when she fell in love with me, so she said later. After the game in the lockers the couch (yeah, I know, it's "coach" but I always called Coach Roach Couch Pouch because it made him mad) said to me, he said, "Goddamn your sorry ass, Bobble, if you would just cut off that goddamn foot-long schlong you could be a great center!" And I said, "No can do, COUCH, because I like my schlong. It and I are on the best of terms and anyway I only play football to screw the cheerleaders." And that was true, too. And then couch pouch just stalked away steaming mad because my Dad owned 99% of Dead Critter and he was the elder in everybody's church (Jumpin' Bejeezus Ozarka Water) and the Sheriff besides, and if he decided he wanted you dead, well, you were likely to turn up packed into a 50 gallon drum, all rotten and full of bullet holes and maggots if you know what I mean. Shit, I could do any damn thing I wanted and I admit raping a few gals but I had never killed anyone, then. My Dad took care of that. He did that if the girls I raped wouldn't shut the fuck up about it, or if their families tried to raise a stink. Like, I raped this cute negro gal in my high school and my Dad, he ended up having to kill her, and her family and this ACLU guy who showed up, and he even burnt down this girl's house and hung up the charred and bullet-ridden corpses down in front of the county jail, as a reminder of who was boss in Dead Critter. Oh, there was one bad time when Dad was knocking the snot out of my Mom and killed her, but then he explained to me about God and God's law and how Man has Dominion over the Earth and all Creatures that are of the Earth. So I felt better because it all fit The Plan-- the righteous, the unrighteous and all that shit. Unless you're some kind of commie I'm sure you've heard it a thousand times. Well, with a Dad like that, a real old-time Patriarch, I had a very easy time of it back there in Dead Critter, Texas. I guess I took it all for granted. I think now that those guys in the Auto Parts Store were real brave to keep cheating me like they did, selling me those fake AC Delco parts, knowing what my Dad would do to them if he caught on. Any rate, just as I walked out of that locker room after that fateful game (ummm, we lost, but as usual, whenever that happened, the bus taking the visiting team back to whatever hellhole they came from got mysteriously shot up and run off the road) with my hair still wet from the showers, a vision of fuckalicious screwadelic female flesh such as you cannot find anywhere outside the adult film industry loomed up out of the mist and came slooowly toward me jiggling and wiggling and bulging and snapping spandex, all tightly packaged in a yellow halter top and pink short shorts, and the teeth in my head began to rattle and hum and thank God I wasn't out on the football field because I would certainly have bobbled another snap.
"You are sooo kewel," Lusty bubbled at me, as we slurped up CherryCokes at the Olde Soda Shoppe.
"I seen all your pictures, Miss Flesh-O-Rama," I said. "They are a great inspiration to all the football players." She giggled and it seemed like boobs were everywhere. Until she told me, I never knew Lusty hailed from my very own town, but once I knew it, I realized at once that except for that overwhelming bod, she was like every girl I'd met in Dead Critter-- she was shrewd and scheming and horny and out for the best deal she could get. What she had in mind that night was something her agent Maury (just Maury-- no last name) wanted her to do, and that was to get hitched to a well-hung hometown guy and then make a series of skin flicks together. We were gonna be the White Trash Couple, performing deviant acts, trailer trash sex stars rutting like abnormal animals. Sounded like fun to me. We had to run off that very night, and quickly, before my Dad got wind of things. I knew he'd be pissed because he wanted me to grow up to be a big Honcho like him. But his idea of a Big Honcho was kind of limited and out of date. Nothing could compare to fucking Lusty Flesh-O-Rama every hour on the hour, on and off stage, and starring in porn flicks with her, in exciting features like "Gonzo Redneck Degenerates"-- our first film, in fact.
Unfortunately, once we got to LA I realized how dependent I would be on Lusty, because she knew that big nasty ass city very well, and I was lost-- lost and out of my element. And then when that goddamn Maury (just... "Maury") found out my Dad was fixing to track me down he used his big time mafia porno crime family connections and had a B-52 fly over Dead Critter and drop a stick of 500 lb bombs.
Yes, I was living large in LA, but something ate at my guts the whole time: it might of been the city of angels but it sure as hell was not the City of God. Was I not a Man, and had not Man been given Dominion over all the Earth, and all the Creatures of Earth? I never really realized before how much I'd enjoyed rape, just plain old straight up and down rape, until I got involved in that porn business with Lusty. You can fuck your brains out with the most beautiful women in the world, but nothing can compare to the thrill of rape in Smalltown USA; good old boys, raping good old gals, and beating the snot out of 'em in the meantime, the MEAN time, why, that was what family life was all about! What the hell did I have with Lusty? She did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it, with no protest at all. Besides that, if I ever did go so far as to lay a hand upon her in anger, Maury would have me holding hands with Jimmy Hoffa.
That LA traffic always scared me shitless but I got out one fine day and bought myself an UZI. When I got home Lusty was soaking herself in the hot tub. I stripped naked and emptied the clip into her and dragged her bullet-ridden body out of the hot, soapy, bloody, water and fucked her good, one last time. I stuck myself in her butthole, and in her snatch, and in her mouth, but when my foot-long schlong finally erupted love milch I had it between her huge natural tits. The fact that those boobs had about three bullet holes apiece only made it that much spicier.
Well, I been on the run ever since, one step ahead of Maury and his ruthless mafia porn family. But I feel like a man again, and I make sure to rape and murder at least one gal in every town I stop in. Someday Maury may catch me, and if that happens I will suffer and die, or maybe the law will get me first. Whatever. The bottom line is that I am living the way a man was intended to live, with Dominion over the Earth, and over all the Creatures that are of the Earth.