The Hound of Kittenville

The Hound of Kittenville

By: David McGhee

Pugsly the pug was a thug amongst thugs. With his tattoo of a cat's paw, he was an official kitty witty cat cat gangster. An honorary feline. Of the “here kitty kitty” variety. Genus: Kitty widdy cat cat. He had joined the ranks of Tabby the Terrible, Kill Kitten Thirteen, and the smartest cat of all, Drew. Oh he was a cunning monster. Who used his Christian Bible and street smarts to con the rich out of their loot and give it to welfare queens. Sort of like a modern day Robin Hood. Only these riches come in the form of scrumpdiddlelyumcious kitty treats. That's right. He would steal the fat cat's kitty witty cat cat treats and give them to the scrawny assed chick alley cats. He was a Himalayan Persian, so it was generally easy for him to gain access into the toughest of fortresses. Him and his cute fluffy black tail! Look! He's chasing it now! Awe!!!

Smiley face.

El oh el

Those famous feline murderers were also old style bank robbers. Like Bonny and Clyde. They tend to pull similar jobs in both style and veracity of plans, but had yet to collaborate as of this author's knowledge.

Pugsly got his street cred on the mean streets of Evergreen Terrace. Which is just a stone's throw from Spooner St. He would run up to joggers and ice cream men (The kind that pull their cart for a living, the ones where you had a Mexican shouting in Spanish at passerby's all about how awesomely awesome his Horchata ice pops are. And indeed, they rock) and bite the dickens out of their ankle length pants. He would hold on, he would! And the resulting beating that he received to make his jaws go limp promptly sent him to the dogey hospital. He died two hours later. The irate Mailman said he'd kick it in the nuts again and again until the thing fucking died. Again.

Oh he had a beautiful funeral.

Alan, his master, wrote a poem about it.

Oh Pugsly

So dapper and lover of the ladies.

You got me laid

Again

And again

And again

The chicks dig a man in a band with a pug

And for this I am forever in your debt

Which saddens me to say

From your face, I assumed you were gay

Fart fart, I don't give a shit

You were a fucking dog

I just bought another pug today and I'm calling it Pugsly

And it's a bitch dog too

I'm calling a bitch dog Pugsly, because that's what you were

Fucking stupid dog; eats his own poop...

Pugsly 2.0: Looked rather like a Siamese cat with Downs Syndrome. She was in every aspect, the perfect companion. Oh it was fun torture it! Never do any lasting damage. Not like you would with a cat. A cat is a way of God saying “You may now have the animal equivalent to the bitchiest of bitches who happen to have Histrionic Personality Disorder along with a touch of autism thrown in the mix. It was that touch of autism that the cats found Pugsly fascinating. The weird and different yet comfortable and none threatening. It was nice to have a dog around where you can get your pent up kitty cat aggression out on. You could scratch the the fuck out of the bitch and she just pants, smiling “Gee George, that was awesome George.” Pant. Pant. Pant. “Gee George, why are you cutting my tits off George?”

Pugsly gained entry to the “Felines Respect, All Niggas Killed”. Or “FRANK.” Along with another outfit, a pussy biker gang that went by the name “The Mother's of Nature.” Or TMON. Not exactly a good acronym, but the guy who names these things was on a forced vacation, with pay, so an intern had to name it. Blame it on that guy. I bet he totally pets them pussies too. Make's them purr!!!

Both gangs rivaled each other. One a master of ninjabonics, another a master at bikering! Who will the victor be? And why am I talking to myself?

One will stand truer than the other in an epic eight season hit cable TV drama “Toms of Anarchy.” In which a biker gang smuggles something or other and other gangs are in it and the father becomes the leader of the gang but then his son becomes the leader and they all have sixteen litters of kittens. The calico is named “Fido” and the tabby is “Puff Puff.”

The father, Fred Astaire, another tabby, is the leader of this biker gang in the beginning. He formed the “Mothers of Nature” back when he was just a kid riding a Yamaha TW200 motorcycle. O what fun they had as a gang of misfits and Tom cats. A new pussy every night, along with parties where snorting of catnip is sniffed off of the teats of a female Russian Blue. Her name was fish, who was actually a male, and he/she remembers it as follows:

Fish: “I was high. So very high. I'm high right now. I'm so very high. I needs me some kitty kibble!” Fish then goes off camera and the sound of something crunching emanates from parts unseen. The the lens goes dark. A gun goes off. There is a scream.

When it comes back into focus we see that there is a dead Irish Setter laying on the ground below. Above, the ninja like Fish is laughing maniacally at his most recent kill.

“Don't do drugs kids!” Fish explains. “Let the drugs do you!”

Fish then goes on down the road of addiction. Kitty heroin is a scourge that must be stopped. You see, Pugsly 2.0 is actually a spy out to eradicate the kitty drug lords. Goddammit, why does every dog have to be a good guy? Huh? Why are cats looked down upon? Why? Oh God why?

Because they're pussies. Hey-yo! And nobody like dat pussy. It's a rancid and acrid pussy. So smelly and sticky it corrodes her flesh away. Pugsly dowses her with Methamphetamine, she comes back to her normal Fish like self. Still so furry where it counts. Meow!

Pugsly walks up to his bitch master and expects a treat for doing what dogs do best, wasting the space where a cat could be. Who orders these things anyways?

Pugsly looks up at his bitch master and pants. She smiles and her tongue falls out of her mouth. It hangs like a search light, spotting her hand and ravishing it with dirty puppy kisses. But the bitch is ignored by the Bitch Master.

“You should have been a cat.” The Bitch Master says sullenly as she strokes Fish's fur. He purrs in contentment and smiles upon his genetically inferior friend. You had to pity her really.

Pugsly is oblivious to what she said. Because she's a fucking dog! They're stupid mother fuckers. You get?

Ever hear of a dog cleaning up after they poop? A cat will at least bury it's excrement while a dog will... I shudder to say. A dog will eat it's own poop. Scientists say this was developed along the millions of years of evolution as a way of hiding their location from predators. Why if I were a pigeon hawk I'd snatch up old Pugsly and tear at it's insides and then regurgitate it into my young's mouth. Pugsly lay there dead with a smile that would be forever frozen in the pain of its existence.

That's a good dogey, dogey!

Pugsly recuperates then speaks to his Bitch Master.

“Bark.” He says all dignified. “Bark bark. Bark bark ruff bark ruff.”

The Bitch Master thinks this over for a minute or so. Then she turns that radish color bitches be getting when they all pissed off and such. She raises her big twenty four pound hand, ready to strike. Pugsly smiles dumbly “Gee George.” The hand that rocks the cradle also smacks the pug.

Fish sits atop her Bitch Master, pulling strings like a puppeteer. The Bitch Master goes here. Then there. As if held by some sort of master string. String theory. Now there's a wacky concept. Branes and strings and such. But back to the dogey. It was crushed under the weight of her massive fuck ugly hand. When she raised it to see the smashed dogey underneath, she was revolted to find that she had bounced back like an accordion. For this she gave her the Purple Heart. She pinned it to her flesh. Pugsly smiled stupidly and panted.

“Gee George. Stick it to me George!”

On their leather Jackets, the Mothers of Nature insignia is of a robin but with it's head cut off. It spurts out blood like a water gun. The head Cat, Drew, was a demanding and demeaning little ball of fluff. Where ever Fred Astaire, who only got to where he was because he was fucking one of the other higher ups in FRANK, Drew wouldn't be far behind, telling him he's doing it all wrong. He screams. His bitch master's china breaks. He is proud of his tantrum. Outwardly he looks like he has lost part of himself in the ensuing chaos. But inside he relishes it.

“I am far too handsome for this!” Says the eager young male intern.

The dogeys stop in their tracks.

Who was this Master Handsome? And why was he too himself to be put through this ordeal?

“The Bitch Master knows!” Fred Astaire tells Drew and the others. They all head back to the Bitch Master's secret lair. Which is underneath the apartment where I live. But pudgy little Pugsly smiles dumbly at their desertion. “Gee George.” She growled at an invisible woman. “Why'ja leave me George?” She bites at this imaginary Bitch Master and receives a fictitious bitch slapping. “My pimp'n hand is strong!” She likes to say, this invisible bitch master.

Immediately Pugsly wants a belly rub. So she rolls onto her back, belly and tits exposed. After about ten minutes of panting in the dry Colorado heat and dry humping an imaginary male pug, exerting her authority on him. Just like ever other bitch, she was a domineering little fuck pug. But after a close inspection of its inner merit we find an animal that literally is so stupid it thinks its tail is a foreign object. And for this we should care for the little fucktarded pug. For it definitely does not know how to take care of it's self!

Seriously, Pugsly could subsist only on her own poop for weeks at a time. What a fucking retarded animal dogs are. With cats you get cool biker gangs like The Mothers of Nature and FRANK. Vicious little bastards who need no approval from Bitch Master. Just her food and cuddles. Damn they were horrible rotten selfish little animals. And for this we give a cat scratched thumb up for our feline compatriots.

Pugsly runs into the Bitch Master's room and searches under the bed. She spots her chew bone right away and heads for it. She gets to it and pauses. She growls at the inanimate object as if it were a threat. Then she bites at it and accidentally bites her tongue. And for this she thinks the bone has bitten her back. She recoils in fear and scampers away on its fat little pug legs, whining all the way to the couch. There she rethinks her plans and decides to teach that bone who's the Bitch Master of them all!

She runs back into the room and does not stop in time, she butts her head on the bone. She shakes this off and then barks at his mortal enemy. It does not bark back. Because it's a fucking cow's bone.

She wraps her dogey mouth around one end of the cow bone and drags it out and into the Bitch Master's sleeping thingy. A room? She probably heard one of them say that to her a few times. But she lacks the consciousness to either notice nor compute this vernacular into the right neural pathways. Making her pretty much useless for anything but being fed, loved, and walked. The Bitch Master liked walking her. But the Master with the human penis. She'd seen it, but again, she lacked the processing power to notice. His scent always meant that he wanted to fight her. And when he came around she would put her paws forward and bow before him. When he still made that mean scent she went to plan B, She rolled over, exposing her belly and baby feeders. For a dog this is the equivalent of about the most trust you can get from a dogey.

He would say “That's right! You bow before the William Shatner of evolutionary psychologists you bitch!” The he'd pretend to kick her in the face, stopping only inches away. She winces and yelps in terror and the Penis Master is satisfied. He kneels down and pets Pugsly around the ear. “That's a good dogey!” And he starts rubbing her belly, which she likes just fine.

In all truth he really pitied the poor thing. How would she survive if he left her stranded in the mountains of Estes Park Colorado? Can you imagine any which predatory animal snacking on Pugsly's guts? A cat at least has a chance if it's not de-clawed. All a small dog could do is run up to it and for God knows why she runs up to a coyote expecting it to be friendly like the other dogs in the park. Penis Master hated bringing her there. He wished those stupid dogs would just stop being so stupid.

But Pugsly, does he love her? Maybe. It's getting there. It's really all he can have since the Bitch Master is allergic to cats. But she loves them anyway. She will suffer the consequences to love and cuddle them adorable kitty cats. But she genuinely loves Pugsly, so he can't do shit to it anymore.

A pastime of Penis Master was to thunk Pugsly on the nose and tell it how horrible it was. It would whine and grunt and when it barked he smacked her across the head. She started biting at him so he choked her until she passed out. He had actually thought he killed her and threw her out into the back yard. But to his surprise the fucking thing just woke up and ran back to him, panting and bowing before him. That's when he would kick it in the face.

The cats watched in amusement at the abuse in which Pugsly suffered. To them it was like the Roman games where the man would slay the beast. But not right away. You had to make it suffer to gain audience approval. After all, you had to put on a show. If you did poorly and slayed the beast yet the emperor wasn't satisfied, the man would be killed in another battle to the death. Or something like that. Point being that this was awesome for the cats to watch. They all purred with delight.

Then it turned out that the Bitch Master doesn't like him treating Pugsly like a football. No matter how puntable he may be. Saddened, Penis Master still weld immense power over the little dogey. He would throw his fist at it's face and stop inches from it. He would also pretend to hug it but in fact really be choking it. And for what ever the reason may be, Pugsly still tries to wag her curly tail and pants with happiness at the sight of him. If he would have treated a cat like that it would have avoided him. Intelligence, knowing when to get the fuck out. As was the case with Puff Puff and Fido. They were being abused by a big old bully named Gary. He was a womanizer and he hated cats for the same reason the Penis Master hates dogs. He saw them as awful illiterate little creatures with little value. He would hiss at Fido then try to make it cuddle with him. What a bastard, Penis Master thought, unaware of the underlying meaning of it all.

That David finally was rid of him soon after. Gary being the pervert he was wanted to go out and sample the local offering of pussy and pussy related activities. Little piglets like their pig porn too. He worked at a porn store until he was fired for showing up drunk and arguing with the manager. As to where his last whereabouts were, who knows. The broken hearted College Master figures he sold his phone for crack.

Most likely.

“Gee George.” Pugsly looks up at Penis Master sitting in his Lay-Z-Boy, smiling like a dumbass. “Why are you sad George?” He picks her up but drops her because she weighs nearly twenty five pounds. He hurts his hand. He screams incoherently at the wincing dogey. Then he kicks it in it's ribs and sends it clear across the wood floor. She stands up, shakes herself off, and sits there panting like an idiot. “Gee George.” She smiles. “I love the way you hurt me, George.”

Rufio Wallace and the Spoiler

 Rufio Wallace and the Spoiler

By: David McGhee

She looked up at her master and begged with all her cute little pugness for a treat. The man in front of her, her master, was a mean person sometimes. Sometimes he kicked her or pinched her skin with a needle. Just to hear her whine it seemed. It made him happy. But she loved him regardless. He was a human and humans smelled like good things to be affectionate with. The pay off was great (These things make nummy nummy appear in your food bowl twice a day!) and all you had to do was taste their face from time to time. Although she knew it wise to wince when a hand comes near her face.

The master smiles. She knows what a smile means. Either he's going to be a good master and let her have some of the ham he's eating. Oh holy cock of Christ that would be awesome!

Or...

He's going to be a mean master and choke her until her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Although either way meant that the man would touch her. Her skin tingled every time it wasn't searing in pain from his thumb pressed down too hard on one of her nipples. Petting a dog or a cat is always an attractive offer for Pugsly and or Fido and Puff Puff, their kitty kitty cat cats, because both animals have horrible blood circulation throughout their skin. So by rubbing their skin and fur it actually helps promote blood flow.

He always was a good master when he was with her bitch master, Shelly. He would pet her and hug her (which most dogs hate because hugging is a sign of dominance that a dog just isn't willing to share, but Pugsly, named so because he is in fact a pug, loved the shit out of. No kidding, one time the little turd bomber shat herself while Shelly was rubbing her stomach. It just felt so good that shitting was the only way to heighten the experience. It was totally lost on Pugsly that such ghastly pleasures she partook in dumbly, were so vomit inducing to human beings. Most people don't eat their own shit.) and talk to her in pleasant tones. She liked the pleasant tones. When they were more shrill that just meant pain was coming. Master Wallace comes to her and reaches out his hand and makes like he is about to smack her across her cute pug face. Pugsly winces and draws back at the approaching human appendage.

Rufio laughs. “You're such a good dogey dogey!”

That was it. Her mouth dropped open, tongue descended, and she started panting with happiness. She ran up to the hand and was taken back back the sudden smack on the nose, which is a punishment for any dogey dogey. But as for what she had been punished for... Probably not even Rufio knew. He just liked to see her scared. Pugsly whined and retreated back into the comfort of being under the coffee table in the living room. Rufio whistled and said “Here dogey dogey!” And fool me once, shame on you. Fool me three hundred thousand and seventy three times... Whatever. Pugsly stupidly smiled and ran back to meet yet another whack on the nose. She whined but before she could run away again Rufio picked her up.

“I love my kitty cats with all my heart.” He told Pugsly sweetly, who was now happy again because he was projecting his voice pleasantly. As far as she was concerned he could be calling her the worst dogey in the whole wide world, but when he said it with a sweet saccharine laced melody she was putty in his hands.

It's no different than French waiters making fun of you while you order in their stuffy restaurants, Rufio thought. He held the dumb pug in his arms and walked with him into the kitchen and then into the basement. Once down the steps he let Pugsly touch the ground. As always her fat pug stomach was the first thing to touch the concrete. It felt cold. She frantically steadied herself with a flurry of feet underneath her. He always carried her down the steps because she was too pudgy and too short in the legs to make the steps without rolling down the stairs. In which doing so would upset the bitch master, Sherry. She'd done it a few times before and just shrugged it off with her stupid animalness, but just to be sure he didn't have to pay some fuck nut vet to fix a broken bone he had been carrying her down since then. The thought made Rufio snarl at his wife's dogey. Pugsly in turn took the snarl as playing and she barked back. Rufio knelt down next to her and snapped his teeth. Stupid little Pugsly snapped back and barked once more.

Rufio laughed and put his right index finger in her mouth. She playfully held onto it with her teeth and tried to take it away from Rufio. He laughed again and took his finger back. Then he led the dog across the dark trash strewn basement. It was a mess due to the remodeling. It was in a state of half construction. Soon it would be his man nerd cave. A most awesome expectation!

He found the hanging wire for the light bulb and yanked it, spreading a warm phosphorous glow around the shadowy room. It was supposed to become a recording studio but with all the work Rufio had had in the past few years he just couldn't break away to finish it. Pugsly knew the twists and turns of the loose wood work by heart. As much as Rufio liked to torture the poor thing in small ways he would never allow a person to actually lay a hand on her. In some ways he had grown to love the stupid little thing. The beast that was all instinct and dumb dogey smiles.

If it would just stop eating it's own poop we'd be in business, he thought.

There was a secret door in the wall on the right side of the room. It blended in perfectly with the surrounding Stucco. It was here that Rufio had grown fond of bringing little Pugsly. She smelled the sweet aroma whiff through her nostrils. It was the tangy sweet aroma of burned flesh. So tasty. Humans always had (and made) the best food stuffs. She ran first before Rufio could even bring himself to step into the door frame. Her stomach was dangerously low to the ground. Rufio was disgusted by her obesity. Pugs can be such fat ass dogs. She ran down the small seven by seven hallway, made of brick this time, that led to a metal door with a key card reader on the side of it. Rufio walked up the hall to where Pugsly was waiting impatiently for him to open the door.

Rufio laughed and scratched her ear. She started kicking in response.

“Dogey dogey!”

He ran the card. The door's pressurized valves on its sides turned and the door opened with a hiss of decompression. Pugsly ran right in and right at the foot of a man who now only had three toes and immediately attached her mouth to his half burnt foot meat.

He was a tall stout young man of twenty six. He wore glasses like Rufio, but his were decidedly more pretentious. Whereas Rufio's glasses said “Man with a plan,” this man's said “Durh! I'ma hipster!” 2000 called, Rivers Cuomo wants his style back! Who had incidently been asked by Elvis Costello for his look back. But no one was a bigger dick about it than Buddy Holly. He acted all like he made it cool. Well... He did. But still. What a fucktard!

This man with the ironic mustache had been the biggest thing to hit the Colorado blog scene in years, if not ever. He had won a “Best of Denver” award for his online blog in the best of issue of the Westword during the last go around, and he was in talks with Spin about a possible profiling on Johnny Depp.

The problematic aspect however was that this man and his popular online blog spoiled movies and TV shows months in advance. It was in fact him who leaked that Ben Affleck may be the new Batman. And lo and behold! Fucker thinks he's Parez Hilton or some shit. Some think that he uses his trust fund set up by his parents to bribe studio people into yabbing or perhaps uses other means to secure scripts (Rufio wouldn't put it past him to suck cock) of shows and movies way before the general public has a chance to see it. That coupled with his harsh critique and reaching influence make him a bad person in the eyes of the men who had put Rufio up to this. But he didn't mind doing it. They even paid him a little extra to make his death as slow as possible. Which he planned to do with gusto. Because torturing people is fun and exciting for the whole family!

If only Shelly was a homicidal maniac. That would be so hot!

Rufio was a man who loved his work more than he loved caramel on cinnamon sugar toast.

And he was a man who loved his caramel on cinnamon sugar toast.

Rufio took out a Werther's hard caramel from his pocket. He always kept a few on him. And plopped one into his mouth. He then offered it to the naked mane tied up in front of him. The blond man was no more than a kid in Rufio's eyes. He smiled and offered it to him again.

“May not get a chance to eat before tomorrow when I come back down here.” Rufio said as he put the caramel on the table before him. The man's feet hurt the worst. Rufio had set a blow torch to two of his toes the night before (and just plain cut another one off for shit eater to gnaw on). Burnt them up nice and good. Little old Pugsly ate at them despite the man's insistent resistance. For such a small dog it was mighty vicious. This, May very well be why Rufio has allowed the dog to live so long. It was trying to wag it's little snub of a curly tail but just wound up jiggling its butt.

Rufio took a pair of pliers from his box of bloody carpenters tools.

“You should really sterilize that man.” The blond naked movie spoiling little cunt said with a quiver.

Rufio held up the pliers to eye level, letting it shine dully in the dim light. His lips crept into a smile. He bent down and took a bit of the man's blond pubic hair between the pliers' tips and tightened his grip. Then he yanked it out, leaving the underneath part of the skin where the dermis and hair used to be. The man screamed. His voice already horse from yelling for help despite being in a sound proofed room. Rufio held the bit of hair at the man's eyesight and laughed.

Pugsly chewed selfishly at the man's remaining toes, which were blackened to the muscle by the previous day's blow torch fun. Pugsly bit off flesh in thick strips. They tasted like a mix between bacon and and beef. Pugsly was totally digging the charbroiled taste as well. Dogs loved their carbon just as much as the next man. Rufio patted her on the head. She dropped the piece of toe meat from her drooling mouth and looked up smiling at Rufio, panting with excitement. Then it was back to business. Pugsly ignored the piece of toe meat before her and ran for some of the still bloody bits of foot that were stuck to the man's foot bones. It was cute how she playfully growled while biting the flesh off a screaming hipster. If only he could make that into a meme.

Rufio pulled another bit of pubic hair from the man's nether region. He cried out for it to stop but Rufio was just getting started.

“Please sir.” The man begged. “I promise never to blog about anything ever again!”

Rufio liked this. “Unless you have fifty thousand dollars I am afraid that I'm going to have to cut off your penis.” He raised a pair of cutting shears to the man's eye level. The man screamed.

“Please sir! I don't have that kind of money! Can't you just say you got rid of me and we'll never speak of me again? I'll move back to Florida and legally change my name!”

Rufio warm heartedly pulled out another patch of pubic hair from the roots of the man's top padding above his penis. He writhed in pain and kept trying to kick at Pugsly, who was seeing the moving foot as a toy that she could also eat, and was always brought back down a peg with his toe stumps actually hit the dog. They left bloody marks on the dog's black and white face, which she loved to lick from the sides of her lips. It encouraged her to bite at the tasty thing even more. She had no idea how much pain and torment she was causing this poor young man. As far as she was concerned he was a tasty friend.

It was times like this Rufio wondered why he had such a hatred for the stupid thing. In all prospects, they were the perfect pet. As long as you petted them, walked them, and fed them, you could get away with all sorts of horrible shit and they will just love you all the more for it. For those with no self esteem they probably are man's best friend.

Rufio picked up a piece of chewed burnt toe and wiggled it in front of Pugsly's nose. She panted happily and followed the toe as he went from left to right to left again. She licked her chops and barked.

“That's a good dogey!” And Rufio threw it across the room. Pugsly ran after it with great effort; she was a fat thing. If she'd been running on the hardwood upstairs you could hear her coming from the kitchen to the living room from the second floor. She grabbed the human appendage and made a high pitched and very un-scary growl as it tore into it. She bit it and rocked her head from left to right and back and continued that awful high pitched growl.

It pissed Rufio off. So he kicked the dog with only a medium of effort. Just enough to knock the wind out of it. It must have swallowed the toe whole because she started hacking like she was going to throw up. Rufio smacked her across the face and she took a step backward but still hacked. Rufio advanced on her and she turned around but whatever was caught in her throat was at the moment a touch more important than what ever punishment the master can dish out to her. She coughed and hacked and felt her head flood up with blood. It made a tremendous pressure on her face and she felt as if her cheeks were going to explode. The worst pain of it all was that now her head pulsed with her heart. She saw the world grow white and heard the distant bark of her great grand bitch “Toogles”. She was licking her privates and telling Pugsly to come towards the dimming light. Pugsly, being the stupid thing it was, mistook this advance and happily shat herself.

As the world drew away she barked and ran towards the light, which was drawing further and further away. How would she ever reach her great grand bitch now? She stopped for an anus cleaning then started running, but the light sped away faster and faster and then she was aware of nothing.

Perfect nothingness. Much better than being smacked on the nose.

Then there was a pressure on her chest and she coughed the bloody burnt chew toe onto the concrete floor. She felt her face flood with blood again and the whiteness turned back into the familiar black and white the world always was. She looked up at her master. He was saying something in those nice tones again. She felt herself grow fuzzy with that sort of stupid I don't care what the hell you are but I love you more than I love fried chicken feeling. He smiled and she smiled.

“Blah blah blah blah” She heard him say sweetly. Then she felt him pinch her ear. It hurt so bad. Oh why would master do this to her? Ouch! He just kicked her again. She wondered why she never did get the chance to meet up with Toogles. That would have been bitchin!

He said something and ran his hand all the way down onto her face, where it softly landed and spread around her head in a blood flow inducing petting. She loved it when master petted her. He did it hard like he really loved her.

All was forgiven. Now for some more tasty hipster man foot.

If I had a dogey dogey.

Dogey Dogey

By: David McGhee

They had a pug. His name was Alfred and he had the happiest little stupid face of all puppydom. Alfred loved to partake of the occasional trashcan, as most mutts tend to do. He would lick your hand and la di da. It's a fucking dog. I have a problem with dogs personally. They are stupid entities that have been bred into a state where they rely solely on human help. Most breeds can't hunt on their own like a cat could.

In fact dogs were originally domesticated because they would venture into towns and the townspeople would feed them, causing the hounds to come closer and closer until they had no qualms about having to mess with these wonderful beings with the delicious foodstuffs like bacon and birds. Alfred loved chicken.

For such a small dog Alfred sure knew how to raise hell. Like how I said that little pup loved to eat the fowl he also loved to kill and then eat the fowl. We all thought that Alfred would just bark at the chicken. Well he sort of did that. The chicken just started flapping it's wings and Alfred went immediately for the neck. That little bastard had the bite of a frigging diesel powered machine. Like a god damn deer tractor. I wouldn't be damned if the little fucker enjoyed himself either. When he was done shaking the shit out of the chicken neck he ran up to me and dropped it at my feet. If you've ever seen a pug smile then just imagine a self satisfied serial chicken killing monster dog. All ten pounds of chicken killing machine. I wouldn't trust the little fagot loving dog with my hamster.

Then again I wouldn't trust myself with a hamster. How long do those things live anyways? I could never get one to live past three weeks.

I took Alfred for a walk today and like any good dog owner I carry around trash bags so I can grab the poo for future disposal. It was on this walk that I learned that Alfred could talk. If I am remembering correctly there was a series or is still a series on the FX Channel by that name. But this was my Alfred. My little pug. My little bundle of fur, flesh, and stupid.

We were walking near Cheeseman Park when this tall scruffy blond haired dude walked up to me when I was watching Alfred at his worst. If I didn't know any better I would swear that Alfred was giving himself head! He did that a lot. So much in fact that when I asked my vet if something was wrong with him and he said “Eh... Everybody jerks off.” and left it at that.

One of the many awkward moments this dog has orchestrated just to spite me. I know I talked about dogs having a sort of stupid intelligence but this thing must be the Einstein of poop eaters. That's another thing that pisses me off about this fucking white fuck of fluff. If I don't get to his poo before he does then he will ingest it, then throw it up, and then eat it again. All of this takes place at my door every night.

He has lately taken to shitting on my door step. I can't say for sure but I think that maybe me kicking him in the kidneys for fun just might not be what the little fella is thinking of in a human companion. Little asshole. Once I started petting it and calling it stupid retarded names with a coo in my voice it started to mind my door step. It utterly amazed me that the little fucker could put two and two together.

Dogs scare the crap out of me sometimes. But the cool thing that I like about old Al is that even when he is trying his hardest to come off like a bad ass, he is still a ten pound pug. He's utter hilariousness and sometimes I get caught up in the fun and I punt him like a football. I want to try my pug out for the Denver Bronco's as the franchise's first ever living football. Just imagine Tim Tebow gunning his foot on a ten pound pug ugly son of a bitch? I can imagine it's stomach exploding with the mighty foot force of Tim Tebow's amazing legs. Sigh...

Tim Tebow is the kind of fellow I would love to see in a locker room. But I have no delusions of grandeur. I can take the idea of a six inch Tim Tebow. If the man is modest then all the more hurray for him! And I mean that. Because normal penises are well... Well they're just great.

El oh el.

Smily face.

That little pig faced son of a bitch. I know it was a son of a bitch too because technically all male dogs are sons of bitches. Because females dogs are called bitches? See how I did that? Hilariousness!

Alfred once found a pocket in the ground containing trace amounts of uranium. I shit you not! Little asshole just ate up the radioactive rocks, and this is not to say that he only ate the uranium specks he saw and left most of the regular rocks and dirt unscathed. It was like the little hash tag stupid dog just got the itch that could only be scratched by swallowing lethal doses of uranium. But to all of our amazement the little shit just pooped them out. He stayed radioactive for a few months after that but thank goodness he must have a good metabolism because he's no longer reading on the geiger meter. I mean any more than any normal living thing. I swear this fucking dog has nine lives!

Speaking of it swallowing things I swear this thing must have the internal plumbing of a fucking battery processing robot. Not shitting you, this little pug bastard ate and shit a battery. A double A battery. My dog Alfred ate and shit a double A battery. Beautiful.

“Fucking A!” My dog would shout at me. Oh yeah, remember when I said my dog could talk? Well he can. And he's annoying as fuck!

Imagine if a pug could talk slash bark his way into the American people's heart. I imagine that in some awesome Oriental country they would dine on a delicacy that is a pug bug stupid dogey. They would eat his righteous ass with teriyaki sauce. That smug bastard. Leg of some young chow. If there were any animal that should be eaten it would have to be man's best friend. Those things have an awful intelligence about them, as I have ranted on before, and they know that you don't like them.

But they don't care though. Because they know that by pooping on your door step and eating your third copy of Stephen King's The Stand is yet one line that has long since been drawn. You never have a cat doing shit like that. They know that because they know that if they fuck some shit up then theys are getting boots to their puss! Talking about an angry pussy!

Rowr!

Smiley face.

And let's talk about meat for the military, you could feed our starving troops over seas if we just take a cue from the Chinese. And I don't mean to sound racist but they really do do that shit. Just look it up. When the Beijing Olympics happened the government officials over in China banned the sale of cat and dog as an edible commodity. I shit you not.

Heard it from a reputable sounding site. Then again what can you truly trust on the internet? I mean come on! The most believable things you hear of nowadays are Onion headlines.

Right?

Yeah?

*Grasshoppers chirp*

But seriously. You may think I'm being racist but when the truth is awful to our uppity culture and is delicious on the other side, I tend to side with the deliciousness. If somebody afford me some barbequed chow I'd live to have a breast piece. Because chows piss me off and they be eating dogs. That's why they're called chows!

It's like some big fucking practical joke. But it isn't. And they do and would offer me Barbeque chow. And I would eat it. Because that means they would have had to kill the dog. I fucking condone puppy murder. But I would never hurt one myself.

What can I cay? I'm just a hardcore cat lover.

Either you're with us or you're not.

Although this little shithead is growing on me. Who knows? Maybe I won't eat my doggy after all.

David's William S. Burrough cartoon sketch thingy art stuff whatever....

This is Fucking Art

By: David McGhee

He paced back and forth until he wore out the shag on the shag carpeted office floor. Holding onto his chin, as if in deep thought, the doctor says “No! No! No! You did it all wrong!”

His assistant, a midget male prostitute, concurs. “You did it all the way wrong!” He eats a weed-infused tootsie roll and his eyes go back into his skull. “Soooo wrong.” The midget male prostitute assistant moans as he rubs his pot belly for good luck.

The eager young male intern shook his head side to side. His eyes, sad and with great gray circles floating beneath betrayed a depressive determination Surely they were mistaken? All his calculations had been correct. Or at least so he thought.

“I'm far too handsome for this!” The eager young male intern said as he looked at himself in a hand held mirror. He groaned and pinched a prominent pimple on his nose between thumb and fore finger, biting his lip to ease the pain of his dirty, filthy, pimple popping habit. A fierce cascade sprouted forth and blanketed the Doctor and his male midget prostitute assistant in pimple juice from head to toe.

The midget male prostitute assistant pulls out a hankie from his white lab coat, and they were all clean again.

“I am far too handsome for this!”

Next frame: Take two.

He paced back and forth until he wore out a gaping hole in the floor. One in which one could spy on young men urinating in the toilet or going number two.

Yeah.

I just went there.

Child porn mothafuckas!

*Studio audience applauds*

The doctor had ordered that the tests be taken again. His male midget prostitute assistant had nodded in agreement and said, with a heavily strained and lusty voice, “Do it again.”

The eager young male intern let out a mournful sigh. “I am far too handsome for this.”

Next frame: Take two.

“What have you to know about this situation here?” The eager young male intern, the autistic fuck, shouted as he slapped the white and brown bitch bulldog in the face with his bare back hand. It bit at him, but so far it hadn't gotten a bit by him. The eager young male intern, the autistic pee hole, laughed maniacally. “You will talk.” He said through his gritted teeth in a broken German accent. “Ve have vays of making you talk. Ve are good at vhat ve do. You vill talk... They all talk.” He fastened his seat belt and made it snap loudly, like Satan's whip. He pulled out a red card and showed it to the belligerent policeman as the officer put on his first gimp of the day. He immediately choked to death when his nasal passages swelled up in reaction to his latex allergy. One which he was unaware of before he got into the riding saddle.

The eager young male intern rubbed his hands together. “I know vhat I vill do to you. Puppy.” He reached out to pet the bitch bull dog but it recoiled in fear of another straight punch to it's adorably broken jaw. This pleased the eager young male intern. This pleased him a great deal.

Now he was getting somewhere.

“It is only a matter of time before you crack.” The eager young male intern squeaked when he said “crack” in that broken German accent. He slapped on a rubber glove. “Puppy.”

The dog winced in fear, but it did not speak.

The eager young male intern, That autistic corn dog, with his right latex gloved hand, slid his index finger up the bitch bulldog's vaginal cavity. Since his finger is bigger than a normal dog's penis, it's easy to say that there was some rippage. Blood dripped down his finger and down his hand.

That bitch bull dog shifted and tried to paw it's way out of it's unfortunate circumstance. But it did no good. The eager young male intern just petted the doggy, it sheilded it's swollen eyes whenever his hand came in for the pet. It pleased him in that strange orgasmic way you feel when you're torturing something so stupid and wrong. God had made a mistake when he made the bull dog.

A stupid, cell phone eating, book destroying, pill eating bitch of a mistake. They do not belong on this side of the living. This he saw to.

He twisted his finger and scraped at her clitoris with his long and sharp finger nail.

Still, it would not talk.

“Puuuuuuuuuppy.” The eager young male intern stuck his finger up as far as he could without horribly scarring the bitch bulldog's internal organs. Of course if some were injured the all the better, right? Sure, it winced, It bit, It shivered and such. But still, she would not speak.

Next frame: Take two

“Silence!” Yelled the judge to his corporate sponsored courtroom. “Does not one of you tell the truth!?”

“Fuck you your honor!” Screamed the eager young male intern, that autistic foaming at the mouth, in a rage not witnessed since the biblical times. “What's with all this... This... This randomness we have created!?”

One juror, a tall bald man, stood up and ripped off his shirt, a S in large chest covering letter tattooed on his upper body. “This ain't no fucking piece of art!” He cried. “This is a video of you torturing a white and brown bitch bulldog! Have you no decency?” He cried even harder. Holding his hands to his chest. “Have you no shame?”

The eager young male intern just shook his head. “I don't know. I'm autistic you see...”

And the dream melts... Into the next frame! Take two!

She was going to crack. He knew it. Just a matter of time now.

He had placed the bitch bulldog in the shower. His hand caressing the shower knob as he slinked around the bathroom floor, like a snake.

“Puuuuuuuppy...” He hissed as he turned the hot water nozzle on and over until it would move no more. The dog tried to shield it's eyes, it tried to seek a spot where there was no hotness to be burned into your fur covered skin, and it kept running into the shower's stone walls. The eager young male intern, That autistic genius, had shut the shower door. He was sitting, leaning against the glass, massaging the metal outlay.

“Puppy...”

But still, it would not speak. Sure, it bit at the steam around it, as if it could tame the fiery inferno of a device in which it's normal function was to wash away crotch rot. Anything can be turned into a torture device. He laughed to himself as it banged against the glass he was leaning against. It could find no spot that the shower head hadn't already been spraying. That bitch bull dog couldn't get away from the deathly combination of H and two oh. Killing stupid things since the beginning of time. Very stupid things indeed. It was trying so hard to get out. It was cute to watch.

“Puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuppy.”

The eager young male intern felt spited by such the stupid bitch of a bulldog. Such an uncaring beast. Have they no feelings?

He waited... And he waited... Then he waited some more. But still, silence.

“Puuuuuuppy...”

Next Frame: Take Two

“He was very silent as a child.” His mother said from the stands. She wiped at the corners of her eyes with a vintage Star Wars collectable cloth napkin. “The kind of silent you just don't like. I never did. Can't trust a silent man. And when he does starts talking, he won't fucking shut up I'll tell ya!”

“You don't say...” The judge yawned and looked at his watch. Surely she would finish her speech soon. Nothing this boring was worth this much time explaining.

Two of the jurors had hung themselves with their own dress shirts.

“Oh, it's very true! You see, I used to tell his shrinks that ain't nothing wrong with the boy, just needed a good ass beaten! Just like the kind you got when you grew up in a strong and proud southern baptist household. The kind that would knock a few teeth out. That's the kind of love that brings them back for more! Holy hell! Praise Jebus! But first you got to get them addicted to your bile. You got to make them co-dependent on your fluids.”

“You don't say...” The judge yawned again. This time he saw that he could see the top of that autistic fucker's mother's bust line. Her senile old breasts was good watching. God, it was great to be judge!

“He would take apart electronics but never put them back together.” She sneezed into the Star Wars collectable hankie. A thousand Star Wars fans just shat in their pants simultaneously at the sight of this atrocity. This affront to God! Praise Jebus! I thought he was going to be an engineer. I was so thrilled. But then he starts drawing you see. My father was an artist, so I could see him being an artist for a living. He practically won the 1996 Georgia Olympics' make a billboard contest that they had run in public school art classes around the state. But that just made him more agitated you see!”

“You don't say...” The judge moaned as he reached down and gave the Autistic Fuck's Mom his number. It was written on the back of a fortune cookie fortune in invisible ink.

They had all had Chinese for lunch you see. As if you cared for the tiny little details like that that so many authors put into their works. Pfft! What horse puckey! Everyone knows it's best when you go along for six hundred and sixty six pages and you still don't know a God damned thing! Ever hear of Lord of the Rings? Fucking Gandolf was a fucking hobbit molester! Betcha didn't know about that one. Or the one about how the elves were actually racist dick suckers and they feuded based solely on race? You wanna know why? Because Tolkien never wrote about any secret hobbit butt sex that Gandolf was enjoying on a daily basis. This was to protect Frodo really, he had the tightest ass of them all. Or at least so I am told.

“Oh yes. Why, he would go to school and talk about science concepts and mathematical theorems to all the boys and all the girls, all of whom just wanted to fuck and be popular. Young hormones you see. It was all the rage to have hormones rage in and out of body orifices. But not this one. Nuh uh! He didn't get out with the girls. But, to our relief, he didn't get out with the boys either. Sure he had a friend or two who happened to be male. But he had a million girlfriends, all of whom he wouldn't finger in the pussy!

“But we weren't wise just yet. Surely he wouldn't do anything to break our fragile little southern baptist hearts? Oh, it was magic when he got invitations to go over to girl's houses or whenever he got asked to the movies. We encouraged him in every way we could. Gave him condoms. Dental damns. Diaphragms.

“Showed him hours and hours of me anally raping his father with a baseball bat while he was tied to a chair with clips on his eye lids to keep them open. Ever see a Clockwork Orange? Neither have I. Fucking great book! Singing in the rain! I'm singing in the rain! Oh what a glorious feeling, I'm happy again! You know. So he would know what to do when the time comes. He comes home you see...”

“You don't say...” The judge sighs and plays with her asshole through the hole in the witness stand seat positioned just a cock throw's away from her face.

“and he rambles on and on how nice she was. How beautiful she was. And how he will never again in a million years go out with a female again. His reason...” She licked her lips. They tasted like Pringles. The jury was hanging on every word as one would from the end of a noose, another juror had committed suicide. “He didn't like to be touched. Not by anyone! It was horrible. Poor thing would become a pillar of salt at the mere touch of a baby Jesus. And this we know. Because our Mexican friend Pepe's baby was named Jesus. And he touched him. And I would be a monkey's butt fucking uncle to say that my own half of genetics turned into a pillar of salt.” A juror in a nice holiday sweat shirt shot himself in the head with a manly hand gun. Another juror booed, for a lack of better thing to do. “It's the truth I tell you!” She pleaded with the studio audience.

See what I did there?

Fucking beautiful wasn't it?

Next Frame: Take Two

The Doctor rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

“You're saying it would not speak under any circumstances?” The Doctor inquired as he pet the autistic semen stain's new pug puppy, supplied by PETA of course.

“No sir.” The eager young male intern stated plainly, that autistic involuntary liquid emission. “Finally gave up on the damned thing and put it in the microwave.”

The doctor dropped the pug head first on the ground and put his hands to each cheek. “I thought you only put baby in the microwave?!”

“Nobody puts baby in the microwave.” Says the eager young male intern, that autistic cum stain, as he puts on some cool Ray Ban sunglasses and tugs at his black leather biker's jacket. “Aaaaaaaye” He commands as he gave the Doctor, and his midget male prostitute assistant the thumbs up. Pretty sterile as far as mental patients are concerned.

The doctor waved his hands in desperate hopes to make sense of this sentence. “Stop being silly! This is serious!” His mouth was agape. “Way too serious for you!” The doctor was pointing at the clown over in the corner making baloon animals. He looked around the room and pointed at his clown self. “Me?” He asked. “Yes you! Get out of here you serious clown!”

The doctor turned his attention to the eager young male intern, that autistic pre-ejaculate fluid. “You actually mean to tell me...”

The eager young male intern, that autistic camel toe, nodded as he came a bit closer, rubbing his nipples as he approached.

“That you,” He took a breath of fresh methane and continued on. “an autistic mastermind...” He was holding a Macy's gift card. “Bedder of a million tall, hung young men...”

The eager young male intern, that autistic ovary mishap, nodded more as he came just a little bit closer.

“Are telling me...”

Another nod, another step closer. The autistic shit was breathing heavily. “Yes.”

“That...”

“Yes?” The eager young male intern moaned. His orgasm neurons ready to fire.

“You...”

“Oh God...” There was crotch gold to be found if you just rubbed it hard enough. But you have to believe. You just got to believe! You just got to believe in the father's cock, the son's penis, and the holy scrotum!

“Actually maimed and tortured...”

“I'm coming!” He shouted as he stroked his college degree even faster.

“A bitch bulldog...”

“Here it comes!!!” The eager young male intern, that autistic cup warmer, warned the doctor and his male midget prostitute assistant as the tension in the room rose from the cold ground like a fog, ready to burst.

“HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!” Somewhere, somebody was having a Dr. Pepper. And this just occurred to the autistic soda drinker... That is, as he slowly built up his kegal muscles in orgasmic anticipation.

“and...”

But it was too late. The eager young male intern, that autistic horn dog, had shot nothing but blanks. There had been loud firing sounds, but no shells were left on the floor. It was as if some mad man had come into the diner and shot up the place with a marshmallow gun. Brains stuck to the walls like syrup on a bare hairy nipple. The kind you like to pour on your chest during the best parts of the Rachel Ray Show.

The doctor sighed as he wrote something on his little doctor pad thingy, as doctor's are prone to do.. “It's just as I figured.” He shook his head. “Might as well be a good thing this here young man likes the cock.”

The midget male prostitute assistant nodded in agreement. “Yes. He loves the cock.” He added seriously. As stated before. This was no time for no clowns. Yet they keep popping up like HIV infected cock-roaches. Cock as in penis and roach as in the little piece of blunt you have left after you smoked it into an infinitesimal piece of doobie. What we geometry enthusiasts would to call a point.

The eager young male intern shuddered in the coldness of the room. He was stark naked. How'd that happen? Wasn't he just clothed in warm sweaters and roomy cargo pants and boxers that had math equations on them. No. He was naked. How crazy is this? Totally random I bet. Still not convinced? No? Well... He was now naked in front of two grown men, doctors in their own right, who've seen a bajillion penises before and will probably see a bajillion more before they retire, he covered his shame. “Oh curse thine Gods with my six to seven inches!” His hands did not betray the genitals they covered.

The naked eager young male intern grinned with rueful pride. A light lit in an otherwise dark, dark world. “I...” He rubbed his nipples. “Love...”

The doctor and his midget male prostitute assistant nodded, stroking their baby makers.

“The...”

“Oh my God?” The doctor shouted. “Had we succeeded in making him believe in the lie!”

“COCK!” And the the eager young male intern spit in his father's face.

“I'm gay Dad!” The autistic pile of poop declared. He and his father enjoyed a sweet, hallmarky moment involving num-chucks and a great quantity of corn syrup. But after all was said and done, he supposed he loved the old homophobe after all.

El oh el smiley face..

The Doctor wrote something down in his little doctor note thingy, as doctors tend to do.

Next Frame: Scene two

The autistic bastard's lawyer had shown up early that day, ready to rumble. He even brought his boxing gloves just in case. No... Seriously, the dude fucking brought boxing gloves with him to court. The red kind you see in the movies! How hardcore is that!? I'm soooo going to get me an attorney like that, the autistic kitty cat explosion thought to himself. I bet if they made a reality show about lawyers doing real and staged trials as they battled it out Mad Max style, they could make millions.

First I have to patent this idea.

How can you patent an idea?

Einstein would know. He used to be a patent clerk before he fell victim to the hair style of the times. He said he could not authorize said transaction. Einstein then proceeded to steal my idea, and make relativity, relatively cheap. Damn Asians can make anything cheaper than we can! All we do is import and export art, and this ain't no fucking art! Einstein is ashamed of you for even thinking such a thing!

Although it's weird fucking shit when you think about it for a second. The eager young male intern winked in the little autistic dump's direction, lest they know that they are really two of the same man. Dissociative personality disorder you know. Thinks he's up to fifteen different diagnoses at one time.

The judge was massaging the big black throbbing penis beneath his judging robe. Really, it's better if the children didn't have to watch this filth. They experience enough on a day by day basis already. Things like big... Throbbing... Pug puppies.

“I object!” Screamed the state prosecutor in a lusty rage. This broke the autistic fuck's train of thought. How dare he... Doesn't he know that ruining the dream of such a short young man would disturb the blissful state he's been building around himself like a frozen pop igloo. It's worse than being on the nod and having the bastard doctors, with their bastard needles, give you their bastard Narcan right up the fucking right hand vein. It's like getting your chest caved in by a six seven master basketball player. Sticking his size sixteens in his narrow ass. Your lungs deflate and your skin tries to run away from you're body so it can go out and buy more junk. If it succeeds, then it never returns to its original box.

“Object to what?” The autistic diddle's lawyer asked, punching the air with his hardcore boxing gloves, letting the judge know who to fave with a wink of an eye and a piss of a penis. The judge tugged at his collar and made an “Ee, Eee, Eeee, Eeeee.” sound.

The autistic nuts and honey, he just sat back and smiled. “I'm far too handsome for this!”

The jury was hung! All of them, abnormally large penises!

“You're honor?” The autistic fecal matter's lawyer approached the bench. “If I may, could I be hostile to the witness?”

The judge swallowed. Knowing what this meant. If it hadn't already then he was sure it would. Because it did what it would if a wood chuck could chuck wood. And this I swear.

The autistic sperm and egg's lawyer throws a banana cream pie square in the doctor's face (because such was the style at the time).

“The individual...” The doctor, and when I say doctor I mean a REAL doctor. The one wiping banana crème off his face. I'm just letting you know this because that other doctor you saw in the video ladies and gentleman is a phony. Just a shit on his after birth junk sick phony. It was all just make believe to piss off the establishment. This film... This piece of art. This piece of fucking ART! The doctor thought proudly. He was going to be the deciding factor in this case. He would sway the jury to the highest bidder and milk it all later with a book deal. A best seller if I ever smelled one. “The individual will go on and on for hours about his special interest. In this film you have just scene. Is it art? Is it vulgar? Is it random? Perhaps. One thing it doesn't have...” The doctor drew up his ghost busting ray gun and zapped the autistic individual's head. It made a clicking sound. The kind that you hear when a seizure is coming on. All the kids have them now a days. All the rage.

“Too many CBDs in that one...” One female juror, fat from eating the water bugs that clung to the side of the boats, AKA: lobsters, wept at the very sight of her husband's one inch micro penis.

The doctor focused on the ray beam that was streaming information back from the autistic scum's head and into his own. “I see...” The doctor said sympathetically, all the happiness and life drained from his once beauty model face. “He wants to say that he is sorry for all the shit he's done over the years. The cruelty to frogs and monkeys, well that was just icing on the carrot cake of life. I promise it was microwaved under strict supervision of the ASPCA.

“But I digress.” The autistic cumquat digressed. He held out his arms as if someone should pity him so much as to fill his hands with candy. “That is so typical of me to chicken out. That is so typical of me...”

The jurors who were not already bored to death self strangulated themselves.

It was absolutely riveting prime time TV!

“That I may walk among you Gods of this hipster scene. I just want to let you know that I turn the other cheek. After all is said and done, if you were my friend, you'd beat me up again.

“El oh el, Smiley face.”

The judge pounded his gavel in orgasmic lust.

“I may have been raised a Georgia hick...” Someone in the studio audience hissed. Somebody was about to get hung son! “But I am the true idiot Colorado.” The eager young male intern, This is my home. And you shit in homes. I know I do. And sometimes shit gets around the lid's edges and everyone fucking knows it was you who put that shit stain there. Sure... You try to use some toilet paper to wipe it away, but it won't go away because it's shit, and shit does shit like this and you feel like shitty eating shit contests with three bilingual co-eds.”

While the theatrics went on on-stange and random psychic phenomenon that made one feel as if there had been a disturbance in the force, the true comedy was on the courtroom floor. After only three throws and a right from behind to the kidneys, the state's attorney fell over and died, leaving no one to prosecute the case. Because you see. When there ain't no one to prosecute a case, the victim gets off Scot-free!

However if one happened to die while on the pot, another one would grow back in its place. This weed allegory is not only quietly brilliant, it is also sound science. But before another state prosecutor could feed off of the nutrients in the soil so that it could point it's hefty finger of justice, the autistic shit's attorney sprayed Weed-Be-Gone on the roots. And wouldn't you know it, the plant that the state prosecuting attorney had been riding the coat tails of had failed to grow again. Leaving a large and unfilled hole in our legal system. A gaping hole that no one could ever fill. Nope. No one. At least not for this story anyways.

The doctor's head exploded into a storm of confetti that blew dicks from across the room during the process of extracting more information from the cum stained sock that was this autistic boy's face. As they say, you can never have too much information, but in this case it was too much information. How about that? Mused the judge.

Sometimes you just had to think outside the taco...

“Case dismissed!” The Judge shouted as he shot up from his chair and par-keyed over the podium and onto the wooden paneled floor. With a salt shaker in one hand and some nachos the other, he was finally a happy man. “As long as you don't cross the street at an angle, you're on unsupervised probation until December eighteenth at eight am in the morning.”

The courtroom erupted with applause and silly string was strung and the gay men did their gay homo gay thing Over in the smoking section of the courtroom. The spot filled with desperate housewives trying to get a TV deal. That's where gay people go all gay and be really gay.

As for the eager young male intern, this walking autistic mammogram, he walked down the courthouse's staircase just outside of the front door where he was accosted by a throng of throbbing journalists. Hard hitting news this be, said they, despite their best efforts to get him down, he was pretty happy with himself for once. And everyone knows that once your happy with yourself, that's when the real trouble starts. Frowny face.

The reporters. They asked “Why did you do it?”

The autistic boy bent over and let his asshole do the talking. “Because this is fucking Art!”

The journalists and psychiatrists scribbled feverishly on their journalist and psychiatrist notebooks. Surely this was the news of the century! Art so hardcore that it will flavor your coffee with half the fat of normal bullshit!

The autistic after birth tilted his his head and looked to the sky.

“Is this fucking art?” He pondered. “Or am I having a stroke?”This is Fucking Art

By: David McGhee

He paced back and forth until he wore out the shag on the shag carpeted office floor. Holding onto his chin, as if in deep thought, the doctor says “No! No! No! You did it all wrong!”

His assistant, a midget male prostitute, concurs. “You did it all the way wrong!” He eats a weed-infused tootsie roll and his eyes go back into his skull. “Soooo wrong.” The midget male prostitute assistant moans as he rubs his pot belly for good luck.

The eager young male intern shook his head side to side. His eyes, sad and with great gray circles floating beneath betrayed a depressive determination Surely they were mistaken? All his calculations had been correct. Or at least so he thought.

“I'm far too handsome for this!” The eager young male intern said as he looked at himself in a hand held mirror. He groaned and pinched a prominent pimple on his nose between thumb and fore finger, biting his lip to ease the pain of his dirty, filthy, pimple popping habit. A fierce cascade sprouted forth and blanketed the Doctor and his male midget prostitute assistant in pimple juice from head to toe.

The midget male prostitute assistant pulls out a hankie from his white lab coat, and they were all clean again.

“I am far too handsome for this!”

Next frame: Take two.

He paced back and forth until he wore out a gaping hole in the floor. One in which one could spy on young men urinating in the toilet or going number two.

Yeah.

I just went there.

Child porn mothafuckas!

*Studio audience applauds*

The doctor had ordered that the tests be taken again. His male midget prostitute assistant had nodded in agreement and said, with a heavily strained and lusty voice, “Do it again.”

The eager young male intern let out a mournful sigh. “I am far too handsome for this.”

Next frame: Take two.

“What have you to know about this situation here?” The eager young male intern, the autistic fuck, shouted as he slapped the white and brown bitch bulldog in the face with his bare back hand. It bit at him, but so far it hadn't gotten a bit by him. The eager young male intern, the autistic pee hole, laughed maniacally. “You will talk.” He said through his gritted teeth in a broken German accent. “Ve have vays of making you talk. Ve are good at vhat ve do. You vill talk... They all talk.” He fastened his seat belt and made it snap loudly, like Satan's whip. He pulled out a red card and showed it to the belligerent policeman as the officer put on his first gimp of the day. He immediately choked to death when his nasal passages swelled up in reaction to his latex allergy. One which he was unaware of before he got into the riding saddle.

The eager young male intern rubbed his hands together. “I know vhat I vill do to you. Puppy.” He reached out to pet the bitch bull dog but it recoiled in fear of another straight punch to it's adorably broken jaw. This pleased the eager young male intern. This pleased him a great deal.

Now he was getting somewhere.

“It is only a matter of time before you crack.” The eager young male intern squeaked when he said “crack” in that broken German accent. He slapped on a rubber glove. “Puppy.”

The dog winced in fear, but it did not speak.

The eager young male intern, That autistic corn dog, with his right latex gloved hand, slid his index finger up the bitch bulldog's vaginal cavity. Since his finger is bigger than a normal dog's penis, it's easy to say that there was some rippage. Blood dripped down his finger and down his hand.

That bitch bull dog shifted and tried to paw it's way out of it's unfortunate circumstance. But it did no good. The eager young male intern just petted the doggy, it sheilded it's swollen eyes whenever his hand came in for the pet. It pleased him in that strange orgasmic way you feel when you're torturing something so stupid and wrong. God had made a mistake when he made the bull dog.

A stupid, cell phone eating, book destroying, pill eating bitch of a mistake. They do not belong on this side of the living. This he saw to.

He twisted his finger and scraped at her clitoris with his long and sharp finger nail.

Still, it would not talk.

“Puuuuuuuuuppy.” The eager young male intern stuck his finger up as far as he could without horribly scarring the bitch bulldog's internal organs. Of course if some were injured the all the better, right? Sure, it winced, It bit, It shivered and such. But still, she would not speak.

Next frame: Take two

“Silence!” Yelled the judge to his corporate sponsored courtroom. “Does not one of you tell the truth!?”

“Fuck you your honor!” Screamed the eager young male intern, that autistic foaming at the mouth, in a rage not witnessed since the biblical times. “What's with all this... This... This randomness we have created!?”

One juror, a tall bald man, stood up and ripped off his shirt, a S in large chest covering letter tattooed on his upper body. “This ain't no fucking piece of art!” He cried. “This is a video of you torturing a white and brown bitch bulldog! Have you no decency?” He cried even harder. Holding his hands to his chest. “Have you no shame?”

The eager young male intern just shook his head. “I don't know. I'm autistic you see...”

And the dream melts... Into the next frame! Take two!

She was going to crack. He knew it. Just a matter of time now.

He had placed the bitch bulldog in the shower. His hand caressing the shower knob as he slinked around the bathroom floor, like a snake.

“Puuuuuuuppy...” He hissed as he turned the hot water nozzle on and over until it would move no more. The dog tried to shield it's eyes, it tried to seek a spot where there was no hotness to be burned into your fur covered skin, and it kept running into the shower's stone walls. The eager young male intern, That autistic genius, had shut the shower door. He was sitting, leaning against the glass, massaging the metal outlay.

“Puppy...”

But still, it would not speak. Sure, it bit at the steam around it, as if it could tame the fiery inferno of a device in which it's normal function was to wash away crotch rot. Anything can be turned into a torture device. He laughed to himself as it banged against the glass he was leaning against. It could find no spot that the shower head hadn't already been spraying. That bitch bull dog couldn't get away from the deathly combination of H and two oh. Killing stupid things since the beginning of time. Very stupid things indeed. It was trying so hard to get out. It was cute to watch.

“Puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuppy.”

The eager young male intern felt spited by such the stupid bitch of a bulldog. Such an uncaring beast. Have they no feelings?

He waited... And he waited... Then he waited some more. But still, silence.

“Puuuuuuppy...”

Next Frame: Take Two

“He was very silent as a child.” His mother said from the stands. She wiped at the corners of her eyes with a vintage Star Wars collectable cloth napkin. “The kind of silent you just don't like. I never did. Can't trust a silent man. And when he does starts talking, he won't fucking shut up I'll tell ya!”

“You don't say...” The judge yawned and looked at his watch. Surely she would finish her speech soon. Nothing this boring was worth this much time explaining.

Two of the jurors had hung themselves with their own dress shirts.

“Oh, it's very true! You see, I used to tell his shrinks that ain't nothing wrong with the boy, just needed a good ass beaten! Just like the kind you got when you grew up in a strong and proud southern baptist household. The kind that would knock a few teeth out. That's the kind of love that brings them back for more! Holy hell! Praise Jebus! But first you got to get them addicted to your bile. You got to make them co-dependent on your fluids.”

“You don't say...” The judge yawned again. This time he saw that he could see the top of that autistic fucker's mother's bust line. Her senile old breasts was good watching. God, it was great to be judge!

“He would take apart electronics but never put them back together.” She sneezed into the Star Wars collectable hankie. A thousand Star Wars fans just shat in their pants simultaneously at the sight of this atrocity. This affront to God! Praise Jebus! I thought he was going to be an engineer. I was so thrilled. But then he starts drawing you see. My father was an artist, so I could see him being an artist for a living. He practically won the 1996 Georgia Olympics' make a billboard contest that they had run in public school art classes around the state. But that just made him more agitated you see!”

“You don't say...” The judge moaned as he reached down and gave the Autistic Fuck's Mom his number. It was written on the back of a fortune cookie fortune in invisible ink.

They had all had Chinese for lunch you see. As if you cared for the tiny little details like that that so many authors put into their works. Pfft! What horse puckey! Everyone knows it's best when you go along for six hundred and sixty six pages and you still don't know a God damned thing! Ever hear of Lord of the Rings? Fucking Gandolf was a fucking hobbit molester! Betcha didn't know about that one. Or the one about how the elves were actually racist dick suckers and they feuded based solely on race? You wanna know why? Because Tolkien never wrote about any secret hobbit butt sex that Gandolf was enjoying on a daily basis. This was to protect Frodo really, he had the tightest ass of them all. Or at least so I am told.

“Oh yes. Why, he would go to school and talk about science concepts and mathematical theorems to all the boys and all the girls, all of whom just wanted to fuck and be popular. Young hormones you see. It was all the rage to have hormones rage in and out of body orifices. But not this one. Nuh uh! He didn't get out with the girls. But, to our relief, he didn't get out with the boys either. Sure he had a friend or two who happened to be male. But he had a million girlfriends, all of whom he wouldn't finger in the pussy!

“But we weren't wise just yet. Surely he wouldn't do anything to break our fragile little southern baptist hearts? Oh, it was magic when he got invitations to go over to girl's houses or whenever he got asked to the movies. We encouraged him in every way we could. Gave him condoms. Dental damns. Diaphragms.

“Showed him hours and hours of me anally raping his father with a baseball bat while he was tied to a chair with clips on his eye lids to keep them open. Ever see a Clockwork Orange? Neither have I. Fucking great book! Singing in the rain! I'm singing in the rain! Oh what a glorious feeling, I'm happy again! You know. So he would know what to do when the time comes. He comes home you see...”

“You don't say...” The judge sighs and plays with her asshole through the hole in the witness stand seat positioned just a cock throw's away from her face.

“and he rambles on and on how nice she was. How beautiful she was. And how he will never again in a million years go out with a female again. His reason...” She licked her lips. They tasted like Pringles. The jury was hanging on every word as one would from the end of a noose, another juror had committed suicide. “He didn't like to be touched. Not by anyone! It was horrible. Poor thing would become a pillar of salt at the mere touch of a baby Jesus. And this we know. Because our Mexican friend Pepe's baby was named Jesus. And he touched him. And I would be a monkey's butt fucking uncle to say that my own half of genetics turned into a pillar of salt.” A juror in a nice holiday sweat shirt shot himself in the head with a manly hand gun. Another juror booed, for a lack of better thing to do. “It's the truth I tell you!” She pleaded with the studio audience.

See what I did there?

Fucking beautiful wasn't it?

Next Frame: Take Two

The Doctor rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

“You're saying it would not speak under any circumstances?” The Doctor inquired as he pet the autistic semen stain's new pug puppy, supplied by PETA of course.

“No sir.” The eager young male intern stated plainly, that autistic involuntary liquid emission. “Finally gave up on the damned thing and put it in the microwave.”

The doctor dropped the pug head first on the ground and put his hands to each cheek. “I thought you only put baby in the microwave?!”

“Nobody puts baby in the microwave.” Says the eager young male intern, that autistic cum stain, as he puts on some cool Ray Ban sunglasses and tugs at his black leather biker's jacket. “Aaaaaaaye” He commands as he gave the Doctor, and his midget male prostitute assistant the thumbs up. Pretty sterile as far as mental patients are concerned.

The doctor waved his hands in desperate hopes to make sense of this sentence. “Stop being silly! This is serious!” His mouth was agape. “Way too serious for you!” The doctor was pointing at the clown over in the corner making baloon animals. He looked around the room and pointed at his clown self. “Me?” He asked. “Yes you! Get out of here you serious clown!”

The doctor turned his attention to the eager young male intern, that autistic pre-ejaculate fluid. “You actually mean to tell me...”

The eager young male intern, that autistic camel toe, nodded as he came a bit closer, rubbing his nipples as he approached.

“That you,” He took a breath of fresh methane and continued on. “an autistic mastermind...” He was holding a Macy's gift card. “Bedder of a million tall, hung young men...”

The eager young male intern, that autistic ovary mishap, nodded more as he came just a little bit closer.

“Are telling me...”

Another nod, another step closer. The autistic shit was breathing heavily. “Yes.”

“That...”

“Yes?” The eager young male intern moaned. His orgasm neurons ready to fire.

“You...”

“Oh God...” There was crotch gold to be found if you just rubbed it hard enough. But you have to believe. You just got to believe! You just got to believe in the father's cock, the son's penis, and the holy scrotum!

“Actually maimed and tortured...”

“I'm coming!” He shouted as he stroked his college degree even faster.

“A bitch bulldog...”

“Here it comes!!!” The eager young male intern, that autistic cup warmer, warned the doctor and his male midget prostitute assistant as the tension in the room rose from the cold ground like a fog, ready to burst.

“HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!” Somewhere, somebody was having a Dr. Pepper. And this just occurred to the autistic soda drinker... That is, as he slowly built up his kegal muscles in orgasmic anticipation.

“and...”

But it was too late. The eager young male intern, that autistic horn dog, had shot nothing but blanks. There had been loud firing sounds, but no shells were left on the floor. It was as if some mad man had come into the diner and shot up the place with a marshmallow gun. Brains stuck to the walls like syrup on a bare hairy nipple. The kind you like to pour on your chest during the best parts of the Rachel Ray Show.

The doctor sighed as he wrote something on his little doctor pad thingy, as doctor's are prone to do.. “It's just as I figured.” He shook his head. “Might as well be a good thing this here young man likes the cock.”

The midget male prostitute assistant nodded in agreement. “Yes. He loves the cock.” He added seriously. As stated before. This was no time for no clowns. Yet they keep popping up like HIV infected cock-roaches. Cock as in penis and roach as in the little piece of blunt you have left after you smoked it into an infinitesimal piece of doobie. What we geometry enthusiasts would to call a point.

The eager young male intern shuddered in the coldness of the room. He was stark naked. How'd that happen? Wasn't he just clothed in warm sweaters and roomy cargo pants and boxers that had math equations on them. No. He was naked. How crazy is this? Totally random I bet. Still not convinced? No? Well... He was now naked in front of two grown men, doctors in their own right, who've seen a bajillion penises before and will probably see a bajillion more before they retire, he covered his shame. “Oh curse thine Gods with my six to seven inches!” His hands did not betray the genitals they covered.

The naked eager young male intern grinned with rueful pride. A light lit in an otherwise dark, dark world. “I...” He rubbed his nipples. “Love...”

The doctor and his midget male prostitute assistant nodded, stroking their baby makers.

“The...”

“Oh my God?” The doctor shouted. “Had we succeeded in making him believe in the lie!”

“COCK!” And the the eager young male intern spit in his father's face.

“I'm gay Dad!” The autistic pile of poop declared. He and his father enjoyed a sweet, hallmarky moment involving num-chucks and a great quantity of corn syrup. But after all was said and done, he supposed he loved the old homophobe after all.

El oh el smiley face..

The Doctor wrote something down in his little doctor note thingy, as doctors tend to do.

Next Frame: Scene two

The autistic bastard's lawyer had shown up early that day, ready to rumble. He even brought his boxing gloves just in case. No... Seriously, the dude fucking brought boxing gloves with him to court. The red kind you see in the movies! How hardcore is that!? I'm soooo going to get me an attorney like that, the autistic kitty cat explosion thought to himself. I bet if they made a reality show about lawyers doing real and staged trials as they battled it out Mad Max style, they could make millions.

First I have to patent this idea.

How can you patent an idea?

Einstein would know. He used to be a patent clerk before he fell victim to the hair style of the times. He said he could not authorize said transaction. Einstein then proceeded to steal my idea, and make relativity, relatively cheap. Damn Asians can make anything cheaper than we can! All we do is import and export art, and this ain't no fucking art! Einstein is ashamed of you for even thinking such a thing!

Although it's weird fucking shit when you think about it for a second. The eager young male intern winked in the little autistic dump's direction, lest they know that they are really two of the same man. Dissociative personality disorder you know. Thinks he's up to fifteen different diagnoses at one time.

The judge was massaging the big black throbbing penis beneath his judging robe. Really, it's better if the children didn't have to watch this filth. They experience enough on a day by day basis already. Things like big... Throbbing... Pug puppies.

“I object!” Screamed the state prosecutor in a lusty rage. This broke the autistic fuck's train of thought. How dare he... Doesn't he know that ruining the dream of such a short young man would disturb the blissful state he's been building around himself like a frozen pop igloo. It's worse than being on the nod and having the bastard doctors, with their bastard needles, give you their bastard Narcan right up the fucking right hand vein. It's like getting your chest caved in by a six seven master basketball player. Sticking his size sixteens in his narrow ass. Your lungs deflate and your skin tries to run away from you're body so it can go out and buy more junk. If it succeeds, then it never returns to its original box.

“Object to what?” The autistic diddle's lawyer asked, punching the air with his hardcore boxing gloves, letting the judge know who to fave with a wink of an eye and a piss of a penis. The judge tugged at his collar and made an “Ee, Eee, Eeee, Eeeee.” sound.

The autistic nuts and honey, he just sat back and smiled. “I'm far too handsome for this!”

The jury was hung! All of them, abnormally large penises!

“You're honor?” The autistic fecal matter's lawyer approached the bench. “If I may, could I be hostile to the witness?”

The judge swallowed. Knowing what this meant. If it hadn't already then he was sure it would. Because it did what it would if a wood chuck could chuck wood. And this I swear.

The autistic sperm and egg's lawyer throws a banana cream pie square in the doctor's face (because such was the style at the time).

“The individual...” The doctor, and when I say doctor I mean a REAL doctor. The one wiping banana crème off his face. I'm just letting you know this because that other doctor you saw in the video ladies and gentleman is a phony. Just a shit on his after birth junk sick phony. It was all just make believe to piss off the establishment. This film... This piece of art. This piece of fucking ART! The doctor thought proudly. He was going to be the deciding factor in this case. He would sway the jury to the highest bidder and milk it all later with a book deal. A best seller if I ever smelled one. “The individual will go on and on for hours about his special interest. In this film you have just scene. Is it art? Is it vulgar? Is it random? Perhaps. One thing it doesn't have...” The doctor drew up his ghost busting ray gun and zapped the autistic individual's head. It made a clicking sound. The kind that you hear when a seizure is coming on. All the kids have them now a days. All the rage.

“Too many CBDs in that one...” One female juror, fat from eating the water bugs that clung to the side of the boats, AKA: lobsters, wept at the very sight of her husband's one inch micro penis.

The doctor focused on the ray beam that was streaming information back from the autistic scum's head and into his own. “I see...” The doctor said sympathetically, all the happiness and life drained from his once beauty model face. “He wants to say that he is sorry for all the shit he's done over the years. The cruelty to frogs and monkeys, well that was just icing on the carrot cake of life. I promise it was microwaved under strict supervision of the ASPCA.

“But I digress.” The autistic cumquat digressed. He held out his arms as if someone should pity him so much as to fill his hands with candy. “That is so typical of me to chicken out. That is so typical of me...”

The jurors who were not already bored to death self strangulated themselves.

It was absolutely riveting prime time TV!

“That I may walk among you Gods of this hipster scene. I just want to let you know that I turn the other cheek. After all is said and done, if you were my friend, you'd beat me up again.

“El oh el, Smiley face.”

The judge pounded his gavel in orgasmic lust.

“I may have been raised a Georgia hick...” Someone in the studio audience hissed. Somebody was about to get hung son! “But I am the true idiot Colorado.” The eager young male intern, This is my home. And you shit in homes. I know I do. And sometimes shit gets around the lid's edges and everyone fucking knows it was you who put that shit stain there. Sure... You try to use some toilet paper to wipe it away, but it won't go away because it's shit, and shit does shit like this and you feel like shitty eating shit contests with three bilingual co-eds.”

While the theatrics went on on-stange and random psychic phenomenon that made one feel as if there had been a disturbance in the force, the true comedy was on the courtroom floor. After only three throws and a right from behind to the kidneys, the state's attorney fell over and died, leaving no one to prosecute the case. Because you see. When there ain't no one to prosecute a case, the victim gets off Scot-free!

However if one happened to die while on the pot, another one would grow back in its place. This weed allegory is not only quietly brilliant, it is also sound science. But before another state prosecutor could feed off of the nutrients in the soil so that it could point it's hefty finger of justice, the autistic shit's attorney sprayed Weed-Be-Gone on the roots. And wouldn't you know it, the plant that the state prosecuting attorney had been riding the coat tails of had failed to grow again. Leaving a large and unfilled hole in our legal system. A gaping hole that no one could ever fill. Nope. No one. At least not for this story anyways.

The doctor's head exploded into a storm of confetti that blew dicks from across the room during the process of extracting more information from the cum stained sock that was this autistic boy's face. As they say, you can never have too much information, but in this case it was too much information. How about that? Mused the judge.

Sometimes you just had to think outside the taco...

“Case dismissed!” The Judge shouted as he shot up from his chair and par-keyed over the podium and onto the wooden paneled floor. With a salt shaker in one hand and some nachos the other, he was finally a happy man. “As long as you don't cross the street at an angle, you're on unsupervised probation until December eighteenth at eight am in the morning.”

The courtroom erupted with applause and silly string was strung and the gay men did their gay homo gay thing Over in the smoking section of the courtroom. The spot filled with desperate housewives trying to get a TV deal. That's where gay people go all gay and be really gay.

As for the eager young male intern, this walking autistic mammogram, he walked down the courthouse's staircase just outside of the front door where he was accosted by a throng of throbbing journalists. Hard hitting news this be, said they, despite their best efforts to get him down, he was pretty happy with himself for once. And everyone knows that once your happy with yourself, that's when the real trouble starts. Frowny face.

The reporters. They asked “Why did you do it?”

The autistic boy bent over and let his asshole do the talking. “Because this is fucking Art!”

The journalists and psychiatrists scribbled feverishly on their journalist and psychiatrist notebooks. Surely this was the news of the century! Art so hardcore that it will flavor your coffee with half the fat of normal bullshit!

The autistic after birth tilted his his head and looked to the sky.

“Is this fucking art?” He pondered. “Or am I having a stroke?”