blargblog
An expulsive extension of
This morning I awoke to find myself naked and shivering on the floor of a large, cavernous aircraft hangar. From the dryness of the air I guessed I was somewhere in the California desert. (I would later discover I was instead just south of Las Cruces, New Mexico.) A bullhorn five inches from my face shouted me to painful awareness. I was surrounded on all sides by naked, pale men, standing in formation. There were a few hundred of us at least.
"Get the fuck up, peeg," ordered the contemptously Canadian dominatrix with a pistol to my throat. I scrambled to my feet and stood still in silence for at least fifteen minutes as the dominatrix surveyed her captives with sneering disdain, the clacking of her improbable heels reverberating in the cavernous chamber. Sounds of aircraft landing and taking off drifted in under the hangar doors. At last I worked up the courage to look to my sides. A sympathetic looking naked man with no body hair and a poorly rendered Calvin and Hobbes tattoo on his ass stooped in fear.
"Psst," I whispered to him.
"Fuck, man... You're going to get us killed."
"What do they want with us, Hobbes Ass?" I asked as quietly as I could.
A long pause.
"You collect comic books?"
"Uh, yeah... Why do you ask?"
"They brought us all in. Somehow they found out who jerked off to Howard Chaykin comics as a kid, they got pictures somehow, and brought us all in."
"What the fuck?!?"
"It's true. They're gonna kill us, man. They're gonna cut off our nuts and let us bleed to death like stray cats in an IHOP parking lot."
"OH, SHIT!"
Somewhere between the three hundred and thirty third dude getting his nuts cut off and the three hundred and thirty-fourth, I hid my balls in my ass crack and glacially crept towards the exit, pretending to be a dead Chaykin wanker with a case of the postmortem twitches. Four hours later I made it out of the compound in a discarded potato sack full of human eyeballs that two women in green overalls threw into a ravine that stunk of death. When the coast was clear, I made my way to the highway and hitched a ride back to Portland naked and covered with blood, but still in posession of my manhood, thank God.
I'll tell you one thing. I'm never masturbating to Howard Chaykin comics again. Not even the new Michael Chabon comic with the spanking scene in it. I've sworn that shit off for good.
Posted by J. Pinkham at March 25, 2004 01:07 AM | TrackBack