The Apocalyptic Holiday Parade

If you're unfamiliar with some of the characters that have been featured on this blog before or you just want to reacquaint yourself with them again to better understand the following heartwarming holiday story, just click on the following links and enjoy!

For another story about the mysterious Intenso, click here:

The Incident at St. Mary's

For stories regarding Asmodeus, click any of the following links:

Auditions For The Circus
Second Round of Auditions For The Circus
Asmodeus' Astounding Circus

For lovely adventures involving Toadie, click any of these links:

Toadie in "Happy Anniversary"
Toadie in "Road Rage Spectacular"
Toadie in "First Love"
Toadie in "The Christmas Trip" (Part One)
Toadie in "The Christmas Trip" (Part Two)
Toadie in "The Haunted Bordello" (Part One)
Toadie in "The Haunted Bordello" (Part Two)
Toadie in "The Haunted Bordello" (The Final Chapter)

And now, the final story involving all of these wonderful, fairy tale like characters.  

Brandon and his family are at his house, enjoying video games, talking about the economy and pulling food from bags.  The family pet is also busy, in the corner of the living room, licking his pecker like a lollipop.

Brandon just came from the grocery store with his Dad, Mom and dog, Skipper.  Then he, while putting a jar of peanut butter on the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet, heard what he thought was a marching band, just down the street.  Curious as to why there would be one, especially on this day, around Christmastime,
the twenty one year old man went outside the door, turned and saw what was coming his way.  Behind what was coming his way, was a cloud.

This was no ordinary cloud.  The was unique.  It was a deep crimson red cloud that was raining blood from it.  Hot blood spattered the ground and street below, erupting from the cloud in wave after wave.  Steam rose up from the asphalt of the ground and soon, even from where Brandon stood, he saw the blood was eating away the street as if it were acid.  Even the ground beneath what was once road was eroding into nothingness, leaving a wide trough of burnt dirt.

This cloud crackled with a horrifying sound that Brandon thought was a raucous mix of laughter and thunder. It scared away almost all of the animals. Dismembered body parts rained down from this cloud.  Detached heads busted open on the eroding, steaming street.  Arms, legs, torsos followed.

Trumpets made an earsplitting noise in the air.  At the front of the parade, sat the demon, Asmodeus.  The demon was sitting on a throne being carried by men, writhing in agony.  Asmodeus' tongue flicked out of his mouth.  He began laughing.   Intenso was by his side, laughing, while the band played a warped tune that began to make people come out of their houses, screaming.  While screams of laughter and pain filled the air, Intenso saw neighbors staggering out of their houses.

Brandon could see the neighbors' faces then.

The neighbors watched, filled with terror, as some of the participants of the parade were wearing the blood and dead skin of other humans.  Others had simply painted their naked bodies with odd human expressions and symbolism.

Dressed in black, the mysterious Intenso twisted his wrist, suddenly, and through sheer mind control, made the neighbors tackle each other to the ground and fuck like wild dogs.  Afterwards, they forced tree limbs into each other's butt holes.  They both howled and bled, profusely.  They wouldn't stop until they had torn each others assholes apart and bled out, almost completely.

"Tree huggers," muttered Intenso.

A neighbor dog ran up to one of the fat naked corpses on the lawn.  Blood was forming in large puddles around him and his wife.  They had just gotten finished with reading the local paper and suddenly found themselves in the front of their houses, fucking each other with long tree limbs.  The husband was struggling to breathe.  Abruptly, a huge dog, named Pippy, sprinted toward the man and tore out a piece of the man's gaping butt.  The dog, under the spell of Intenso, then ran across the yard, growling, with a slimy chunk of the man's colon in his canine jaws.  The man watched the dog run away with a meaty bit part of his colon, screamed loudly and futilely, then shit himself in a funny sort of way, before breathing one last time.

Intenso skipped forward a bit and began to sang, gleefully...

"Oh, Susannah
Oh don't you cry for me
For I come from Alabama
With a banjo on my knee."

He then turned to the lesbian couple and twisted his wrist again.  "Think you could "munch some carpet" for me?"

One of the women shuddered, seeing what chaotic, violent acts he had made the other neighbors perform.  Still, one of them stepped forward, bravely and said, "You can go fuck yourself."

Intenso smiled and then replied, while twisting his wrist back again, "What you will do for me is going to give me such a hard on."

It wasn't long before the women, under the spell of the maniacal Intenso, stripped off their clothing and began to push each other to the ground.  The smaller one hit the taller of the two in the face, knocking her out.  She took out a small pocketknife and was about to carve up her lover before Intenso decided their deaths would be more humorous if he tried his next trick.  Intenso curled his finger, forcing his supernatural powers to overwhelm the woman with the knife with thoughts that were more sinister than the ones she had before.

Everyone who witnessed what happened with the women began retching, violently.  Skipper the dog, ran out of Brandon's house and enthusiastically chowed down on the steaming piles of vomit.

Towards the front of the parade were baton twirlers, swinging human femurs into the air above and catching them as they came back down.  Blood poured out of their sockets in their heads where they once had eyes.  Their nude, emaciated bodies contorted, every so often, repulsing everyone watching them.  Their ribs would sometimes rip through their thin flesh, with blood spilling down their bodies.  They no longer had the will or strength to scream.

A huge balloon animal was pulled along in the line of the parade.  Even those that were lying on the ground, suffering from torment, looked at the plastic object and chuckled.

People heard Intenso, skipping along, cheerfully singing...

"I had a dream the other night
When everything was still
I dreamed I saw Susannah
A-coming down the hill."

By this time, everyone was out of the neighborhood's houses and apartments, in awe, of course, of the evil, disgusting spectacle being played out in front of them.  When a few people tried running back into their dwellings or attempted using any of their electronic devices, they were instantly incinerated by the power of Asmodeus.

When one man was almost able to reach his cell phone, about to dial the emergency numbers, Asmodeus raised his butt cheek, from where he sat, cut a huge fart towards the man and burnt his victim's off of his shoulders.

Women in strange green clothing, sat on the shoulders of merry men, while the muscular men had deeply planted their hands, then arms in the women's vaginae.  The women, oddly enough, wouldn't scream and only smiled to the passerby.  Some even waved, as if they were on a normal parade float.  Their minds, obviously, had been taken away long ago.

Brandon screamed at the living nightmare all around him.  Body parts were everywhere.  People were torturing and raping each other.  Scenes, too horrific to describe, froze Brandon where he stood. At this point, the marching band stopped playing.

Asmodeus, the demon, raised his clawed hand, signing to all the rest who were involved in the parade, to halt at his command.  With his other clawed hand, he had been munching on a woman's detached boob.  Quickly, he tossed the rubbery nipple off to the side like a discarded, half-eaten gummy bear.  The demon stared at Brandon, angrily and soon the young man was feeling himself slowly catch on fire.

___________

Four blocks down the road, Toadie and Valerie had just gotten married.  After several years of being together, making love and going on several adventures, they cemented their relation by making their love official and on paper.  They came out of the little church, full of happiness, ready to begin their lives as husband and wife.

When the newlyweds looked down the road at the carnage and the macabre parade, the mentally challenged man shouted, "Toadie is hungry for wedding cake!"

Then he farted.

Valerie looked at him, lovingly and held his hand, proud of her new husband.

Asmodeus turned his attention toward Toadie and instantly, Brandon's body ceased catching on fire.  His parents came running up to their son and extinguished little flames on his shirt and pants with their jackets.

In less than a second, Asmodeus was staring down at Toadie, sneering at the apparent fool.

Toadie looked up and giggled at the smoldering red behemoth.

Asmodeus snapped his fingers, without warning and caused Valerie to bleed out of her ears and nose.  Streams of blood ran down her face as she cried out.

Toadie stopped giggling.

Toadie cocked his head to the side.  Intenso ran over to see what the hold up was about, regarding the parade.  He thought everyone was having a good time, so far.

Intenso looked at Toadie and the demon standing toward each other, shrugged and to break the tension, the man cloaked in black garments began to sing...

"Old McDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O.
And on that farm he had some chickens, E-I-E-I-O.
With a..."

Intenso couldn't sing the rest of his verse because Toadie had quickly crushed the supernatural being's trachea and shattered his voice box with his right hand.  Intenso grabbed his pulverized throat with both hands, confused and unable to understand Toadie's surprising surge of strength.

Before Asmodeus could take any action, Toadie, with lightning speed, pierced Asmodeus' chest and pulled out the demon's black heart.  Asmodeus slumped to the ground.  Valerie, in that instant, stopped bleeding.

Skipper the dog ran up to Intenso and bit through his scrotum, causing Intenso to wail.  The dog shook his head, aggressively, clamping his jaws down on Intenso's nutsack.  Soon, Intenso's genitals were being escorted off the property by Skipper the dog.  The testes of the mysterious being slipped out of the dog's slobbering mouth and hit the ground.

The cloud behind the parade cleared up.  No more blood rained down.  No more body parts.  The sun came out and the street that was there once before began to reappear again.  People who had once died or were hurt, stood up, healthier than they were before the parade.

The stout, broad shouldered Toadie looked down at Asmodeus and said, "You're no different than any other tyrant.  You feed off of the fear of others.  You either secretly or not so secretly crave attention, fear and adulation from as many obedient people or sheep as you can gather.  If more folks like me took a stand and realized they had capabilities they didn't know they had before and were willing to stand up to pieces of shit like you, you wouldn't exist in the first place.  Love, courage and people using their minds for the greater good will ultimately defeat beings like you.  Oh... and one more thing."

Asmodeus was gasping for breath.  Toadie turned around, pulled down the pants of his tuxedo and farted directly into the demon's face.  Asmodeus coughed, choking on his own retched vomit.  The green, toxic gas ate the demon's flesh off of his face.  The demon's eyes bulged and melted away. Soon, the demon no longer existed in this realm.

Toadie threw the demon's heart high into the air.  Skipper caught it with his powerful jaws and burst the organ in his mouth.

Suddenly, those involved in the parade disappeared, completely.  There were no signs that anything had transpired during the last few hours.

Toadie looked at Brandon and said, "Nothing should be assumed.  That especially includes anything that breathes.  Strange, evil beings, such as the one you confronted, are different, in how they appear and the tricks they can pull off- but that is really the only difference between them and the puppet leaders and ruthless dictators of the world.  Sometimes, regretfully, you have to resort to violence as a last resort with these fuck wads or they will continue their reign of terror and their often successful campaign of fear-mongering."

After this was said, Toadie took Valerie up in his arms and took off in their white rented limo, toward the reception hall.  This would begin a new exciting chapter in their lives.  Together, in spirit and love, they would spend the rest of their lives, making each other as happy as possible.

At the reception hall, everyone drank bourbon, rum and tequila, singing and dancing.  Later, old friends would tell their same old favorite stories, smoked copious amounts of marijuana and had a terrific evening of fun and revelry.  It was an evening of celebration and also a time to reflect on what they could all do to improve themselves and the state of the world.

Everything, miraculously, had been set right again in the land.    

Paranormal Investigator and A Few of My Beliefs

I attended a lecture on a particular paranormal subject, at a library, almost a month ago.  That tells you about how much time, I've had, lately, to actually blog about something that interests me.  Most of the time, I have to deal with things in my life I'd rather not have to deal with- but that's reality for ya.  I pepper my reality with brief times of relief on Fartbook... er... Facebook, mostly, because commenting or posting on Facebook takes less time than doing a blog post.  To each his or her own.  :)

The lecture I went to was about ghost hunting and the woman giving the lecture belonged to an organization that has been around for a number of years and they have done a lot of investigations.  She seemed to know what she was talking about.  A large group of ordinary people had showed for the lecture and Q & A.

The lecture got me thinking about a lot of things that I experienced in my past.

I believe in ghosts and things that fall under the paranormal heading for a number of reasons.  I've talked about those reasons on this blog in the past but to those who are relatively new to this blog that I've been doing since 2007, my reasons, in no particular order are:

1- I've lived in a house that was haunted.  The entire family, our friends and even people we didn't know that well, saw and heard many unexplained incidents such as: chairs moving by themselves, laughter coming from our attic when no one was up there, the lights and TV going off and on, whispers of your name next to your ear while attempting to sleep, blood running down the walls, something pulling sheets off of a bed while you are attempting to sleep, black, smoke-like formations rushing past doorways, dolls' heads moving completely around by themselves, running footsteps being heard, coming up from the basement stairs up to the door leading to the hallway (when no one was there) and so on.

Some of this shit, that went on, I think I've purposefully forgotten, to avoid needless trauma.

If you've read this far without thinking me insane, wanting to mock me and everyone else who had to go through the shit we went through or wanting to debate me or point out how one or more things can easily be scientifically explained- then congratulations are in order for you.  Kudos!  It means you likely have an open mind.  Otherwise, if you're here to debate me or do any of the other things I mentioned above, feel free to move on to the next blog about how someone's kid and their latest "hysterical" antic that everyone is dying to know about.  Or something equally mundane.  I'm not interested and will not respond, as you would probably like, to anything contrary that you have to say.  I've heard it before and wasn't impressed.  We, meaning the dozens of us who went through the hell of living there or visiting there, know what we went through and tried "scientifically" explaining away everything that happened.  Didn't work.  End of story.

I might add... and I will...

The only thing more irritating and frustrating to me than an overzealous disbeliever in anything they can't see or explain is an overzealous Christian trying to push their faith down your throat.  Giving someone the benefit of a doubt is not the same as being gullible.  Either person who displays this type of behavior is showing their arrogance and close mindedness.  It's also a sign of someone who NEEDS to feed their ego to tear down one's ideas or beliefs with whatever well written malarkey that they can come up with.  Just because it is well written or that person has the last word- it does not make them right.   

2- My wife has spoken to the spirit of her deceased grandfather one night, while I was in bed and he gave her details about me that he couldn't have known, because he died three decades before I was even born.  I've had several relatives see and talk to dead relatives, whether they were on their deathbeds in homes or hospitals or when they were just standing around, not doing anything in particular.  Feelings of peace would usually accompany them while these incidents would happen.

3- I've also had some flashes or images come into my mind, while awake, of things that have happened.  Most of those things (images) were of trivial matters.  When these images would come into my mind, I would feel like I should remember them.  I don't know why that feeling would come over me but it did.  A month or two later and the image of the incident in my mind actually became a reality.

The one "picture" that I got in my head was of something that I didn't even know about or what it was and had never seen a picture of it before- until I was older, in school.  It came to me when I was around four years old.  It was a picture of a nuclear bomb going off.  Bright mushroom cloud, everything being caught on fire, vaporized and so on.  The whole bit.  It was happening, I figured out later in life, in the same direction where a major city, about thirty miles away from where I live now, is located.  I'm 48 years old and it is an image in my mind as horrifying and clear as it was when I was four years old.

4- I used to read whole decks of cards.  Didn't matter which deck or where it came.  They weren't in any order. I didn't cheat by marking any sides or had cards that were bent.  I'd simply look at each face down card, say what it was, suit and number, turn it over and it would be what it said I knew it was going to be.  Then I'd re-shuffle the cards again, predict the cards, again, correctly and then, one day, I thought to myself, This is too weird and I stopped doing it, altogether.

5- There is another thing I've been involved in, paranormally speaking, but I'm not mentioning it because it would take too long to explain and I'm afraid I'd get a lot of backlash in comments that I'd rather not read because, well, I've heard it all before and sadly, most people are predictable.  :)  I'm not saying everyone is, but, if you've been around as long as I have, you already know the truth.  If you'd really and genuinely like to know what #5 is about, I'll tell you.

These days, I don't have any predictive imagery in my mind.  Nor do I attempt to predict cards or attempt transcendental meditation.  That last thing I just mentioned resulted in something that freaked me out a bit, not in a bad way, but I'm not going to go into it, either.

The paranormal investigator (one of many ghost hunters, so to speak,) brought all of her equipment, including dowsing rods, an EVP recorder, an EMF meter and a laptop computer showing orbs (spirits) she and others had videotaped during their investigations.  Later, she shared information about a tour through a place where people, in a nearby city, had reported experiencing spirits one way or another.  She didn't talk about the future tour much, in case you're wondering if she was there to make money off the local town folk.  She was there to demonstrate how the instruments worked, how her own personal experience as a child got her interested in the paranormal and answering any questions that people had about ghosts.

Many orbs ( or spirits)

She talked quite a bit about how her personal experience with spirits and how it told about and shown on TV, through reenactments.  The paranormal investigator was interviewed about the full apparition she saw of a little girl named Nora, sitting on the floor in a room, upstairs at her childhood home.

The woman also was there to investigate someone who had died at the library she was speaking at.  According to the dowsing rods and the EMF meter, something was definitely there and it was communicating what had happened when she died.  For one thing, she used to work in the same old building a long time ago and she was pregnant at the time.  Ever since my sister and her coworkers had been working at the library, they had heard talking, from out of nowhere and had seen things move (on their own?) while being employed at the library.  It wasn't a malicious spirit, obviously.  It just wanted to be acknowledged.

On her laptop computer, the investigator showed orbs, like I said and turned up the volume of strange, yet clear, disembodied voices.

There was a teenage girl, who worked at the library, who had an experience on a ghost hunting tour, a few months back, who was not associated with the investigator.  She told us about how she thought a spirit from the place she toured had come back home with her.  She said she could feel "him" touch her arms, at times, and how it felt cold or like being brushed by spider webs.  This spirit, she said, had also displayed non-malicious behavior toward her but the investigator advised her that she should explain to the spirit that he was dead and should move on to the other side.  Her family, who had also gone on the same tour, also heard voices "from out of nowhere" and felt things.

The other side, what happens after death, call it Heaven or what you will, is also something I happen to believe in for a great many number of personal reasons, NOT religious reasons.

The paranormal investigator seemed pretty genuine to me.  I had an open mind about it because of things I and others close to me have witnessed and experienced.  Btw, I'm quite open to any of your own experiences, concerning the paranormal in the comment section, or if you'd like, through email or Fartbook... er.. I mean Facebook.

Supposedly, I'm supposed to get a nice pair of dowsing rods from the link I already provided, as a gift, from my sister, for my birthday, October 3rd.  I'm not saying I completely believe in dowsing rods but they may be of some personal good to me.  I'm not saying anything beyond that.

Take care, everyone! 

Asmodeus' Astounding Circus (The Final Chapter)

Ah yes, long time, no see, everyone.  But I'm here now, for the moment, to delight and enthrall you all with the long overdue ending to a short series about a circus.  If you haven't read any of the installments or even if you need to re-read these fine, literary masterpieces once again to jog your memory on the storyline and characters...  Here are the following links to help you out in making even the slightest sense of past and present events and be entertained as all get out.  Woo hoo!

Auditions For The Circus

Second Round of Auditions For The Circus

Ringmaster Gregario excitedly went up to the circus ticket booth and asked, "So how many tickets have we sold for the big show?"

There was a line of adults and kids, eagerly waiting to step inside the big circus tent and be seated.

Trixie, who had before been a bubbly, beautiful blonde college girl went through a transformation, of sorts, after the circus owner, Asmodeus, escorted her away after her audition, many months ago and took the twenty something year old back to his own private mansion.

Being a demon (a fairly horny one, at that), Asmodeus had mesmerized Trixie with his charm and evil influence to seduce the giddy blonde.  Soon, Trixie found herself taking off her clothes, revealing her perky breasts and shaven pussy.  The demon circus owner took Trixie by the hand and easily grabbed her with one  powerful arm and tossed her on the bed.  For three nights straight, they fucked without a break.  The experiences Trixie endured caused her to almost lose her mind, completely.

Answering Gregario's question, Trixie slowly looked up from where she sat and said, with slow deliberation and with menace in her tone, "The fuckers just keep coming to see the show."

Trixie giggled slightly, seeming to change in her mood, grabbing a big wad of cash and sales receipts from her cash drawer and thrust it up towards the ringmaster's face.

"See?" Trixie asked.

Gregario nodded approvingly at what he saw before Trixie. Without warning, Trixie viciously grabbed Asmodeus' most trusted assistant by the crotch of his black pants with her free hand.

"AHHH!" screamed Gregario, quickly backing away from the ticket booth and Trixie's grasp.

Several customers looked where the scream had come from.  This got the attention of a pack of red eyed wolves.  Asmodeus' personal pets looked up from the half eaten human skull they had been gnawing on and growled toward the attendees.  Gonza, the large muscle-bound Head of Security came out of the side of the tent and confronted the customers.

"We have a problem here?" asked Gonza, threateningly.

The customers shook their heads, showing they had no problems, but were still very obviously shaking with fear.

An hour later, everyone was allowed to go into Asmodeus' Astounding Circus and take their seats.

A troupe of clown midgets entered from a hidden side room, in a multi-colored vehicle, with a pentagram sign on every side of the car.  The car stopped in the center of the stage.  One of the car doors opened.  Soon, The infamous Blutarsky Brothers came tumbling out.  All of them had bulbous heads, had extreme toe fungus and were mentally impaired.  The crowd let out various sounds of surprise.

Ringmaster Gregario walked up to the center stage, in front of the family of disheveled clown midgets and cried out, into his microphone, "Ladies, gentleman and children of all ages, it gives me a special kind of thrill to present to you the most amazing acts you'll ever witness in your lifetimes!"

Gregario waved his hand and pointed to the clown midgets that had painted faces.  Some of them were crossing their eyes and shaking their heads.  One had a permanent smile on his face.  Luscious, the member of the group who had undergone a botched sex change surgery, courtesy of one of "her" brothers and his handy knife, in order to become a man, stepped out in front of his brothers.  Luscious had tiny breasts, thanks to hormone therapy and a couple of sewn upon hairless gopher butt cheeks, but the vagina of the clown midget was far from perfect.

Tension and anticipation filled the air.

Isa, the eldest member joined her son, Luscious, who was dressed in a small, sparkly pink tutu.

The old ringmaster handed Isa, the mother of the 7 performing midgets, the microphone.

Isa announced, "My name is Isa, mother of my Russian babies, the ones you may know as The Blutarsky Brothers.  Tonight, we will show you our talents and you will soon gaze upon us with wonder.  Watch and fill your ugly American hearts with joy!"

With that said, Gonza brought in a handcuffed and shackled blubbery man in a size XXXL sweatsuit.  He was sweating, profusely, and had a collection of bruises upon his face.  Gonza thrust the obese man on his hands and knees.

Ringmaster Gregorio took a flask of whiskey from his back pocket, downed a swig from it and put it back in his pocket before explaining into his microphone, "This man was found to be attempting to sneak into the circus tent without paying."

Gregorio tipped his big black top hat toward the man as the man groaned in pain.

Continuing, Gregorio said, "This man will be given something special for his efforts."

The fat guy whimpered as Isa and Luscious took their places.  Both clown midgets lay on their backs on either side of the trapped man who Gonza securely chained to a metal platform.  Luscious spread open her legs and pulled the bottom of her tutu off, slinging part of the costume to the side.  She had a tattoo of a snake on her cunt lip.  Isa took off her polka-dotted, over-sized clown pants and spread her legs, in unison, with her son.  A few moments passed before Isa's legs rubbed furiously together, creating sparks of fire.  Luscious mimicked her mother's furious leg movements. Meanwhile, a fast moving stream of fire, much like a flamethrower, came shooting out of their cunts as their tiny legs furiously kicked up and down.

In awe, the crowd was spellbound and became perfectly silent as the gluttonous man's head began to catch afire.  He screamed in agony.  Gregorio, Gonza and the rest of the clown midgets laughed, heartily.  In only a few seconds, the man was totally engulfed in flames, shouting for mercy and receiving none.  Soon, his crispy corpse smoldered for a moment before crumpling into a stinking heap of ashen flesh.

Gonza and Gregorio shoveled the victims smoking remains in a nearby metal garbage vat.  What wasn't completely crispy would be fed to the hungry wolves, later.

Nervously, the crowd applauded, fearing what might happen if they did not show satisfaction of the clown midgets' amazing tricks.  One man, however, showed no fear and announced his displeasure.

The man, famous for his many quirky and comedic movie roles, stood up and said, "I don't think that was right."

Gregorio put down his shovel and picked up his microphone. Into his mike, Gregorio inquired, "And who might you be to think yourself capable of judging what's fair and what's not?"

The film actor stated, "Steve Buscemi, that's who."

Gonza quickly retrieved him from the stands.  Buscemi struggled, frantically, and groaned in protest, desperately trying to free himself of Gonza's mighty grip.

Buscemi was chained to the metal platform, begging to be released, promising to give them substantial amounts of money if they let him go.

A clown midget named Jeepo appeared, did a cartwheel in front of the actor and completed an admirable back-flip, flapping his arms like a bird, before coming down head first onto the metal platform and bashing his head in, making a clanging, crunching noise that could be heard from the stands.  A pool of blood gathered on the platform as Jeepo moaned.  One of his clown midget brothers, Trotsky, came out, pulled down his pants and scratched his taint before dragging his injured brother off the stage.

Ivan, another clown midget performer, came running out.  Stretching his arms outward, Ivan stood still and shouted, "Ta-Da!"

Ivan turned around and looked at the chained actor in the middle of the stage.  The clown midget slapped his face, for comic relief and made a tiny "O" with his mouth to appear as if he was surprised at the actor's predicament.

Without hesitation, Ivan pulled his gigantic pecker from his neon green clown pants and pointed it toward Buscemi.

Ringmaster Gregorio asked the audience, "So do ya think Steve is going to have to do some suckin'?"

The audience collectively gasped.  Buscemi's eyes grew wider than they ever had gotten during the filming of his past movies.

Abruptly, Ivan took a firm hold of his meat sword and quickly shot bullets from his pee hole.  Each bullet went through Steve Buscemi's head as if it were made of facial tissue.  Blood and fleshy bits flew everywhere.  In a matter of seconds, there was nothing sitting on the actor's shoulders but a deformed pulp of bloody mush and some bits of skull mixed in.

The wolves rushed in, eyes red and glowing, and ate most of the actor's body, tearing his corpse apart.

Trotsky and another brother, Dragoff, came running out with their tarp.  Some audience members chuckled at the sight of their little legs moving so quickly.  Both brothers threw the tarp on Buscemi's disgusting remains and ran back where they came from, doing the occasional cartwheel, along the way.  Everyone applauded their comical antics.  Trotsky raised his leg and cut a fart so loud and with such force, the back of his  little clown pants exploded.

Unable to resist the current spotlight, Dragoff came back to the center stage and stuck the wooden handle of a bloody shovel up his rectum and balanced himself on it, straight up from the surface.  The sharpened tip of the shovel was embedded into the ground, several inches deep.

Ivan ran out and blared toward the crowd, "Ta-da!" After saying this, the clown midget promptly pissed his pants.

At that point, though, Dragoff sunk downward upon the shovel handle and found himself impaled upon it. Waving his arms like a pinwheel, his arms seemed like they blurred, in motion, to the audience.  Suddenly, Dragoff's colon was busted open by the wooden handle.  It didn't help that Ivan took the opportunity to jump on his back, hoping to share the spotlight.  A moment went by before the handle went all the way through Dragoff's small body and exited out of his mouth before plunging through Ivan's right eye socket.  Both circus performers screamed and tumbled, smashing forward into the hard, unforgiving ground.

Teeth, blood, bits of exploded colon and gore spilled forth in rivers from where they lay, motionless.

A teenager cheered and texted to her friend the act she had just witnessed.  She texted:

OMG!  I JUST SAW TWO CLOWN MIDGETS DIE BEFORE MY EYES.  THEY WERE HILARIOUS!

One audience member clutched his chest, unsure how much more he could take.  His wife, sitting next to him, patted her husband on the back and said, reassuringly, "It's going to be okay, honey.  These people are really multi-talented."

Asmodeus, demon in disguise and the owner of the circus joined Trixie, arm in arm.  Both of them had just made an entrance and took center stage.  Asmodeus noticed the man who was clutching his heart and politely asked, shouting toward him, "Do you feel a pain in your chest, sir?"

The man shook a bit, sweating and then said, "I'll be... fine."

With that, Trixie pulled her arm slowly away from Asmodeus' arm.  Like a frightening wraith, the once pretty, buxom blonde traveled up the bleachers and stood in front of the man who believed that he was about to have a heart attack.

Trixie curled her finger, slowly and beguilingly,until the man felt he should move his face closer to the pale woman's figure.  She was whispering something under her breath.  The man's wife said, "Go ahead, Sweety Pie," she coaxed, "The lady wants to probably show you a neat trick."

The man shuddered and nervously asked, "Are you a magician?"


Trixie lunged forward and stuck her forked tongue deep into the man's mouth, giving him a french kiss from hell.  Despite his extreme fear, the man achieved a sizable erection.  Trixie's long, snake-like tongue roamed around the inside of the man's trembling mouth.

Asmodeus suddenly ran up to the man, the wife and Trixie and then declared, "You're openly flirting with my woman!  How dare thee!"

Horns sprouted from Asmodeus' head and he quickly transformed into his real identity. The frightening form of a demon stood before the aroused husband.  Asmodeus' eyes glowed, red and fiery.  The demon circus owner clutched the man's neck and thrust upward, popping the victim's head off from his body like the cork of a champaign bottle.

The head bounced from one bleacher seat onto the next until it finally plopped in a young woman's nachos and cheese.  She was sitting in the front row, way down below.  Nachos and cheese flew everywhere.  Melted cheese and human blood splattered against her shirt.  Instead of wondering about or doing anything about the mess or the decapitated head, she immediately took an electronic device from her handbag and texted her friend about how a human head landed, suddenly, in her nachos and cheese and how hard it would be to get the stains out of her shirt.

Meanwhile, Asmodeus was still enraged about Trixie's transgression against him.  Instead of taking his anger out on her, however, he killed the man who had recently had a forked tongue dive into his mouth.   Asmodeus' big red arms steamed.  The arms of the demon rose above his head and the sides of the tent began to catch on fire.  Everyone screamed, panicked and attempted to escape.

Suddenly the wolves with red glowing eyes and bared fangs came pouring into the tent again and began dispatching each circus attendee, who made it to the floor, with joyful and hungry abandon.  Flesh, tattered clothes, phone gadgets, and lakes of blood could be found everywhere inside the tent.

Very few people got out alive that day and Asmodeus' Astounding Circus closed down for several months, disappearing without a trace, until it suddenly sprung up again in jolly old England.

Needless to say, the circus proved to be more popular than the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the Summer Olympics being held in London, combined.

Asmodeus and Trixie are married now in unholy matrimony.  And Trixie is constantly having to remind Asmodeus, every night, to take out the garbage.  Gosh!

But that's another story.  

Hanging On a Star

Been bogged down in the mumps, the ol' depressionary state, currently. The red line under "depressionary" is telling me that it's not a word and that I'm a retard. Damn, I can't do anything right. Lately, yeah, I think that title might just fit me. Retard. Maybe "Retard Extraordinaire". Ha. That could be more fitting.

I feel like I'm saying the wrongs things to quite a few people in my inner circle of friends and family. The ol' guilt thing is kickin' my ass all the way to the the moon, as of late. Time to time, I make my attempt to get off that moon of guilt, trying to hook my arm around a star and maybe, if I'm lucky, I will be able to walk down some of those stars. Maybe I'll make it back to Planet Earth soon and shake my own hand and call a truce on the guilt thing going on inside my head.

It's a battle of wills. And getting back to being comfortable with myself...

...would be dandy.

Anyway, the more I listen to this, the more I like it. The song is called The Fun Machine Took a Shit and Died

Don't listen to it if you don't want to listen to it. I don't wanna twist your arm. It's just, I think, some brand spankin' new music from Queens of The Stone Age. Supposedly, they're coming out with a new album, early in 2012. God, I hope it's early. The planet is supposedly blowing up on the 21st of December. If I find out the new album is going to be late- like after the 21st of December, 2012, well, it won't be a pretty picture.

I mean-

I'll be really steamed. I'll buy a strange bobble-head collection and take it with me to the nearest fine dining type of joint, put one of the bigger ones down my pants with just the bobble hanging out of my fly, register the looks on the faces of fellow patrons and ultimately poke my bobble into someone's martini.

A plan, conceived.

But I doubt it will happen. After all, bobble-heads freak me out. No, I won't buy a bobble-head. The name, itself, sounds perverted.

Of course, this scenario just popped into my mind:

I go up to Mrs. Claus. She's kinda old but kinda hot and wearing something red and fluffy. I guess it's a coat. And I say something suave.

"Hey! Wanna see my bobble-head, Mrs. Claus? It's got a red, Christmassy glow. Don't have any idea why. Must be the STD I got in ol' Meh-hee-go."

I often have sex fantasies about Mrs. Claus. Who doesn't?

Mexico. Hmmm....

Beats ol' GuiltLand, where I'm currently residing, nowadays. Or maybe not. Should I feel guilty about boning a mythical, beloved holiday character, by the way? No, I'm not talking about a certain high profile, female Republican candidate that's running for president.

Beloved. Heh.

I think I just watched a documentary type show on TV, detailing a true story that had a guy interviewing a group of middle aged golfer guys, involved in said story and reenactment of their individual experiences on their trip to Mexico. They end up getting robbed, almost killed and then almost getting robbed or worse again by some corrupt cops. I think it was some kind of "I survived my vacation" type show that's airs once a week on The Travel Channel. They said incidents like the ones those golfer guys had didn't happen that often.

Eh. Okay. Maybe not. I don't want to assume. Heck no.

The story before that or afterwards showed actual video of some dumbass getting his flesh torn apart by a lion. This guy, who had never dealt with lions before, happily volunteered to go into the cage with the lion. Then he begins to reach out to pet the lion, the first time, basically wearing only a hoody/sweatjacket type thing and some thin jogger's pants. Then Bippy Dippyshit gets a warning swipe, the first time, with a paw. The dude cried out, "OOOOOW". A little blood was spilled. But the dude continued. And continued. Seeing this idiot play with this lion, as if it were a kitten and then getting his leg meat tore into, like human filet mignon, before he was rescued, cheered me right up.

I know I haven't been around the blogging scene much. I've been doing too much false starting here. I've been getting sidetracked. But I think I'm going to attempt pull a blog-rabbit out of my ass again. Like I did in the Spring of this year, I think I'm going to challenge myself to another blogging duel. Yes. I shall bloggeth every day until the end of December. And I shall also endeavor to visit everyone's blogs like a man with a quest to reach the highest star. Isn't that inspiring? Doesn't it just fill your panties with a load of pungent glee?

Now when the end of December comes up, I will self destruct- or perhap I'll save my explosion until next year about this time. I wanna time it just right. Don't wanna stray from the pack too much. I really want to fit in with the crowd (just like always) and with all of the others that fateful day who will pop open like a smokey pinata. Because, as you might and maybe could tell... I'm an obedient conformist.

Mmm. I'm thinking of bacon flavored candy falling out of a big gash. Insert joke here.

If anyone wants my collection of Pepsi/Star Wars Episode One cans, before Doomsday, I may be willing to swing ya a lucrative deal that will flip you utterly out.

See you tomorrow or bust.

Contact me at pantloadfullofglee@hatemail.com about the cans. I'm feeling better already.

My Spouse's Heroism

I had many surprises, mostly good and a few that were unfortunate, happen to me and those close to me during the summer. One such event, that had dramatic elements of bad and good, occurred about two months ago and it's one I'll never forget. And it's one that made me take a better, more appreciative look at the woman I married.

The scene: My father, who has dementia and is extremely verbally abusive, is found at a McDonald's restaurant inside the local Wal Mart store. It was one of those times, out of several over the summer, where he went somewhere and I and another family member had to go searching for him. Those are all long stories that I can't/won't go into for the moment. Suffice it to say, he's a big pain in the ass and after trying to get him put in a nursing home for months, we keep hitting a brick wall. No one will help us. He threatens. He shakes his fist while ranting and insulting those around him. He's unfocused. He gets dizzy spells and the list goes on and on. Still, the lawyers and a few doctors out of a majority of doctors say he has just enough marbles to fight against being put in a nursing home against his will- which is what it would take.

Please... don't ask any questions about the "Dad Dilemma." As I said, there are too many details to go into with this ongoing, depressing part in my family's lives and I would be sitting here, writing for hours, if I started to explain it all.

So I won't.

Anyway, we finally find the crazy, abusive bastard at a table at McDonald's. Dad is eating his french fries, muttering and ranting about whatever while my wife and I calmly listen and wait for him to shut up long enough where we can ask him if we can take him home- which will inevitably lead to a heated argument. Then next thing we hear, over Dad's ramblings, is a horrendous scream. At first, at least to me, it sounded like a coworker in the food preparation area of McDonald's had suddenly surprised another coworker. Like a prank scenario. And then everyone in the small dining area hears a loud "thunk" on the floor from the back. My wife, a young guy that's a Wal Mart employee and I go rushing to the open back door to the kitchen.

Sprawled out on the linoleum floor of the kitchen (or whatever they call it) is a woman who has a big gash in her head. Blood is gushing out of her wound and she is moaning and breathing erratically. I stand there, frozen. I can't move. My anxiety disorder kicks in and debilitates my ability to do anything positive.

Ever since my mom's death years ago, the vision of her in my mind of the way she looked when I saw her, in death, I don't respond well or not at all in intense or stressful situations. I have all the usefulness as a lump of fungus. In surprise situations, like the one that night, it's even worse.

I'm not trying to make an excuse. That's just how I am now.

My wife turns back and gently pushes me away from the doorway. The Wal Mart employee shouts, "I'm going to get help." He runs off. My wife takes the cell phone out of the holster on my belt and calls 911. Meanwhile, in a daze, I shuffle back to the table where Dad is sitting. He's still eating french fries, oblivious to whatever is going on around him. The only thing I can think about is all the blood on the floor in the back room.

The only other McDonald's employee is a nervous, crying young woman. She's as useless as me at the moment. She's wringing her hands and looking around, waiting for someone to do something for her fellow coworker, the victim on the floor. She kinda walks around in the dining area, fidgeting and looking afraid. I look at her and wish she would help the woman in the back kitchen area but then I wish I would do the same.

My wife, on the other hand, with a tone of controlled urgency, explains to the 911 dispatcher what has happened, as far as she knows, and where the accident has taken place. I watch her until it finally dawns on me of what's going on. Then several people walk up to the counter and begin to become agitated because they can't place an order. I become agitated because it is starting to become apparent that there is a real emergency situation afoot and these dumb fuckers are worrying about getting their next Quarter Pounder with cheese.

While customers are grumbling about being waited on, my wife goes into the kitchen and kneels by the poor woman's side. The woman was getting paler by the minute, according to my wife. A pool of blood was forming all around the woman and running into the crevices of the floor. Still, the woman was mumbling and trying to raise her head off the floor. My wife told her to lie still and not move. My wife likely helped save her life, just doing that part. Not to mention calling the emergency telephone number. I think she helped keep the woman alive several ways that night.

Minutes passed until a Wal Mart manager finally shows up. The manager was accompanied by two other employees. Instead of helping the woman on the floor, they ask my wife how the woman is. My wife tells them her breathing is erratic and she's lost a lot of blood. My wife is shaking now, at this point, afraid the woman is going to die. Still, she stays by the woman's side, crouched down, saying words of comfort near her ear. The Wal Mart employees at the door tell my wife to keep doing what she's doing. In my mind, they're being useless in the situation, as well.

The manager does do one thing. She grabs a towel and throws it to my wife, who she apparently believes is the only one who can do anything (even though my wife has zero medical training) and tells my wife, "You should put that over the cut in her head and apply pressure."

Fearing the woman is going to die, my wife takes the towel and applies pressure over the gash. Eventually, a couple emergency first responders show up and come into McDonald's. I point to the kitchen area and say, "Back there."

Dad stops eating french fries long enough to ask what's going on. When I tell him about the situation, he says, "Ah... I've seen people bleed before. It's no big deal. Who is it? Anyone I know? Why are you looking like that? You're acting stupid." I tell him, "I don't know what her name is. I didn't ask the woman her name or look at her name tag as all the blood was gushing from her head."

One of the customers, pissed off, said, "The service is really bad in here. I tried to get some Chicken McNuggets up front and no one would come up and take my order." I find this statement disgusting and for a second, oddly humorous. But then I become annoyed at this redneck's stupidity to the point where I walk over to his table, turn around and cut a silent but pungent fart, directly in his face.

Of course, since we were at a McDonald's, he probably couldn't distinguish the aroma of anything on the menu and my turd fog.

Worried about my wife's emotional welfare, I went to the kitchen and motioned for my wife to rise up and come out into the dining room area. She had done enough and it was time for the first responders to do their job. After coaxing her with gentle words and hand gestures, she finally leaves the woman's side and joins me. Around this time, the EMT's come to the back and do what they're trained to do.

I tell my wife how brave and kind I thought she was for doing what she did for the victim. I tell her how impressed I was that she took action whereas I and everyone else didn't do enough or anything at all.

My Dad sees my wife and asks, "What's that woman's name back there?"

My wife said, "I don't know. I think her name tag said Sarah."

And then my wife grabbed me and started crying into my chest. I rubbed her back and told her she did everything that could be expected of her and more and that everything might turn out okay. She was shaking and crying. I tried comforting her as best I could.

Meanwhile, people were grumbling and taking their sweet time in getting the hell out of the way after being told to move for the victim who was being taken out of the store on a gurney. At this point, I was telling them to move out of the way, as well and that it wasn't a sideshow act taking place. I was finally starting to return to my normal state of mind. Actually, when I farted in Mr. Chicken McNugget's face, earlier, I may have been getting back into my normal groove, my normal state of mind. Who knows?

Everyone reacts differently in extreme emergency situations, for certain. I'm just glad my wife took appropriate action when others didn't. In my mind, my wife had an important hand in saving the woman's life. There aren't enough words to describe how impressed I am of her and how much I think of her as a hero. Whenever I bring up the story to other people, it bothers her because of all the memories of the blood on the floor and the woman, in pain, come into her mind. I feel bad that it causes her this distress but I can't help telling the story because of how proud I am of her.

We found out later that Sarah, the woman who fell to the floor and almost lost her life, turned out to come out of the accident, alive. We were also told Sarah had a history of seizures, before. That night, she had had the most devastating seizure of them all. Sarah was released from the hospital two days later. I was surprised at that, considering how much blood she lost that night. She was likely released in only two days because the health insurance company didn't want to pay for her to stay at the hospital any longer. I've heard that with a lot of head wounds, people have a tendency to bleed profusely but the amount of blood I saw looked like something out of a horror movie.

In conclusion, I would say my wife is a better person than I, when it comes to helping people. She's certainly more generous with her time, when it comes to listening or taking action. I know she helps take care of me everyday and I try to do the same for her but I feel like I don't do enough at times. But that's my hang up. When I look back on that night and all of the varied ways she gives of herself, I feel blessed that I married a woman like that.

The Incident At St. Mary's

Uncle Martin, Aunt Liv and their nephew, Tyler were sitting in their pew at St. Mary's Church, with hands folded in prayer. The priest, Father Wilkem, asked the parishioners to offer prayers, wishes and thoughts to The Lord.

The only thing Uncle Martin could think of at the moment, with his hands folded, was the twenty-something year old blonde haired college girl, sitting directly across from him, with the short, tight, black skirt and size D-cup titties and perfectly round ass.

Aunt Liv closed her eyes and prayed for Oprah Winfrey. She REALLY loved Oprah and was blessing Oprah for all of her good, charitable deeds throughout life and for giving all of those tax deductible free cars to "random" folks in her audience. Liv was sad that Oprah's last show was several weeks ago and that she was moving on with other projects on her own network but Aunt Liv just knew that deep in her heart that the magical Oprah, Queen of Daytime Talk Shows, Woman of The Year, Fortune 500's Sweetheart of The Decade and gosh, The Best Actress The World Had Ever Set Eyes Upon would somehow make it. And really BE THERE for her and all of her faithful followers in upcoming shows on her new network. Gosh, that Oprah was a saint.

She just didn't understand why the Catholic Church wouldn't induct her in the Saints Hall of Fame. She shook her head. Someone thought they heard a marble rattling around.

Tyler, a junior in high school, wriggled uncomfortably next to his Aunt Liv and cut a slow, rumbling fart against the wood of his seat. "Amen," said Tyler, under his breath. Tyler smiled and looked across the pews and caught a glimpse of Cheryl, his classmate in English. He thought, What a babe!

Tyler began imagining several scenarios where he was banging Cheryl over the long fold out table at the school cafeteria. Everyone was staring at them. Some students were applauding. Before you could say, "Alakazam!", Tyler was pitching a sizable tent in his slacks.

Right after loosening his tie, trying to suck in a little more air for his brain, Tyler heard Father Wilkem ask his parishioners to please stand up. With his fantasy temporarily put on pause, Tyler and the rest stood up. A few more readings from the bible went by and then Communion Ceremony began.

Everyone formed two lines to go up to the Priest, before the altar, to receive the blessed body of Christ that was in the form of a very thin, white, unleavened piece of round bread. A wafer.

These wafers were actually quite tasty and much better than the way they are described. I used to eat 'em like cookies when I was in parochial school. They couldn't become Christ, though, until the priest waved his magical wand (not his penis) and did the incantations. Sure, they still looked like wafers after he was done saying, "Presto! Change-o!" or something like that but I tell ya what... they tasted just a wee little bit better when you knew you were eating an ancient carpenter from biblical times. Yessir! Oh, wait a minute... I'm in the middle of a story aren't I?

Moving onward...

Each parishioner slowly marched toward the priest, for the Communion Ceremony and said, "Amen" after the priest said his special words.

Note: The priest says his special words that require the secret password of AMEN so the parishioner may then receive the blessed, newly transformed wafer that looks basically the same as it did before the priest made his incantations to change it to bite sized, easily digestible pieces of Christ. I farted. Amen.

Still, moving onward...

When everyone began returning to their pews to sit down and quietly, devoutly place the wafers on their tongues to eat it or allow it to dissolve like a breath mint, the parishioners pretended like they were praying and thinking deep, holy thoughts and other good ideas. Even as Tyler received his magic wafer, even as he said his Amen in of front Father Wilkem, he was still thinking of plunging his meat sword deep into Cheryl's quivering cunt. Some of the church goers noticed Tyler was sporting wood but Tyler could care less as Father Wilkem placed the host wafer into Tyler's sweaty hands.

Suddenly, a dark haired man threw open the front doors of the church entrance. His name was Intenso.

Intenso stormed through the middle aisle of the church, determination on his face. Dressed entirely in a black cloak, Intenso raised his hand towards the buxom blonde that Uncle Martin had been having impure thoughts about less than twenty minutes ago.

Dana, the college girl that Uncle Martin had been ogling, began to squirm around. Soon, a slow, lingering moan escaped from her O-shaped mouth. Her temperature began to rise. Her pussy began lubricating, soaking her bright pink thong.

Dana stood up, abruptly and began tearing her clothes off. Heavy breasts were unleashed from her bra. Dana's fingers probed her cunt inside her thong. She ripped the rest of her clothing off and began spreading her thick, swollen piss flaps. Intenso slowly twisted his hand, an evil smile appeared on his face. Dana made a loud warbling sound come through her throat and out of her mouth.

Pussy juice gushed from Dana's cunt. Everyone in the parish church gasped, in shock and desire, as Dana fingered her clit with such blurring speed, that her eyes rolled to the back of her head. A banshee cry came out of the young woman's mouth as she spread her arms and legs. Intenso twisted his hand in the air the opposite direction. Now you could see Dana's clit, and cunt lips being pinched and fondled. Her nipples stood straight up, towards heaven, as Dana bent over backwards over the pew behind her.

Half of the parish was hard or wet from watching the spectacle.

Father Wilkem broke out into an award-winning prayer to The Lord.

Soon, Intenso turned his attention to the other female parishioners and began his routine of masterful telepathy and manipulation of genitals with them.

The parishioners moaned, allowing wave after wave of orgasm hit them. They all took off their clothes and their cries of pleasure, joy and intense emotions took them over. Pussy juice splattered on the floor. When some of the men saw this, they could control their lust no more. They instantly dropped their trousers and furiously wanked off, spurting streams of thick jism all across the church pews. An old man was hit in the eye with one blob of sperm and he fell, crashing his head into the small table in the middle of the aisle. The elderly gentleman's head was split open on the collection plate on the table. Blood soon ran everywhere and dribbled off the table's sides.

Father Wilkem asked for guidance from The Lord as he stroked his penis, uncontrollably.

Sister Bethany fell to her knees and screamed, suffering and enjoying waves after soul-enlightening waves of orgasms ripple throughout her body and hit her deep into her G-spot. Sister Bethany's nipples felt tingly, like they were almost on fire. A puddle of her pussy juice formed around her. There was enough there to baptize an infant, if one so desired.

Many of the parishioners were squirming and thrashing about. Various spots and puddles of human ejaculation and vaginal secretions were causing severe safety hazards during this unique Sunday church service. People began slipping and falling. A man in his mid thirties fell and cracked his head wide open on the top headboard of the old wooden pew. Blood soon gushed out of his forehead where there was a messy gash. Other people fell, as a result of slippage, often while moaning during the ecstasy and struggle of constant orgasms.

Intenso quickly whirled his arm around. The Master of Orgasms stood in the middle of church. Naked bodies writhed on the floor. Penises spurted heavy loads. Balls drained and filled up, magically, once again. Snatches dribbled and gushed their wetness. One man dipped his holy wafer into a small puddle of pussy juice, soaking it until is was soggy. He then gave thanks to The Lord, ate it and promptly rammed his penis into Sister Bethany's backdoor, her holy stink eye, if you will.

Her mouth made a funny noise right then.

While Tyler was jerking off, he contemplated the sound Sister Bethany emitted and thought it sounded like, "Moooo."

Some of the parishioners had tortured looks on their faces. Some expressed a mix of pain and pleasure. Either way, Intenso was satisfied. The man in the black cloak threw his head back and laughed, heartily.

And then, before you could say, "Hit me with your best money shot", Intenso left the church. A few minutes lurched by as the church goers' fever of seemingly unending lust finally subsided. They looked at each other, embarrassed and commenced to putting their tattered, wet clothes back on their trembling bodies. Many of the parishioners had passed out. A few died of cardiac arrest and stroke. Others were helping incapacitated others with their clothes.

Dizzy and feeling quite used up, the parishioners stumbled and lurched out of the entrance of the church. A few of them fell down the stone stairs, from a major lack of bodily fluids and low blood sugar. Some men were in pain due to severe semen drainage from their balls. They were light-headed, speaking in an unthinking, mumbling sort of way. The women stared, straight forward, zombie-like. Some of them, as well, tripped down the stairs. Leaves from the nearby trees were blown against their bare, sticky legs and stuck snugly to their slick flesh of their thighs and calves.

Passerby saw the people tumbling down the steps. A few ran to help them up and take them to the hospital or aid them in another positive way. Some only stopped to take pictures with their cell phones. Tyler smiled. He had just fucked Cheryl in the ass, while pinching her nipples over a church pew. Going to church wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be.

What started out as a normal, uneventful church service turned into quite an unforgettable day for the parishioners of St. Mary's Church.

Auditions For The Circus

Created by Oscar The Disturbed, Chloe The Nympho and MasterHeathen

The circus tent was noisy inside with hopeful artists talking to each other and practicing their acts. Sitting at a large wooden desk on the furthest right hand side were two men, murmuring to each other, serious in their appearance. The owner of the circus was a large man with dark brown eyes with just a hint of red surrounding the pupils. The look of his face conveyed a wisdom about him. His name was Byron Asmodeus and he had owned Asmodeus' Astounding Circus for 20 odd years. His ringmaster, Gregorio, worked hard as a manager for the circus.

For the last hour, they had seen and judged two sets of performers and neither group made the cut.

Gregorio stared straight ahead and to Asmodeus, he announced the next group of artists to audition. "Next, we have The Blutarsky Brothers."

Asmodeus cleared his throat and asked, "What do they do?

Ringmaster Gregorio replied, "They are a family of midget clowns."

"I see," said Asmodeus, as he leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together.

A little old woman, her face white and red with make up, was leading her little tribe of offspring up to the stage in front of their potential employer's desk. She had a grizzled look about her and the make up on her face could not hide the fact that she was well into her sixties. The mother of 7 children, who were between the ages of thirty to forty, tilted her head as she spoke.

"I am the mother of these seven clown midgets. We came to America from Russia, home of Vodka. All my children suffer from hydrocephalus and Down syndrome. They also have trouble with their feet from wearing the big clown shoes and as a result, they walk funny."

Asmodeus and Gregorio looked at all seven and noticed they were kind of wobbling back and forth, shifting uneasily from one foot to another.

The mother, Isa, continued, "They have the fungus grow under their toenails. Only Lamisil helps to keep their toenails on."

Asmodeus and Gregorio exchanged glances of bewilderment before the mother of the clown midgets added, "The father of these boys has passed on. If he were here today, he would show you his magnificent ability to shoot miniature bullets out of his fully erect penis."

The two men, glanced at each other and then looked at the mother, giving Isa the impression that they were impressed by this.

Isa said, "First, I will show you what my talent is and then each of my boys will show you what they can do for you."

Asmodeus said, "Whenever you're ready... begin."

The little old midget turned around, dropped her tiny pants, bent over, touched her toes and shot a steady stream of butt gravy across the stage. Quickly turning around, the mother of 7, briskly rubbed her chubby little thighs together and with the power of her vaginal muscles, sparks began to fly from her coochie until a eerie ball of fire erupted from her ancient pussy.

Amazed and impressed, Gregorio and Asmodeus applauded Isa's talent.

After her fire died out, Isa said, "This was how I killed the father of my boys. One night, after he beat me and called me names, I lay on top of the horrible man while his penis was soft. I acted like I was hot with sex for him. My husband was fooled by this. Then I make powerful sparks with my vagina and ignite a fire upon his penis as I wrap my short strong arms around him, not letting the bastard free himself. By the time I was done with him, he was like a burnt hog, crispy black and flesh falling from him."

Without pausing, Isa introduced one of her sons, "This is Nikolai. He lived with his uncle in Budapest for a year to learn all he could from him. My son, Nikolai, is the only clown who can juggle a chainsaw, bowling ball and box of condoms in the all of Russia, maybe in the entire world.

Nikolai took a spot in the middle of the stage, juggled the chainsaw, bowling ball and box of condoms without dropping any of the items. Asmodeus, nodded his head, impressed.

Isa introduced her next son, "This is Vladamir. He drives the clown car. He got his license in clown car driving by driving Smart cars for Mercedes Benz and being crash test dummy for them."

Vladamir demonstrated how well he drove the clown car and got out of it hurriedly, to waddle back up on the stage. The ringmaster clapped his hands and said, "You have great skill." Vladamir smiled, was obviously bashful, his face crinkling beneath the white make up. Vladamir suddenly celebrated being complimented by pulling his pants down and scratching his taint.

Isa, full of pride, introduced her next son, "And this is Ivan. He has taught his dog, Spot, how to ride on the back of his pony, Speck, for the Dog & Pony show."

Ivan had the pony and dog do the trick at his command. Asmodeus nodded approvingly and then said, "Very good. Next."

The mother of her offspring of clown midgets said, "This is Dragoff."

The two judges gave the little man a curious look.

Isa continued, "Dragoff was born with a permanent smile. A birth defect, as you Americans call it. He was diagnosed at the age of two. My son, Dragoff, because of this defect, does not require much clown make up. Before this audition, for you gentleman, he spent many years in midget tossing competitions."

Asmodeus put a hand up, pausing the old woman for a moment. The circus owner said, "And what talent can he demonstrate for us, today?"

Without missing a beat, Dragoff did a series of backward flips on the stage until landing in a barrel of thumbtacks and needles. He remained, motionless in the barrel, enduring what would be a painful experience for most people and kept his smile. Then Ivan came out, ran toward Dragoff and, suddenly, with a wooden chair, crashed it down on Dragoff's head. Splinters and wood fragments flew out in every direction. Dragoff smiled. Ivan shouted, "Ta Da!"

Asmodeus and Gregorio laughed, clapped and then, in unison, said, "Bravo."

After the stage was cleared, Isa said, "The next son performing for you handsome men is my eldest. His name is Jeepo. Jeepo has had an aneurysm that has affected what you may call his mo-mo-mo... motor skills."

Jeepo weeble wobbled his way onto the stage. To keep his balance, the stumpy clown flung his arms wildly, looking like a human pinwheel. This act gave the illusion of an abstract dance that had amused many crowds in the past. Soon, the midget clown's arms were all a blur. It was hypnotical. When he could no longer move his arms from the tiresome flailing, Jeepo spun around and dove off the stage, landing head first into the heavy desk, making a squishy sound with the softest part of his bulbous head.

Asmodeus and Ringmaster Gregorio abruptly stood up and gave Jeepo a standing ovation.

Isa, happy with the two men's reaction, introduced her next offspring.

"This is Luscious. Before she had, what you call "sex change operation", though it was not much an operation because my son, Ivan, is so handy with the knife. Her name was Chekov and she was a he. Before coming to perform for you today, Luscious worked at a tampon factory. Her job was quality control."

Without being prompted, Luscious, in her tiny tights, began doing a series of back flips, spins and twirls until finally ending her stunt by jumping straight up into the air and coming down onto the stage, doing the splits. Hurriedly, she got up, pulled down her tights and exposed her bald beaver. There was a tattoo of a snake on her cunt lip. The tongue of the snake hovered just above her clit. Like her mother, she, too, rubbed her thighs together until working her new vagina muscles up enough to produce sparks from her cunt. Soon flames flickered and all of Isa's sons came over and roasted marshmallows over her fiery pussy.

She, too, was given a standing ovation by the two delighted men behind the desk.

Isa waved Luscious off the stage and introduced her last son. A cross-eyed midget teetered from side and side, gradually making his way onto the stage. Asmodeus and Gregorio sat back down.

"My son, Trotsky."

Trotsky had troubles with his lungs because he was a heavy smoker. Pulling out deflated balloons from the pockets of his clown pants, Trotsky coughed and gagged before filling each long, slender balloon to it's fullest capacity. Without haste, Trotsky quickly formed the balloons into the shape of a male organ and a female organ. Luscious came back on stage and took the phallic balloon and slid it into her little midget slit. Shifting her thighs rigorously together, she created sparks and popped the penis shaped balloon with ease.

Ivan suddenly made another entrance onto the stage and bashed both of their heads in with a toaster. As his siblings fell to the floor, bleeding profusely, Ivan shouted, "Ta-Da!"

Asmodeus stood up and said, "All of you are hired. I welcome you, as my working performing artists to Asmodeus' Astounding Circus."

In unison, Isa and all the rest of her midget clown family cheered and whooped. Trotsky coughed up blood and smiled. It was a great day for The Blutarsky Brothers.