119 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
119 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
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_____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________
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| ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ |
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| | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | |
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| |________________________________________________________________| |
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|____________________________________________________________________|
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...presents... Vegas, 1976
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by Mad Mac
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>>> a cDc publication.......1994 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____
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|____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|
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Yeah, I remember this one time back in '76 when I found myself in the
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washroom at the Sands in Los Vegas, beat the shit out of the towelboy, and then
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locked myself in one of the stalls and began stamping my left foot as I
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splashed the toilet water on my face and stuffed my pants with tissue paper.
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I'm screaming about the time the aliens landed in my C-rations back in '72,
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in 'Nam, and all of the sudden I notice this pair of shoes in the stall next to
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me. So, I reach down and grab them and yank real hard.
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I hear this nasal yelp, and this fat-ass falls off the toilet and plops on
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the floor. I decide I'm gonna kill this fat fuck, so I pull my .357 and cock
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it as I open the door to my stall and walk out. I yank the door open to the
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stall next to me, and guess who the fuck it was? You'll never guess.
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Some guy who looked like fucking Wayne Newtan is sitting in a pile of shit
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on the floor with a coke mirror and an issue of HINEY BOY and probably the
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closest thing to an erection he can achieve. Anyways, so I says to him, "Get
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your fat ass off the floor before I punch a fucking hole in your head and that
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fucking hamburger you call brains falls all over this floor." He jumped to his
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feet, not even bothering to pick up his pants from around his ankles. "Turn
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around," I tell him. Being totally friggin' scared for his life, he does.
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"Bend over," I tell him. He starts fucking whimpering as he bends over and
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crying.
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And at first he yelps, but then he starts acting like he's enjoying it or
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something, which pisses me off to the max, so like the true James Bloodsmoke
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that I am, I pull my gun out of his ass, and I blow one of his balls off. He
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starts screaming and shit, and falls on the floor bleeding. That fucking .357
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fucking disintegrated his ball sack, and the other ball is like hanging out of
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it like it's on some kind of fucking grisly string. Anyway, so NOW he starts
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whimpering in earnest, and he's crying like some kind of fucking baby, trying
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to shove his other ball back through the fucking gaping hole in his fucking
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scrotum.
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"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I scream, and now he knows I mean business. So I tell
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him to get up, turn around, and bend over. This time he's REALLY scared
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shitless, because he's only got one ball left, and I'm really pissed.
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"You like this shit, do you?" I ask, picking up his HINEY BOY magazine and
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slapping him over the head with it. "I think I'm gonna have to teach you a
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lesson, fat boy."
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<<---- ---- ---- ---- >>
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The next morning I got up, went downstairs for coffee and a donut. As I
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was sitting at my table reading the days headlines, I noticed one that really
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caught my eye.
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"LOCAL ENTERTAINER IN HOSPITAL--SEE PAGE 6"
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So, I flip to page 6, and there as big as life, is the story of how Wayne
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Newtan was admitted to OUR LADY OF THE BLOODY FUCKING DRIPPING PLASMA HEART
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WITH A FUCKING SWORD THROUGH IT hospital on the outskirts of Vegas, where he
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had to have an obstruction surgically removed from his ass:
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Local surgeons were summoned to County Hospital early this morning in
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response to an emergency call from a local entertainer. The
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entertainer was diagnosed as having an acute intestinal blockage, and
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went into surgery to remove the obstruction at 6:00 A.M. this
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morning. The doctors were surprised to remove several items from Mr.
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Newtan's intestinal tract, including a magazine, several shards of
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glass, what appeared to be several toilet handles, assorted small
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change, a bath towel, several .357 rounds, an object which appeared
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to be the tip of a boot, several lightbulbs, a Zippo lighter, a can
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of beer, and lastly, a playing card - the ace of spades. Needless to
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say, the doctors were surprised at the amount of debris, and the
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patient declined to comment upon how they got there. He was also
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treated for a groin injury and is presently in intensive care.
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I couldn't stop laughing. The fucker was lucky I didn't ace him the
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minute I saw the coke.
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EPILOGUE:
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I went to go see one of his shows a couple of weeks later. After the
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show, I pushed my way to the front of the crowd outside of the dressing room
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waiting for his autograph. He came out and began doing his signing.
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I stepped up and handed him something to sign. He looked at the ace of
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spades card I handed him and went white as a sheet. "Hello, Wayne. Read any
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good books lately?" I chuckled. "Sign it, 'To my good friend, Mac.'"
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_______ __________________________________________________________________
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/ _ _ \|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Kingdom of Shit.....806/794-1842|
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((___)) |Cool Beans!..........415/648-PUNK|Polka AE {PW:KILL}..806/794-4362|
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[ x x ] |Metalland Southwest..713/579-2276|ATDT East...........617/350-STIF|
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\ / |The Works............617/861-8976|Ripco ][............312/528-5020|
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(' ') | Save yourself! Go outside! DO SOMETHING! |
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(U) |==================================================================|
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.ooM |Copyright (c) 1994 cDc communications and Mad Mac. |
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\_______/|All Rights Reserved. 05/01/1994-#260|
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