172 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
172 lines
11 KiB
Plaintext
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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[ One Night In The Asshole Saloon ] [ By Max West ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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ONE NIGHT IN THE ASSHOLE SALOON
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"Check it out," Joe whispered over one shoulder, "Your going to dig this!"
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"OK FOLKS!" The balding M.C. in baggy blue jeans, boots and red checked
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shirt bawled from the stage. "Tonight you all know what we got. Yeah, a
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real favorite here'bouts at the Asshole Saloon, so I want y'all, umm hum,
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even you fuckers down there under the tables, (ripple of polite laughter
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from the audience), to put your hands together and welcome Jeb, Ed and
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Louise!, Three lean and mean U.S. marshals all the way from Warshington DC!
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Along with their technical advisor, Link Large-dong!" The smirking M.C.
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turned, flinging an aside to his challengers, "You guys all ready to meet
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PECKER!!" he yells out the last word while the crowd erupts into near
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ecstasy at the mention of the name, clapping shouting, spitting, coming on
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themselves. "THAT'S RIGHT!!" the announcer stokes the willing group. "Joe
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Rock's man eating hoss, PEC-KER!!, (more crowd joy), In a duel to the death
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with our brave contestants, right here, right now!" It's a barely
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restrained group that rips into foot stomping, rebel yells, gags and
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whistles, watching the eager approach of the marshals in full riot gear
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carrying Uzi submachine guns and electric cattle prods. They step up smartly
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to their marks on the stage.
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Loud cheers rip from the spectators when Pecker, clad from snout to hoof
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in shiny black body armor with yellow racing stripes, emerges from the
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opposite side of the platform, lips rippling back in a patented grin,
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showing off a set of teeth that'd make a Tyrannosaurus faint. Logan checks
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the strings of saliva dripping off Pecker's fangs by the light of the
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colored spots overhead. His thoughts on it: "An excessive display,"
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"Nice horsy!" Somebody whooped as the combatants begin to circle each
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other. What ensues doesn't please Logan in the least, though it's not
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because of the show; it was that damned animal. Meanwhile, the crowd eats
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it up: Louise, a whirl of snarling, Dykish fury, leaps forward with
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authority trying to poke Pecker under his head armor with her electric
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baton. Logan can see that this marshal, a stocky, well muscled, crew cut
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fighting law person wants to end this thing as quickly as possible-her
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partners spread strategically on either side, leveling their Uzi's waiting
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for her to get into it before they start fighting. She's a proud one but
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not too bright; In fact, though she possesses the very traits demanded by
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her profession, this isn't like beating up a hog-tied Nigger and she
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predictably underestimates both Peck's speed and intelligence. The very
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first prod that connects is more than enough for this gifted wonder horse.
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In a blinding flash, too rapid to follow, Pecker lunges in close and simply
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bites her whole face off, skin and bone. The shocked troopers stare, nearly
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immobilized at the sight of "one of their own" downed with such efficiency.
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Sprays of blood coming from the hole in their companion's skull finally
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galvanizes them into action. They panic fire, sending staccato bursts of hot
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lead more or less in Pecker's direction but mostly into the audience.
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Ricocheting slugs fly in every direction through the bar but the wise
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patrons just laugh and duck even though a couple of tourists are killed
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instantly. Meanwhile, the normally cool headed Pecker's dander has become
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ruffled. It was the cattle prods and their implied connection with fucking
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Cows, that did it! He fuckin' hated cows! With a snort he turns crosswise to
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the two men, executing one of his favorite tactical maneuvers,
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simultaneously kicking the cop behind him with both hooves, crushing his
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chest flat, then using his forward momentum to propel his jaws into
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position, completely snapping off the other trooper's head at the neck.
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It is at about this time that the mutant Mountain Gorilla is released from
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the booth backstage where it's been watching the action on a monitor all
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along-he replaced Link Largedong who'd decided to cancel at the last
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minute. It's a hopeless mismatch. Even though the Gorilla's IQ has been
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artificially boosted, it still can't handle the chainsaw or the automatic
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shot gun it's got for weapons, so almost immediately it cuts off one of
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it's own legs and let's fly with both barrels into the exposed ass of the
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fattest whore in the house whose trying to take a shit on her boyfriend's
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face as a sort of tribute to the magnificent wonder horse. Pecker advances
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on his lonely prey to bite off the other leg and one arm at the shoulder,
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leaving for later the clumsy ape howling in it's own fluids. Yeah, our old
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maneater has become very agitated by this sport, the four feet of straining
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equestrian cock emerging from it's sheath testifies to this fact nicely.
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Pecker further amazes the fans with his agile teeth and flexible snout,
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ripping the uniform pants off the slaughtered marshals, flipping them onto
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their stomachs and nudging their legs apart. Fires of roguish desire has
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done lit up the turgid pits of his eyes and now the indomitable Pecker will
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have his desert. The audience has waited for this moment, some have maybe
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waited all their lives; the looks of rapture and glee on their otherwise
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slack faces tells it's own story loud and clear.
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The handicapped Gorilla watching the fate of his comrades in arms, let's
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out a hoot while it tries to crawl away, it's one good hand clawing
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splinters out of the stage floor, stubbornly trying to save what's left of
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it's dignity. A very horny Pecker reaches over to hold him down with one
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hoof while he finishes buggering the endearingly dead officers. When he's
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done all he can, he tears most of the meat off their skeletons and eats his
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fill between huge mouthfuls of twelve year old Scotch from a nearby bucket,
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generously provided by the management.
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"My God!" Logan whispered, amazed, "The son-of-a-bitch's appetite is
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unbelievable!"
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A few of the rowdies down front could hear the Mountain Ape praying in
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heavily accented English to whatever worthless god apes worship, while
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above it the inflamed hoofster prepares to mount. By this time the crowd
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has gone crazy. Mosh pits form down front of the stage after Joe signals
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the loud and boisterous house band, The Poppin' Boilmiesters, to rev up to
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full volume. Half naked men and women, drag queens and shaved goats start
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screaming and hunching on anything or anyone that moves; Some of the
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nightclubbers just grab bottles, brooms or walking sticks, jamming them
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into all proffered holes. Dogs bark and snap at the shadows while cats wail
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in heat, spraying the patrons. On the counter the mascot hamsters rut in
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their bed of wood chips, blending their squeaks of maddened lust-joy with
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the shouts of victory from the winning betters. But it was when Pecker
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decided to regurge onto the back of the unlucky Gorilla's head preparatory
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to fucking it, that Logan figured he'd just about had all he was going to
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take. In a flash he pulled his silenced 9mm Gobstopper free and sent a slug
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across the room unerringly straight to the open eye slit of the War-horse's
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helmet through his brain and out the other side dropping the animal where
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it stood. Poor Pecker's hose didn't get the message for at least fifteen
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seconds, flopping unguided against the sagging buttocks of it's sobbing
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victim. In the hush that followed, right before the general outcry, Joe
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Rock belched, "Nice shot man!"
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A ripple of booze and dope soaked electricity was frazzling up the
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already tweaked patrons as more and more of them got the idea that this
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wasn't just part of the act. Somebody upchucked like Old Faithful in the
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dimness close to them-Pecker was cold cocked! The word was spreading -
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"C'mon, we better get upstairs-my office-shottin' down the only real
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celebrity we had 'round here was pretty risky, pardner." They moved like
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ghosts against the background of heavy metal Surf coming off the stage,
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through a tenebrous night tableau of smoky shapes and bleary white smudges
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of faces lit by the occasional match flair over a Bong pipe or the
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reflection off blue steel razors and guns. They were heading toward the
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elaborate Rococo staircase in the back. The room was so charged up with
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outrage and malice that nobody was watching them - a few fights had started
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by the stage and the blood bath would soon be in full force. Even though
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nobody was watching them, they stayed close to the walls anyway. Passing two
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Dykes carving Pecker's name with a Bowie knife onto a passed out drunk's
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back, Joe commented, "They loved that hoss!"
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"Ah, Hell! Sorry, man" Logan shot back halfheartedly.
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"No, no pal, don't get me wrong," Joe reassured him, "I loved Pecker like
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a brother, but that animal was getting' too damn mean, ya know?" Logan shook
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his head. He didn't really know and didn't really want to. They'd been up in
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that Arroyo pulling some deal Joe'd cooked up-he was so proud of that sick
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pony-half it's hide was falling off, looked like it survived Hiroshima or
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some shit; It was all fucked up but Joe assured him that it had potential
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and he was going to call it, Pecker. "Got to where he was eatin' down two,
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three cops a week," Joe rambled on. Logan was still sifting around in the
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sewage of his memories: After that shit had fallen through in a way he'd
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rather not recall, he'd blacked out and when he came to, it was just him,
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his dead horse and the ever brutal Pecker. Joe was no place in sight. When
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the disgusting creature had started vomiting those human hands and half
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digested heads, he'd been outta there.
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #467 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #467
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http://uXu.org
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