Thursday evening was always a big night for Tito's Tittytown Tavern. The weekly Klingon language poetry slams were a big draw and the crowds were large, thirsty and rowdy as all get out. Stringbean had made sure that the kitchen was fully stocked with Sloppy Joe mix , cool whip and young coconut meat, the essential ingredients of Tittytown's Thursday night special: " Dr. Puckerbutt's Anal Ointment" (for your chapped anus). Tito was always a basket case on poetry slam nights and Stringbean had learned to simply keep his mouth shut and the vermin grinder well-oiled. Tonight Tittytown was aflutter with rumors that the morbidly-obese talent scout, Coco Van Winkle was on the prowl for fresh new faces. Coco sat in a dark corner of the tavern clad in his trademark lobster bib and pinwheel hat, bobbing his head to the music of the house band, Jiffy Pop Frankenstein and The Hershey Squirts. A collection of men and women dressed in Klingon uniforms and makeup of varying quality mulled around the tavern awaiting their moment in the limelight and paying very little attention to the music.
The band was on fire tonight, playing a dynamic collection of songs from their new album, "Fumigate the Odor of Your Love". They blasted out power ballad after power ballad: "Convalescent Home Smackdown", "Normal-shaped Baby", "Licorice G-String", "Monkey Shit Blowback" and "Flatulence Filibuster". Stringbean found the music pleasantly complimentary to practicing his pelvic thrusts as he observed the band from the kitchen. He'd been a big fan ever since purchasing their platinum-selling double album, "Werewolf Breath" at the Skanktown flea market. The double album featured some of their greatest hits: "Candy Cane Catheter", "Ovaltine Colon Cleanse", "Pickles Poops in the Pumpkin Patch", and the mega-hit, "Succulent Chocolate Booty". It was really something to have such a powerhouse rock ensemble play the likes of their small fishing village and Stringbean hoped he could meet the band members and possibly get an autograph or two when their set was finished.
Stringbean liked to believe that he too was gifted with a modicum of musical talent and he had even recently performed a mildly-successful fundraising concert to raise money for cement to fill in the Ducky Jurgens Memorial Sinkhole. In the past few months, several children had fallen (or were intentionally shoved) into the sinkhole and vanished while playing near the gaping menace. Stringbean had raised a total of $4.50. The contributor had given him the money with the stipulation that he stop repeatedly playing his song, "The Sexual Underwear Gang" and leave the area. Stringbean had used the money to purchase lamp oil and ping pong balls for a performance art piece he was putting together. It would be an interpretive dance performance based on the film, "Three on a Meat Hook". He was still working out the kinks in the act, but it was taking shape as something truly special. He would perform the piece as his alter ego: "Salsbury Steak Face Lift", and would involve audience members in an interactive scavenger hunt in which they would find certain items inside of his pants. Soon it would be Stringbean's turn to wow the crowd at Tittytown, but for now he would stick to manning the grill. There were burgers to flip and anus ointment to mix.
With Tito distracted and frantically tending bar for a freakish collection of beer-guzzling "trekkers", Stringbean was free to work on fine-tuning a somewhat problematic chapter of his autobiography, "Ladies, Please Attempt to Ignore the Flesh-Colored Boa Constrictor Packed Into My Cling Wrap Thong: The Stringbean McDougal Story". The chapter in question was the book's third, tentatively titled: "Count Drinkula and the Lovesexy Cherry Coke Enema". Stringbean unraveled a length of toilet paper that he'd been using to doodle his chapter notes on. On the wrinkled toilet paper, scrawled in his own blood, were the words: "Restraining order", "Buck Knife", "Loose Canon", "Pumpernickel" and "Denture Creme Diabolique". He read the list aloud and then quickly took a felt tip pen from his pocket and added: "Raw Bacon", "Dumplings", "Easter Basket" and "Gay Agenda". Suddenly his concentration was broken by a voice shouting loudly over the music. "Kral Rak! Mauk Lak! Krell Mauk, Earther!"
Stringbean looked up from his notes, meeting the piggishly beady eyes of a heavily-perspiring, pudgy-faced Klingon standing in the kitchen doorway with his hand out. Stringbean rolled his eyes and then passed the flabby pseudo-space warrior a mountainous plate of chili cheese fries and an extra large bucket of Mountain Dew. "Mauk Slak, Earther! Krell Mauk!" the plus-sized Klingon roared, afterward cramming a fistful of the sloppy fries into his mouth. Stringbean could only shake his head, mystified, as he watched the wannabe alien badass waddle away stuffing his fat face. He recognized the Klingon as Christopher Newcastle, an obnoxious know-it-all windbag he'd had in a high school multimedia class who spent most of his non-Klingon hours speaking loudly to no one in particular about something called "World of Warcraft". The gig as Tito's resident grill jockey wasn't bad but the fucking Klingons were a bunch of buttfucking asswipes. Captain James T. Kirk had probably said the exact same thing at one time or another.
The band finished up their final number to lackluster applause from the portly Kilngons. Stringbean attempted to make up for their rudeness with a few howls of approval and a couple of enthusiastic fist pumps in the air. The band members turned in Stringbean's direction and took a bow. lead singer Jiffy Pop Frankenstein tipped his purple top hat in appreciation. "I guess the ass-reaming little dickwad in the shithole of a kitchen liked us!" he said in a sarcastic drawl and then unzipped his pants and began to urinate on the stage. "Hey, shitface, when you're done choking your chicken in the kitchen you can drag your scrawny ass out here and wipe my piss up off the stage, you faggot!" Stringbean grinned and waved at the lead singer and then quietly took a double barrel shotgun from beneath the kitchen counter. "Come on Cinderella, get yer mop!" the singer said. Stringbean waved again and then shot the lead singer in the groin with the double barrel shot gun. Blood splattered stunned Kilngons and fellow band members as Jiffy Pop was blown backward, shrieking in agony. The crowd panicked and scattered as Stringbean began to randomly fire into the crowd. Tito's head exploded in a crimson shower of brain matter and skull fragments. A man in a gorilla costume ran out of the men's restroom with a plastic bucket and began lobbing handfuls of human feces at the frantic customers. Several men dressed as the Keystone Cops barged through the front door, battering customers with batons and throwing custard pies as a man in a straw boater hat sat down and began to play a cheery hony tonk tune on the tavern's upright piano. The tavern was in complete chaos. The glass of the skylight rained down upon the crowd as the flying horse, Pegasus descended from the sky above. Stringbean mounted the mythical creature and donned Jiffy Pop's discarded rubber Frankenstein's monster mask. "Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good fuck!" he shouted as Pegasus took flight. Stringbean dropped a live grenade through the skylight of the tavern as they soared into the glimmering night sky. The tavern's east wall exploded below and there were terrible screams.
This post has been a test of the emergency alert blog system, in the event of an actual blog posting please wipe the semen from your computer screen and attempt to put your pants on over the top of your head. Who stole Bobo's funny red clown shoes? Can I get an amen? How about some diarrhea medicine?
Author's Note: This nonsensical pile of feces was created with a large list of words and terms that I wrote down while thinking that they might be amusing when combined into a story. I was quite wrong. The list went as follows:
Poontang Beaversnatch
Pelvic thrust
Ginger snaps
Candy Cane
Jiffy Pop Dracula
Lovesexy Cherry Coke
Cling wrap
Mead
Instant mashed potatoes
Loose canon
Choose Life t-shirt
Off-script
"Slank"
Puke Bucket
Cracker Jack
Catheter
Normal-shaped baby
Fishing village
Werewolf breath
Dr. Hopstetter's gene splicing tape
Witchfinder
Soup Kitchen
Stage Coach
Flea Market
Pin wheel hat
Hershey squirts
Twinkie fucker
Easter basket
Johnson's sink hole
Restraining order
Harmonica lessons
Panty line
Raw bacon
Blowback
Monkey bars
Spray foam insulation diaphragm
Surgical tubing
Filibuster
Chapped anus
Mr. Microphone
Cocoa puffs
Direct deposit
Amin: The Rise and Fall
Phantom Tanning Booth
Ovaltine
Colon cleanse
Licorice g-string
Pumpernickel
Calling card
Pablo Picasso's Blue Fartknocker#4
The Succulent Booty
The Colonoscopy Challenge Game from Milton Bradley
Journeyman Proctologist
Fumigate the Odor of Your Love
Convalescent Home Smackdown
Klingon language poetry slam
A Mint Julep for Judas
Sexual orgasm of love
Mervin the Magical Misunderstood Morgue Midget
Claim Jumper
Hashish
Dr. Puckerbutt's anal ointments
Skullduggery
Sloppy Joe sandwich mix
Scavenger hunt
Tito's Tittytown Tavern
Pickles Poops in the Pumpkin Patch
Pimento Loaf
Grizzly
Dugan Portnoy
Coco Van Winkle
Ping Pong
Lobster bib
Scabies
Count Dracula
The Sexual Underwear Gang
Lamp oil
Pubic region
Vermin grinder
Morbidly obese
Talent scout
Three on a Meat Hook
Gay agenda
Jocular
Accordion
Facelift
Salsbury steak
String bean
Young coconut meat
Diabolical denture creme
Wicker athletic supporter
Cool Whip
Bugle
Slim Jim
Dumpling
Octogenarian Sex Addict
Neck brace
Drywall
Fort some reason, while I think the resulting story is godawful, I still think this list is very funny. I didn't even get around to using such comic gems as "Twinkie fucker" and "Poontang Beaversnatch". You win some, you lose some. I thought this would be a pretty funny tale but it's really just too forced, weird and idiotic. But, hey...I love that list. Most of all I love having this list in my coat pocket, scrawled on two crumpled sheets of paper with checkmarks on certain words and circles around others. This sort of thing always makes me feel slightly off balance, like a crazy person who has been taking dictation for an imaginary demon who lives inside of his head.
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