I Hate You, You Stupid Flower

I am full of love for the New Wave.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Raging Hope: Street Law

This is an excerpt from a screenplay I'm finishing for a soon-to-enter pre-production film entitled "Raging Hope: Street Law." It will star Senator John McCain as "The Vet" and Senator Barack Obama as "The Rook."

NOTE: Due to blog contraints this isn't properly formatted.

The following takes place after an action-packed credit sequence followed by an electric guitar wailing on the same note for about thirty seconds.



VET hustles through the doors, looking mad as hell and pushing past a couple of girls brought in on charges of prostitution.

PROSTITUTE #1: Hey Vet, long time no see.

VET: Shaddup Cherry, the shit just hit the fan and I gotta go wipe off the chief's face.

VET continues into the chief's office.

PROSTITUTE #2: I don't see what you like about that fuzz.

PROSTITUTE #1: Fuzz? More like a forest. He's a POW who lives up to the name... POW!


CHIEF: Vet, give me one reason I shouldn't grab your badge and kick your wrinkled ass out on the DC streets.

VET: You're looking mighty nice today Chief, did your wife buy you a new tie?

CHIEF: Don't try to shine my ass, Vet, do you know what kind of mess you dumped in my hands? I've got four bodies - full of your shotgun shells - and dozens of schmucks from the press sticking their heads up my ass looking for an answer. And what do I have to tell them? Some geezer on the force decided to go Rambo because one of them looked at him the wrong way.

VET: (Vein twitches on his forehead and mouth curls into skeleton smile) Those bums were dealers, Chief, and you know it. Hell, their bodies are practically encased in coke: they were pushers. House full of guns and smack, you can come up with something to tell the press. Plus...

CHIEF: Oh, here it comes....

VET: I know they were connected to Wolf's murder.

CHIEF: Not this again.

VET: Wolf. W-O-L-F. How can you pretend it didn't happen? Our best cop snuffed out by the drug-pushing street trash of this town. Wolf was a good man, a good officer and the best damn partner I've ever had. And I've had a lot of partners.

CHIEF (Visibly irritated) Listen, Vet, I miss him as much as you do, but even if a heroin addict pushed my wife off a cliff it doesn't give me free reign to give four dealers a wake-up call of hot lead!

VET: I can prove it. I can prove these bums were working for the guy behind all this. Don't you want to get Wolf's killer? This town is up to it's eyes in coke and I know the guy that slashed Wolf is behind it.

CHIEF: I need proof.

VET: And I need time. Just trust me. I'll make things better.

CHIEF: By using the same failed tactics that put us in this media shitstorm in the first place? I dunno, Vet.

VET: For old time sake...

CHIEF: God, I must be crazy. Well, I knew you was gonna come in hear with your song and dance and I knew I could afford to give you one last chance... but I'm putting an insurance policy on you. I'm giving you a new partner.

VET: I work alone now.

CHIEF: You work like a cowboy and it's time we get some law and order in your head. Meet Rook.

THE ROOK saunters into the office and folds his arms in front of his chest, staring at VET.

ROOK: Wassup, baby?

VET swivels in his chair to face CHIEF.

VET: Very funny. Now can I get out of here and solve this thing?

CHIEF: No joke, Vet. Rook graduated at the top of his class - he's the best addition to the force this year. He has a way of talking to people, of getting things out of them. I want you two to take to the streets immediately, and together, I think you can figure out who killed Wolf.

VET: Take him to the streets? I'll bet he doesn't even know the difference between a dealer and one of his home boys!

ROOK: Watch your mouth, fat man. I can handle myself.

VET: Listen, kid, I'm sure you scored real high on all the fancy tests they have you kids take these days. But do you know how to take to the streets as a man of the law, to march through DC knowing if there's going to be justice, it's gotta come through your fingers? Have you even seen any action?

ROOK: Shit man, I've seen plenty of action.

VET: I ain't talkin' affirmative, Rookie. I'm talking a shotgun in your face, hostage to your right and only one bullet left in your piece. Can you defend this town, much less yourself?

ROOK: Don't overwork your pacemaker. I can handle myself.

VET: Chief, I'm doing this alone.

CHIEF: Vet, you're doing this with Rook, or I'll have your badge.

VET: Shakes head and stands up) Alright, punk, let's go. But one warning: don't stand in my way! I know what needs to be done and I'm not having some fast-talking upstart get in my way.

ROOK Cool it, gramps. We're on the same team here.

VET Well, if we're on the same team, maybe it's time I retire....

Monday, July 23, 2007

Helios, Let Me Be

This morning I was reminded how cruel sunlight can be when uninvited rays of yellow pierced through my eyelids, ripping me from blissful unconsciousness and back into the world around me.

I surmised my surroundings, pulling in details of the foreign room around me. Overturned orange bottles, emptied of the local brew they played host to not so long ago, dotted a small wooden dresser near the bed. Five by seven glossy prints were haphazardly posted about the walls, testifying to any newcomers to the room that this person was, in fact, a Dionysian party animal with a variety of friends, each comrade clearly capable of freezing a hazy, fun-lovin' smile on their face for posterity.

Oh, why must one day inevitably lead to the next. Why is life a a malicious march of time to be endured? I felt so much disappointment toward the rhythmic march, but not enough that I might actually bother to extricate myself from the offending situation. Such is the limbo of my mind that prevents me from engaging in or rejecting the world about me.

I put aside the questions to address a more pressing query.

Who had I gone home with?

Turning over slowly in bed, my bones aching with discomfort, I tugged at the sheets spread over the softly breathing creature next to me. As I watched him, memories of last night came back to me within the space of a blink.

A ferret. I had been wooed and taken home by an affluent, college-age ferret whose fur coat glowed with an alluring blend of cinnamon and lily white hues.

Perhaps it had been a hasty decision - after all, as I recalled, Frankie had been the first ferret I had met on my bar crawl last night. He had been a fast mover. Within ten minutes I had gone from the object of his gaze over a pair of dark sunglasses to the bouncing blonde on his knee, giggling at his accurate, if not slightly obtuse, observations on the elements of Chekhovian tragicomedy that had worked their way into the third season of "King of Queens."

But when you live fast and intend to die young, you don't have time to get the biography of each person you use to achieve the temporary distraction of an explosive orgasm.

As I gazed upon Frankie, his left paw gently nuzzling his pink nose as his thoughts cascaded through a dream world consisting, I imagine, of peanut butter, bananas and his next conquest, I slowly slipped out from his velvety sheets. I glared at the rays of sun, angry that they were so insistent I be forced to recall in the truth of daylight what I did the night before.

You might best me every day, you burning ball of gas, but unlike you I have the more promising fate. In a limited number of years I can escape this dull, indifferent world, but you in your celestial throne must be forced to watch it, even give life to its confused inhabitants whether you like it or not for centuries to come.

Another day, another ferret.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Riding Peach Beach, Part III

King Toadstool simply didn't know what to do. Mario had risked his lives many times to save his daughter from the clutches of Bowser and various koopa kids. Mario had repeated returned him to his original state after their shared enemies turned him into all sorts of toads and birds. Mario was a hero; Mario was like a son to him.

Mario's cock was teasing his beloved daughter's inner cheek.

He watched, disabled by helpless shock, as Princess Peach ran her lips over Mario's stubby member faster than the wiliest Fishin' Lakitu. Tears and thin lines of blood ran over her closed eyes as Mario placed his hands on his hips with obvious satisfaction.

What disturbed him most was not the sight of a fat plumber's fat plunger in his sweet child's mouth. Nor was it the over-sized, semi-retarded gorilla that was ramming her shithole like there was no tomorrow. No, it was the look of tranquility on Peach's face. The look of absolute peace and pleasure that marked her face as she accepted two cocks into her body at once.

And what cocks! Donkey Kong's king-sized dick slid in and out of her with such ease, covered in fur and vaginal juices. His tongue stupidly lolled out of his mouth as he shook Peach around like a rag doll. King Toadstool watched his daughter's large, pillowy breasts smack into each other as D.K. made her his bitch. Mario was at this point running his fingers along his mustache, apparently concerned that his facial hair might not be perfectly arranged at the moment he blew hot white cum over the princess's eyes.

"Daddy!" The exclamation reached the king's ears as if from a distant foreign land, spoken of in some near-forgotten fairy tale. He hardly felt any connection to the world around him; he was consumed with waves of confusion that drowned his floundering concentration.


But the voice was familiar. He knew that. It was his daughter's. Wait, he had a daughter?

"Hey, answer the whore so I can a-put my sausage back in her!" Mario shouted angrily at him. King Toadstool came reeling back to reality. Mario was still standing with his hands on his hips but his cock swung free in the air, hovering in front of his daughter's face, throbbing with excitement. Peach was looking at him with one of those, 'C'mon, I don't have all day' faces and D.K., seemingly unaware of the implications of the situation, had merely slowly down his thrusts.

"Daddy, could I please have some privacy?"

"What do you think you're doing? Your mother, may she rest in peace, didn't spend 30 hours pushing you out so you could fill every hole in your body with a throbbing cock!"

Peach looked hurt. "Daddy...."

"How do you think this makes me feel? To walk in on my beloved sweetie with two dongs in her, to see you covered in sweat and blood, loving every minute of this ecstasy... to see your soft breasts hanging in the air while a foot-long cock reams your ass...."

"Dad, there's a bulge in your pants."

And it was true. The old man's wiener had begun to push at his shorts with rhythmic regularity. In spite of his confusion and anger at finding an animal and a man he regarded as a son fucking his supposedly virginal daughter, King Toadstool was getting hot.

"Well, let's just say I can forget this whole thing. Under one condition."

"What's that?" Peach's face filled with uncertainty.

"Me and the boy have a little sword fight. Just know that I get to finish on your face."

Peach's furrowed eyebrows relaxed with relief.

"Not if I cum first!" Mario jested, his belly jiggling.

And with that King Toadstool and Mario began to fence, smacking their dicks against each other for a good two minutes before inserting them into Peach's mouth. As it turned out, Mario was quicker to the draw and spooged over Peach's bloody face well-before the old man was even fully hard. King Toadstool contented himself with jacking off in front of them until Donkey Kong took pity and helped their ruler by running his gigantic tongue over the king's admittedly shriveled scrotum. When the king came, every clapped and had a good laugh. Mario then took the koopa shell, kicked it into the king's face and fucked D.K. in the ass while the monkey rammed Peach in the pussy until she came loudly for at least one minute.


Friday, January 12, 2007

Riding Peach Beach, Part II

Princess Peach fumbled for words as Mario shook his head at the sight of a Donkey Kong's dick inside his soul mate.

"Mario, I... I thought you were questing!"

"Mario only go on a quest when the princess in trouble. Is the princess in a-trouble?" Mario asked, his eyes slitting while his fist tightened around a red koopa shell.

"Oh, no, everything is just fine."

"No," Mario said, his eyes dancing with fire. "You in a-trouble."

With that he dropped the shell and kicked it into Peach's face. Closing her eyes and biting her lower lip, Peach felt the turtle shell smack into her face and thought she heard a cracking noise from her nose. She opened her tearing eyes to see Mario pick up the shell which had bounced back into his hand. Blood was beginning to trickle from her nose.

"You know red, is-a my faaaavorite color," Mario said, never once taking his eyes off DK's dick in his girlfriend's vagina while he spoke to her.

"I know, honey."

"Why you do this to a-me?"

"You knew what you were getting when you got me. You knew how bad I need it and how often I needed it and that you just weren't enough for me. So why is it okay if Toad eats me out every now and then but DK in my pussy is some sort of sin!"

"Toad give a-good head, I can understand that. But the Donkey Kong, he used to steal you and throw the barrels at me. Mario feel kinda sore over shit like that."

"How can a sin feel this good?" she asked, her wet eyes pleading with him. Noticing his hand tightening around the shell once again, she knew she had to work fast. Not with her hands like DK, but with her words and his imagination.

"Have you ever wanted to see two sides of me full at once?"

Mario's eyebrows raised. Peach started teasing her left cheek with her tongue. "That's funny..." she said, trailing off.


"I feel something on my cheek. Oh, I know what it is. I think my mouth has your name written on it."

Mario smiled bashfully and put the shell on the ground. "You know Mario like the cherry swirl, and we already half-a-way there."

"Oh, babe-"

But before Peach could continue Mario did a triple jump through the air and landed hard with his cock in her mouth. Her eyes widened with surprise, her throat loosened and she began to work her mouth back and forth on her man's member. DK, noticing the tension was over, began to happily pound away, this time at her supple ass.

But little did any of them know that King Toadstool, the ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom, was watching Mario and DK make a coffee table out of his daughter and he was very, very displeased....

Friday, November 03, 2006

Riding Peach Beach

"How bold of you."

Princess Peach's words hung in the air as she stared into the vacant face of Donkey Kong. "I always knew you were a big boy." Staring at her stupidly, DK scratched his head with a big, furry paw and drooled slightly out of the left corner of his mouth.

Licking the tips of her ruby red lips, Peach issued forth a wind chime-like laugh. "Silly boy, you don't even know what's happening, do you?" Walking up to DK, Peach delicately lifted up his gigantic, furry brown member with the tips of her fingers. It was hanging so low that it teased the grass below them, and only after Peach had wrapped her fingers around it and given it a playful tug did DK realize what was happening. Slobbering and searching his brain for the appropriate growl, DK only succeeding in letting his massive tongue fall out of his mouth.
"Oh, you don't know what to do, do you? This is all new to you. How could such a-" Peach paused, looking at his manhood and gasping slightly, "Big boy be so naive in the ways of life."

DK stared at her blankly as his man-root hardened and raised off the ground. "You're in luck, because Mario is on a quest and I'm in the mood to teach a lesson."

Grabbing his manhood by both pale, delicate hands, Peach began to slowly caress him. DK responded with a guttural moan and watched his member grow to thrice its size. Running her eyes up and down his penis, Peach began to pant slightly, consumed with excitement for the moment that she could feel that furry phallus inside her.

Furiously stroking his member, Peach squealed with glee as DK reached down and pinched off her entire pink dress with one paw. "Oh, God. I think you're ready to move on to the next level."

Her pink dainties silently slipped to the floor, leaving nothing between her and Donkey Kong other than pure, unadulterated lust. Moving forward, DK chewed his lip and testingly prodded her full chest with his man-root. At first Peach playfully batted it, whacking it back and forth, but after it had hung in the air for some time she began to realize something was wrong.

"Hmm? What's the matter?"
"Gaaaaaah," Kong said, scratching his gigantic, dangling scrotum.
"You don't know what to do again? Didn't your mama teach you anything?"
Getting down on all fours, Peach turned around and offered herself up to him.
"Once you're hard, it's not that hard to figure out. Give me a try."

Tentatively poking her waiting mons, DK eventually worked up the courage to insert himself fully into the Princess' body. Letting loose a low groan, Peach's fingers tore at the grass beneath her. "Now, all you have to do is-" Peach began to say, but before she could finish she found herself crying out with the delight and pain of that first thrust. DK grabbed both sides of her bottom with his rough paws and pounded away at her, ramming himself in and out of her with a feverish pace only seen on select 150cc races.

"You are making me so wet!" Peach exclaimed, and it was true. DK could tell by the ease with which he was reentering her body that her fluids were flowing faster than the tide on Peach Beach. Screaming and moaning, Peach collapsed face-first into the grass below and began biting down hard into the earth. DK was moving so fast and so large she felt as if she might split in half, but his pounding banana was too irresistible for her to tell him to slow down.

"Oh, ahhh, right there," she moaned, heavily breathing and closing her eyes with complete satisfaction. Just as she felt she might explode in pleasure, a familiar voice invaded her ears.

"It's-a-me, Mario!"

DK stopped pounding. Peach's eyelids shot open. With DK's cock still inside her, Peach slowly turned around to see Mario staring at her, a koopa shell in his right hand and bloodlust in his eyes.

to be continued...

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Rain, the Eraser of Memories

Rain. Just when life seems like one big joke with a punchline no one can remember, along comes rain. Rain, with its murky gray clouds that obscure the sun, blot out the blue sky and fills human hearts with a pervading sense of gloom.

But rain blesses us with more than a fuliginous sky and human misery. As a great man once said, it washes memories off the sidewalk of life. And what is life if not a concrete slab, a lifeless mass of rock that is constantly trampled upon but rarely pondered? A dull gray path that cracks and crumbles until it is reset with a wet mixture, prompting self-absorbed children to place their handprints in it. Ha! Such self-glorification, such nostalgic masturbation in those so young. As if future generations care to look at their handprints and remember the lives of a few insignificant munchkins.

Future generations will be no different than ours: They will do nothing more than scurry over the sidewalk of life, ignoring what it really is and thinking only of arriving at their next meal, meeting or movie. Do we pause and marvel at these handprints? Never. We walk over them, we spit upon them and let our housepets shit on them.

Life is nothing but a cold concrete slab people hustle and bustle over until their end. The only relief is the rain which washes over it, erasing our past and allowing us to fade into oblivion. Leave no record of your life behind. It is an affront to reality.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Subway to Insanity

What is more satisfying than a sandwich from Subway? I can think of numerous things, not least among them having dysentery while being strapped to the electric chair. Oh, Subway, bane of my life and a scourge upon chain restaurants! Why must the most ubiquitous healthy-alternative restaurant in our nation remind my taste buds of maggots and pubic hair sandwiched between pieces of soggy cardboard?

My mouth pleads for mercy when I find myself lunching with one of its brainwashed converts, who shuns burgers and insists that the Cold Cut Trio "ain't half bad." Indeed, it "ain't" half bad, my Philistine friend: It is three quarters bad, rounded out with a solid one quarter of mediocrity.

Oh, why does not our society tear its hair and beat its breasts at this plague on our souls and children? To think of Subway's detestable insistence upon using iceberg lettuce. Iceberg is aptly named, for it is lettuce that will prove to sink the Titanic that is our culture. America, a lumbering, over-decorated behemoth that feels nothing could sink it. Little do we know we are already at the bottom of the sea, freezing in the waters of our own indifference!

Not to mention the Neanderthals that Subway employs to serve us a heaping helping of blandness. Some unfortunate souls can only type at a ratio of 30 words per minute. Subway goes out of its way to find those special someones who process speech at 30 words per minute.

And the few employees who can operate normally are stricken by the assumption that they deserve to be in Mensa because they can correctly pronounce the words Asiago and jalapeƱo.
They scorn you if you hesitate in deciding what accoutrements to compliment your sandwich with. They glow with smug superiority after asking what kind of bread you want your sandwich on for the third time.

You think you're smart because you can't hear what I'm saying? You think you're smart because you require me to shout my bread preferences as if the building were on fire?
For the last time, parmesan oregano you deaf tart! My mouth is hoarse with shouting and the look of satisfaction on your face keeps growing as my heart keeps sinking.

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