- ASSHAT & Master of Time
- Posts: 32532
- Joined: July 13th 2010, 10:00pm
“Bad doggie!” I heard Alison scream over the sound of the rotating helicopter blades. “Get the fuck up, you bad doggie!”
Wilsie just lay there and looked up into the sky, making no motion to get up. Somewhere along the line one of the earpieces of his glasses had gotten lost, and now they laid crookedly across his face, making him look even more pitiful than I’d ever seen just about anyone look before.
“I said get the fuck up, you bad fucking doggie!” Alison screamed, this time louder and more hysterically. “NOW, you motherfucker!”
Wilsie stayed where he was and continued to ignore his ‘mistress.’
And that’s when it happened, and it happened fast.
Alison reached down toward her other ‘doggy’ and grabbed the narrow end of the of the wooden mandrel protruding from his ass, literally ripped it out – causing Skelly to scream in a manner normally reserved for pigs being slaughtered – and began to beat Wilsie with the heavy end, including the feces-laden handle that had been in Jumbloat’s bunghole.
Wilsie was as surprised as everyone else up on that roof, and tried to roll away from Alison’s savage attack, but this only made her more angry, and she swung the thick, heavy end of the mandrel like it weighed nothing, hitting him repeatedly about his head and chest. His glasses literally exploded against the bridge of his nose and forehead, spattering his hairless pate with fresh blood and half-dried shit from the filthy handle. He tried to rise, only to have the heavy club crash down between his pale shoulder blades, driving him back down into the hard little roof pebbles that began to stick to him as he bled more freely.
He made one more desperate attempt to stand, getting up on his knees, and that was when Alison threw an undercut swing that smashed into his rubber-clad scrotum and caused his testicles to shatter in much the same way a meatball might be shattered by a big league ballplayer hitting it with a bat. The only difference was that the thick, rubber genitalia pocket didn’t offer any real protection from the blow, but it did keep them from flying apart
Posted by Mort, who never uses profanity, 4 April, 2014, in Skip Connelly's Cri de Coeur.
viewtopic.php?f=14&t=25039&hilit=skip+c ... &start=100
I'm glad that he's found a friendly, well-lit corner of the interwebz to feel superior in.