Story time

I was always a shy girl, never one to really taper with other people. I've always kept to myself, thinking the quicker I get things done, the better. But something changed when I met him. Yes, it's always about a boy, isn't it? But this boy- he's different. Not in a motorcycle punk rock bad boy or nerdy quiet but loveable sweetheart kind of way, but a ruler-of-the-known-universe-who-wants-to-destroy-humanity kind of guy. I know, hard to believe I'd fall in line with a guy like him, but it happened. It all started when I was in the library; I was going through the rows of books trying to find the "Divine Comedy" by Dante. I needed to study it for my English class, and I had put it off so much that the essay for the book was due that friday. When I finally found it, I went to pick it up, but a blue hand with large, sharp nails contested ownership over the book. I looked to see the face of the man who owned such a lovely hand, and saw nothing but black eye sockets and a yellow skull staring back at me.
"Oh, my mistake, I didn't mean to snatch this from you," the skull said.
I was frozen in disbelief. A living skull? How could this be? But I was also attracted to his demeanor. He wasn't like all the other guys. He wore a purple cape that draped around his entire body, and a breastplate made of bones. He wore nothing but purple tights and boots on his lower half, which, I admit, got me a bit flustered. He carried a large staff and always had his hood on. I recoiled a bit from him and smiled.
"Oh, why thank you, mister...?" I waited for him to answer.
"Skeletor. Master of the dark arts. Pleased to meet you, ma'am," He grasped my hand and put it to his mouth. I assume it was meant to be a kiss but, you know, no lips. Not that it mattered though, the gesture was just as kind, and I immediately took a liking to him.
"So, what's a guy like you need with Dante's greatest work?" I asked, smiling into those vacant sockets.
"Oh, I, uh, I need it to study this realm. Understand the Gods and masters of the known world here, so I can conquer it and rule the planet under my iron grip," he tightened a fist in front of him and became quite charming the more he talked about his conquest. I implored him to tell me more and we walked to my dorm while I held his waist.
When we got to my dorm, I invited him to sit on my bed, but with a wave of his staff, he conjured up a throne made of bones and skulls. I was befallen when I saw the capabilities of his magic, and my infatuation grew the more we talked.
"You see," he said in a signature twang, munching on a pizza, "I come from the land of Eternia, a mystical lands, compared to the likes of this world. Not a bad place, mind, but my intellect just wasn't suited there. Pardon me, I sound a bit snobbish," he wiped his mouth with a napkin. I couldn't help but know more of his magic, and when I asked him about it, he told me:
"Oh, sweetie, the whole ins and outs of magic are really complex. It would take approximately 22.8 years of training on your half to master it. But if you had a teacher as smart as I, you might master it in under- hmm... 2 years, maybe?" Just then I became excited to learn. I begged him to be my teacher, but I wanted so much more. With an empty look in his eyes (what more could he express, really?) he said to me "Of course I'll teach you! I'll need an army to conquer this world, and maybe to conquer Eternia as well!" He bellowed out the most beautiful laugh I'd ever heard. It sounded like a mixture between the intensity of a eagle's squawk, to the gentleness and fragility of a cat's meow.

The rough and loud clatter of the droplets outside created a soothing claustrophobic aurora inside the make-shift shack. Together, two men- one with a black eye and rough hair, the other having brownish red hair and a thick beard- huddled near a fire, brightly lit within a dusty fireplace; with blankets draped over their shoulders. They drank dank and thick coffee and occasionally traded off thoughts in conversation. The rain outside had picked up in the last hour, and the men found it hard to sleep in such conditions, especially with the thunder viciously howled outside. The lightning from the storm was unusually frequent, which concerned the men since the area around them was almost entirely foreign.
Suddenly, with great ferocity and with as much sound as the thunder behind it, the door flung open, and a dark figure stood, exhausted, but confident. The figure stepped into the shack, boots soaking, leaving small puddles in his wake. He approached the men at the fire, and drew back his hood. Underneath, another, younger man, whose face was red and hair weighed down by the thick precipitation, stared unblinkingly at the back of the two men’s heads.
“I’m back, guys,” a soft, youthful voice broke the awkward silence between the three. The young man brought a rucksack over his should and tossed it between the two men. “I’ve got a couple game, but nothing really extraordinary.”
“Good catch, boy!” a gruff voice spilled from the lips of the bearded man. He began to search through the rucksack, finding bits of animal already chopped up to be put on the splits. The bearded man jumped up and adjusted some cooking ware to be placed above the fire, while his black-eyed companion slowly straightened himself to a standing position.
“Find any trouble out there, Dante? The storm’s been giving us quite a thrill over your well-being,” he said to the young man.
“Not really, master. I mostly stayed low and away from open fields. The lightning, though, was more present than usual,” Dante said, wiping his face and head with a towel. He smiled at his master, hoping he pleased him with his new catch.
“It’s a fine batch ya got here, Dante, m’boy! ‘Nuff to feed us fer weeks!” the bearded man was enlightened. He slapped his rotund belly joyously and smiled heartily.
“Don’t get too carried away, Albert. It’s enough to feed us for weeks, but you’ll chow down on all of that in seconds,” the black eyed man chuckled.
“Hey, you shut it, Henry! I’m not afraid to give you a blacker eye than whatcha already got!” Albert jokingly pushed the black eyed man and returned to tending the food.
Dante picked up a stool and sat next to his two friends, who sat on an old, soft rug. Dante began telling them the methods in which he used to hunt for the load he brought in. He told them the ways he’d track prey, even in the rain which so easily washed things away. He had a keen eye for detail and noticed things others might have overlooked, which was the main reason Henry chose him as his apprentice. He then told them the ways in which he’d used the bow, compensating for wind for trajectory and still being able to go unseen by the prey. This was the main reason Albert admired him. Even at such a young age, it seemed he could calculate things almost as good as any veteran. Albert and Henry were proud to have such an adaptable protégé who was able to put all that they’ve taught him to use. But there was something he’d yet to prove to them. The ancient art they had mastered, and were aiming to pass down to the young boy.
The art of thievery.

Ishmel stormed into Annabelles room, his cock rock hard and his expression angry
“Something wrong, dear?” Annabelle quipped.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP aussie aussie aussie oi oi oi!” Ishmel belted out.
Ishmel grabbed a belt from the edge of the bed and began choking Annabelle with it. Through gags and coughs she managed to squeeze out a couple surprised screams of whys and the fuck is wrong with yous. Ishmel exposed his true intentions whilst still holding the belt around her stupid fucking throat.
“The gods have shown me the light! I must obey! If I don’t, they’ll destroy the world!” he cried
“WHAT THE FUCK” she responded
Ishmel let her go but thrown himself on her, his little jewish dick flopping about like a flounder that managed to skyrocket into a fisherman’s boat. He held her by her thin arms and whispered- not really, more like screamed- into her ear.
“Are you ready bitch?”
“Ready for what?”
“ready for the HEBREW HAMMER!!!”
Ishmel pulled back his arm and in a split second his hand went from a fist into a meaty hammer and met with her stupid fucking face, breaking her teeth and causing her to lose consciousness. Ishmel then ripped her stupid fucking monkey pajamas off and the blood fueling his adrenaline rush migrated to his cock, changing it from a pathetic wimpy little teeny peeny to a monstrous suffocater, and rammed it into her meat curtains.
“OY VEEY!” he howled.
In the midst of this vile and disgusting act against god, Annabelle regained consciousness and pulled herself off him.
“What the fuck has gotten into you? We’re room mates not fuck buddies!” she cried, tears streaming down her half naked body.
“YOM KIPPUR!” is the only answer Ishmel had
He then leaped out the window, body covered in blood, glass and excrement, and ran up to an officer.
“HEY PIGGY, PIGGY, DADDY WANNA PLAY” he shouted, dick in hand, furiously masturbating with the force of a howitzer cannon.
“What the fuck?” the officer said.
Ishmel then grabbed the cops gun, beat his dick against the man’s face, and shot him sixteen times in the chest and groin area. A crowd gathered somewhere along the 10th shot, and he took notice.
Ishmel, angered and horny, began whipping his dick around like a lasso of sexual fury, and beat people’s faces in with it, thrusting his cock into jaws, rectums and vaginal canals. It was a carnival of excess, fuck, and suck. It was some fucked up shit, to say the least. By now, the cops realized that they were porked (hyuck hyuck) and called in the national guard. The boys in blue began to gather with their guns at the ready to shoot some kike down and have him for dinner. As Ishmel approached the thin blue line, he saw the army he faced.
“YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE ON THE HEBREW HAMMER? YOU FOOLS”
Ishmel then held his dick like a machine gun and began shooting gigantic sperm cells at each and every officer. The streets were covered in semen and blood. No one survived.
By now the president caught wind of this shit and took to the airwaves.
“I am…Barack Obama… and… I’ve noticed… that there’s a giant jew cock on the loose… the… NSA is hard-on- I MEAN, hard at work to resolve the situation.” The president was calm and cool, charming and lovable to anyone who wasn’t of pale pigment.
Blackwater and a bunch of other shitheads of that type began to suit up in power armor to take this monster jew cock down. They all surrounded New York City, and cornered him with helicopters and tanks, securing him in a gridlock. But Ishmel was arrogant.
“YOU GODDAMN HERETICS NEVER LEARN DO YOU?” his cock was loaded and cocked like a Kalashnikov.
Suddenly, bullets and semen drenched the thick, humid summer air. Screams and cries were heard miles away from the city, blood adorned the walls of buildings and pooled up on the sidewalk. When the dust settled, there was only fire, blood, semen, and bitches with broken cunts. Ishamel was proud amongst these fuckedest of cunts, standing tall with his cock still harder than ever. He then went to Thompkins Square; hopefully to find some hobo to suck his cock or something.
Suddenly, when approaching the park, he noticed there were some crust punks gathered to play a nice festival. Ishmel loved crust punk! So he mingled with them, and got into the mosh pit, where he beat every punk’s face in with his horse cock. When he got bored, he let people snort crack and chop up painkillers on his cock whilst telling stories about the old gods and how everyone should love them. Then he recognized the singer for one of the bands. Why it was none other than Stza! Stza and Ishmel were old friends in the synagogue before Stza burned it down and pissed on the Torah.
“Hey there Stz!” he quipped.
“Izzy! I’m glad you could make it! What’s goin’ on?” cheerfully replied Ol’ Dirty Stza.
“Not much, just killed some cops with my cock.”
“Yeah I noticed that thing was out again. So how’s college?”
“Gay.”
“Yeah fuck college. Wanna go burn down some churches?”
And burn some churches they did. They tagged ‘em, vandalized them, sprayed graffiti on the walls and pissed on a priest who was in the midst of fucking a choir boy. It was great. You shoulda been there.
Suddenly, the cops appeared!
“Fuck! I can’t go back to jail! The new album comes out this summer! Only in selected stores and online at the Fat Wreck Chords and Alternative Tentacles websites!” screamed Osama Stz’Laden.
“Oh no! That’s horrible!” said Ishmel (I almost forgot this aussie aussie aussie oi oi oi’s name lmao)
“What are we gonna do?!”
Suddenly, Ishmel came up with a plan!
“I’ve got it! Hold on tight, Stz!”
Ishmel grabbed the five 40 ounces stza had in his backpack and started chugging them. Suddenly, he had the urge to piss.
“Grab on!” he commanded.
“Fuck your authority, but okay!” replied Stz.
And with tenacious fury, he pissed so fucking hard, that it caused them to sky rocket, up into space, and to the moon. This didn’t seem right to Ishmel, as he noticed Stz was choking on absolutely no air whatsoever since it’s fucking space, so they went back down to earth, in Australia. There, they landed in Logan, Queensland, right in the room of one Jesse James Lye, who was in the midst of writing a pornographic story, in competition with his best friend from America.
“What the fuck, cunts? That was me fuckin’ roof m8.” He said.
“Yeah sorry, man. Just running from cops.” said Stza.
“Oh that’s alright. Wanna grab some noodles?” asked Jess.
“Do I!” exclaimed Ishmel.
So they went to 7/11 and grabbed some noodles. In the midst of eating, Izzy realized he was losing his boner.
“Aw man. No more boner” Izzy sadly quipped.
“It’s alright, man. It was a good hard-on while it lasted.” said Stz.
“Yeah, speaking of which, put your kauknbaulz away, mate. I’m trying to eat.” requested Jess.
“Alright, man. Sorry.”
“Hey, Stza, why don’t you go by Floyd’s house and give him a kiss for me?”
“Sounds good to me man. That guy is so hot. I’m thinking of giving him 20 hookers for his birthday.”
“Man I wish I could suck his cock.”
“I know Jess.”
Then Stz came to my house and we smoked crack and fucked bitches and I wrote a couple songs for the new album. I still have some time left on this shitty story so I’m going to write some unnecessary shit then grab some water or something. I really like these Pringles my mom gave me. My hip hurts. I’m tired. I wish I had a monster Hebrew cock. I hope I can make money off this shit. Probably not. But that’d be nice. It’ll be my clockwork orange. Are we done yet? Ice Cube is my favorite NWA member. RIP Eazy. What the fuck is MC Ren doing? Why are dykes more perverted then guys? Isn’t that weird? All the dykes I know are like that. I really want to play Oblivion right now. I’m gonna let stz write something.

Jesse’s gay. - Signed Sturgeon T. Hipster.