Douchebag's Sodomy Baby

[Jay in Phoenix]

Somewhere, just on the outskirts of Pittsburgh:

An elephantine figure limps along a back alley, his puffy face a twisted mask of blood and bruises. His once bright pink polo is torn and spotted with dark red blotches. The seat and crotch of his khakis are coated in a thick brown muck. As he approaches a dilapidated van, he spies through his blackened eyes a slack jawed man in a beer and sweat stained wife beater hoisting a 40 of Steel Reserve.

“Rollins, you gotta help me!” he plead, holding his hands to his bulbous guts.

“What the fuck..? Douchebag, what the hell happened to you? You done got the croup again?” Rollins replied, flipping through a copy of “Oral Sex with Retards, the Do’s and the Don’ts!”

“I, I, I…” Douchebag stammered.

“Well, come on dude, spit it out!”

“I just…I just got molested by a bunch of Mexicans.”

“You got fucked up by some spics?” Rollins replied, spraying stale beer foam.

“No you moron, I got FUCKED by some spics…and Satan too, I think.” Douchebag answered, starting to swoon. Something low and ominous rumbled from his stomach.

“Ah, godammit Douchebag, if you’re going to do eight-balls and sniff turpentine again, you gotta fuckin’ share that shit!”

Douchebag’s face reddened with anger, in spite of his obvious agony. “Fuck, would you listen to me a minute you ASS. See, it was all set. It was all gravy…mmm, gravy…and I was set to pull the trigger on PSUFAN, when I suddenly see this big, pale white fat dude lying on the ground. His pants were down around his ankles and his butt was up in the air. I think it was Steiner, and I think he was dead.”

Rollins stared blankly at Douchebag. What else could he do?

“So buddy, you know what was up. I forgot all about PSUFAN and dropped MY trou and started, you know, getting all jiggy with it. Just when it started getting good, some weird shit happened. Steiner’s body started bucking and moaning and out of nowhere these goddamn Mexicans appeared. They were everywhere. One of ‘em grabbed me and flipped me over and smiled; “Hey marichon, you sweet. I tink I gonna stuff your back taco, eh?” And just like that he starts busting my booty like a jackhammer on steroids.”

“Damn…” whispered Rollins. About this time Stevo appeared from the van, smoothing down his hair plugs with one hand, adjusting the volume on his Power Ranger head-set with the other. “’Sup niggazz!” he giggled. “Guess what I just heard...”

‘Sh-mack!’

Rollins whacked Stevo in the head with his 40. Hairplugs and beer went flying. “Shut the fuck up dude, boss is talkin’ here!”

“Owie…” Stevo whimpered.

“Anyway,” Douchebag sighed with a wince. “I was saying, all these beaners were clapping and laughing and tossing their damn leaf blowers in the air in victory as this damn vato was rammin’ me. All of a sudden his face changed, got real red and mean looking, and a couple of fuckin’ horns sprouted out of his hair. It was Satan his own damn evil self, having his way with my sweet ass. It was hell goddamn it, I was in hell!”

Rollins shook his head. “Boss, I told you, if you’re gonna sniff turpentine, you got to share. That’s code man, that's YOUR code.

Douchebag stiffened then, grabbing his ass. “AHHH! My butt! Holy fuck, there’s something moving inside me!”

The back of Douchebag’s khakis ripped open, and a torrent of shit and bile exploded in a Vesuvian shutyomouth. “OW! OW! OW! AHHHHHHHHH!” Douchebag shrieked. Another wave of anal discharge bubbled out, followed by a loud ‘POP’. A black and red ball fell to the earth. There was a ‘hissing’ noise, followed by a twisting curl of white smoke, and an acrid stench filled the air. A tiny form rose out of the steaming pile and dusted itself off. “Hiya fellas!” it said happily. “You must be my mommy!”

It gazed longingly at Douchebag. Picture a pint-sized devil as drawn by Disney, complete with horns, a twitching devil tail, and an uncircumcised, two-foot long phallus. It was smiling a beatific smile, one huge tooth in the center of its mouth. It had the large, round, eyes of an anime character.

“Well, you didn’t take after momma.” Said Rollins, gazing in awe at the hellspawns’ junk. “You know boss, that’s like the fifth unfortunate “event” to involve your butthole this year.

“Shut up bitch.” Douchebag mumbled.

Something fluttered past Douchebags’ ear. “Butterfwy!” the demon tittered, chasing the colorful flying creature. Its' now two and a half foot dong bounced on the ground behind it, playing tag with his own tail.

“Now that’s something you just don’t see everyday.”

The trio of Stevo, Rollins and the moaning Douchebag looked up as one. A mysterious figure had appeared in front of them, shadowed head to toe in black. The long folds of his coat waved dramatically, and he tipped a lengthy finger to the brim of his black cowboy hat. His gaze was stoic, his eyes icy. “Looks like you got yourself a little problem.”

“Who the hell are you?” Rollins belched. Sour beer breath followed. The stranger flinched slightly. “Altoid?” he asked. Rollins belched again and farted. “I’m good.” He said.

“Names Tulsa…David N. Tulsa. There’s some call me Doc Crookfinger. I go by many names. The stranger smiled. “I also happen to be a licensed exorcist, and you’ve obviously got a demon issue.”

“Butterfwy, butterfwy, butterfwy!” the imp squealed, as fire shot from the tip of his three-foot weenie, torching the insect. “Eeeeee-heeee! Fwunny!” the demon laughed, clapping its’ cloven hands together. The imp had now manifested a pink polo shirt and a puka shell necklace. “I jus’ wike Mommy now!”

Douchebag swooned with faint.

“Isn’t that cute, the little fucker looks just like you Douchebag!” Stevo quipped. Another 40 shot past, clipping his head, whisking away his last greasy hair plug. “Asshole” Stevo snapped at Rollins. “Ass bandit.” Rollins burped. They hugged each other and sighed.

“Buncha goddamn fruits up in this bitch.” The stranger said. “Still, got some exorcising to do.” He reached into a pocket in the lining of his coat, producing a pair of ice tongs and a big wooden mallet. “Got to send little Beelzebutt back from where he came.”

“Can I have a hug too?” the devil said, his doe eyes misting. “Sure little friend, just close your eyes and you’re going to feel a HUGE hug.” The demon giggled and jumped up and down, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Its’ body was now mostly one massive boner. “Come here you.” The stranger said, picking the demon up with the tongs by the tip of his ‘head’. “You might wanna grease up there Douchebag.” He said grimly.

“Uh, errr…we ran out last night.” Douchebag said, looking up at Stevo and Rollins. They just shrugged their shoulders.

“Oh well. Baby devil, say hello again to momma!”

The stranger thrust the baby with all his might up Douchebags blood and shit splattered sphincter. “GAAAHHH!” roared Douchebag. The baby vanished up his poop chute.

“Is that it, is it over?” gasped Douchebag as sweat poured over his fat face. There was a liquid sounding fwoosh and another loud ‘pop’. The demon baby’s head poked out of Douchebags’ anus like a big red zit. “Can you help an old altar boy out, father?” it said in a low voice. “Nuh-uh, not that easy.” said the stranger. “Batter up!” he yelled, swinging the mallet with full force and fury into Douchebags butt.

WHAM!

[pop]

“Why Dimi, why? Why you do ‘dis to me?”

WHAM!

[pop]

“Your mother sucks cocks in hell.”

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

“And now for the holy ritual.” The stranger said. He pulled a firearm from his coat.

“Shotgun abortion time baby.”

With that he pulled the trigger, blasting Douchebag in his massive guts. The fat loser wailed. “I’m hit! You killed me you fucking idiot!” He blacked out cold. “What a whiner, it was just rock salt.” The stranger said. “Guess my work is done.” The cell phone clipped to his belt buzzed. He snapped it open. “Is it over?” PSUFAN asked on the other end. “Oh yeah, the crew’s little adventure in Pittsburgh is finished. See ya’ at the bar.” He snapped the phone shut.

Rollins and Stevo were weeping over the prostrate Douchebag. They collapsed on top of him. “Our boss, our poor boss.” They wept. Deep inside their lizard brains, instinct took over and they began humping him.

“Goddamn hillbillies and their goddamn hillbilly sex. You think they would learn.” And with that he walked away down the alley.

Just another night in Pittsburgh.

[MgoBlue-LightSpecial]

That's a rack.

[Qbert]

outFUCKINGstanding!

[PSUFAN]

Rack the first-hand account. Dave took care of fucking BIZNISS. I bought him a few beers for hooking that up for me.

[Douchebag]

i might be boarding a plane to phoenix in less than 72 hours.

you will die

[Stevo]

Just say the word boss and I'll book your flight. The sooner this fuck is dead the better.

Oh, and it's real nice to be able to say "book a flight." We've got the money for that now. Our number of financial contributors from this board has increased to about 15 people now. One guy in particular is depositing $1500 a week into D-Bag's paypal account. Douchebag even quit his night shift at Video Master because the cash is flowing like a Miller Lite tap on a Friday night.

Things are running real smoothly.

[L45B]

One guy in particular is depositing $1500 a week into D-Bag's paypal account.

So if my math is correct, that's $300 a blowjob, given that Douchewitz gets the weekend off to plug himself.

[War Wagon]

I've been away from the board for awhile

Sheep shearing season again?

[Mike Backer]

i might be boarding a plane to phoenix in less than 72 hours.

Might? Quit being a fucking vagina and do it already, Sling Blade.

[Mister Bushice]

Holy shit.

Rack Jay, although a rack seems somewhat less than sufficient for that blast.

“You know boss, that’s like the fifth unfortunate “event” to involve your butthole this year."

Fucking awesome. :)