I unlocked the door to 12th story apartment overlooking downtown Cleveland. I threw down my keys and coat then turned on the light.
The local gangster, Gregg Poppovich, was pointing a gun at me. “What do you want with Art McGarth, Jack?” he asked as he lifted a stogie to his mouth.
“I’m investigating his death, Gregg,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Of course not,” he replied, “I just didn’t want you pointing the finger at me.”
“Now why would I want to do something like that?” I asked while I studied him over.
Gregg laughed and put the pistol away in his holster. “I didn’t suppose you did,” he said, “you’re too smart for that.”
“But you must know something. Or else you wouldn’t have broken into my apartment.”
He laughed some more. “Of course,” he said, “that’s why I’m paying you a visit. It’s neither organized crime nor police corruption. There’s a madman loose out there, Jack. I don’t know much more than you, but watch your back.”
“Thanks for your concern, Gregg. But I have the Lord’s protection. Besides, why kill McGarth? He must have had some connections.”
“Not McGarth,” Gregg said, “but the two prostitutes. They’re disappearing all over the city. I’m telling you, Jack, it’s a Jack the Ripper kind of situation.”
“A serial killer?” I laughed, “in a city like Cleveland? Never heard of such a thing.”
“I’m not crazy, Jack. I don’t believe in that silly God of yours, but I do believe in the Devil. And he’s here in this city. So you better watch yourself.”
“I’ll pray on it,” I said, “and I’ll pray for you and your Salvation. May the Lord guide you towards the Light.”
Gregg left and I took a shit. All that scotch and nicotine was running through me. I absolutely destroyed that toilet.
When I walked out of the bathroom, Sally was lying on the bed. “Jesus Christ, Jack!” she said while puffing on a cigarette, “someone light a match!”
I closed the door and loosened my tie. “You shouldn’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” I said. “What are you doing here? I should really change the locks to this place.”
“Just paying you a visit,” she replied while hiking up her skirt to expose her gorgeous legs. “Have you found out anything about Art McGarth? Seeing as we’re both investigating his death.”
“His murder appears to have been collateral damage,” I said. “Other than that, I know nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Sally asked as she unbuttoned her blouse.
“Sally, I don’t know what you’re expecting to happen here. You know I don’t know what to do with a woman. I’ve never had sex!”
“I could show you,” she said as she lowered her shirt to expose her shoulders.
“No thanks,” I replied, “I don’t believe in sex before marriage. Now please leave.”
After she left, I straightened out the bed, loaded one round into the revolver of my .38, spun it, pointed it at my head, and pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
“Thank you, Lord, for always watching out for me,” I prayed. Then I went to bed.
I always sleep better after a game of Russian Roulette.
It’s been a LONG time since I wrote a story. So here’s a goddamn story.
Sorry about all the sacrilegious stuff lately. I’m just working through stuff
Like I always say: I ain’t promising that this story will be good.
“Cleveland. Shit,” I uttered to myself. “Still only in Cleveland.”
“What’s that, Jack?” the Chief asked.
“Nothing, Chief,” I replied. “It’s just that I’ve been stuck in this godforsaken city for the last two months.”
“Eh,” the Chief shrugged, “at least it ain’t Cincinnati.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I replied as I lit up a cigarette. “What do you got for me?”
“A triple homicide. Two dead hookers and an anonymous John.”
“So the usual, huh?” I said.
“Jesus Christ, Jack! Do you want the case or not?! I’ve got two detectives downstairs itching for a case like this and you’re up here bitching like a little bitch!”
“Don’t use that language around me Chief,” I replied. “I was raised Southern Baptist.”
“My mistake, Jack,” the Chief said, “you know me, I always try to be respectful of other people’s belief’s. Except for Seven Day Adventist.”
“Word.”
“So what’s it gonna be Jack? Do you want the case or not?”
I put out my cigarette and grabbed the file. “I guess so Chief,” I said, “Sometimes I wish the Lord would come back and unleash hell on this town. If it ain’t a serial killer, it’s some goddamn junkie robbing his grandmother for his next fix. I swear, you unbelievers will learn the vengeance of God! May this city be cast into Hell!”
The Chief got on his knees and begged for mercy. “Please Jack! Don’t let me burn in hell for all of eternity!”
“Then accept the Lord Jesus Christ into your heart,” I said, “and pray for the forgiveness of your sins.”
And on February 23rd, 2022, the Chief accepted Salvation through Jesus Christ.
After the Chief’s conversion, I loaded my .38 and asked God to guide my bullets into the bodies of my enemies. “Thank you Lord,” I prayed, “let vengeance be Yours…and mine.”
I kissed the barrel of my gun and entered the mean streets of Cleveland. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil,” I uttered.
I grabbed the first pedestrian I saw on the streets. “Do you recognize this man?” I asked while holding up a picture of one of the victims.
“No,” they replied.
I slapped them across the face with the butt of my gun. “Liar!” I yelled, “Do you know what the Lord does to liars? He mutilates their genitals and they feast on them in heaven! So don’t let the devil catch your tongue! For it’s not the devil you should worry about if that happens! It’s GOD. And you WILL know God’s wrath AND the wrath of my .38!”
After the pedestrian pissed their pants, they confessed the victim’s name: Art McGarth.
So I let that poor sack of shit go and lit up a cigarette. “Not bad for an honest day’s work,” I thought.
I don’t know if I’m just bored sitting in class for the last two weeks, but something’s crawled up my ass and I just feel like arguing with people. On Instagram no less!
This time I’m arguing with stuck up Christians trying to present their arguments as some sort of academic debate because they think atheists are too dumb to understand their beliefs. Now don’t get your panties in a wad, these are just the people who are pissing me off RIGHT NOW. There’s no telling who I’ll argue with next week.
I’m a sophist at heart.
But if there’s one type of person I can’t stand, it’s the stuck up “I’m smarter than you cuz I read academic shit” guy. Fuck those people.
In fact, I say it’s your DUTY to pointlessly argue with these folks. They expect everything to be a structured debate and demand strangers online follow the rules.
But I will not. If I want to “straw man” you, use “non-sequiturs”, create false dichotomies, etc. I am well within my right to do so and there’s nothing you can do about it.
So Who the fuck are you? The “logical fallacies” police?
…like saying there’s no swearing in a movie where there is absolutely swearing. In Bloodbath at the House of Death (the subject of this review) the first uttered word is ‘shit!”.
Did this reviewer miss all of that? Or are they of those religious folks that are perfectly fine with nudity and graphic violence, but draw the line at bad language?
It’s interesting when people do that.
I mean, does the Bible even condemn “bad words”? And even if it did, you realize that Jesus didn’t speak English, right?
So we can safely say that God don’t know what the fuck you’re saying,
Guys, honestly, I just want to get through this story as quickly and painlessly as possible. I don’t like it anymore than you do.
But we gotta get through it.
Sorry 🤷♂️
John’s abnormally large penis continued to dangle in the wind the next morning. “I need full mobility,” he said, “if I wore the loincloth, I would be constricted.”
Alyssa didn’t argue as she was ready to return to civilization. She was concerned for her brother, Geoff, who was usually always by her side.
“We’re running out of water,” Alyssa said while they were trekking through the woods.
“You needn’t worry,” John replied as he was urinating in his canteen. “My kidneys work at 100% efficiency. I piss pure water.”
Alyssa took a swig from the canteen. The water tasted as pure as a cold mountain spring. She couldn’t contain her feelings any longer. “John, we need to talk,” she said.
“Not now. I’m about to strangle a raccoon.”
“John I love you. I know that we met last week, but you’re the man I’ve been waiting for. When we get out of the woods, I want to settle down and spend the rest of my life with you. I think God put us together for a reason. Please…please, I hope you feel the same way.”
“My ass!” John screamed as he started writhing on the forrest floor.
“What’s wrong?!” Alyssa asked.
“My IBS is acting up!”
Alyssa began consoling John as he ceaselessly shat himself. To make matters worse, she noticed two small bear cubs investigating the scene. “Please God, help us!” she prayed.
Without warning, the mother bear snuck up and bit into Alyssa’s hair, flinging her several feet away. John, being an experienced survivalist, started to play dead.
The mother bear sniffed John’s body, and bit a chunk out of his shoulder. As he screamed out, she bit into his arm and started shaking him like a rag doll.
As John passed out from shock, the bear began sniffing his buttcrack. Because he was unconscious, he no longer had control of his faculties. Shit started squirting out of his rectum and onto the startled bear. Frightened by the horrendous stench, the bear and her two cubs fled the scene.
Alyssa was momentarily knocked out from the throw. When she awoke, she saw John’s blood and shit soaked body laying unconscious. “John!” she screamed.
She made a makeshift tourniquet using her shirt which successfully stopped the bleeding.
“John! John! Wake up!” Alyssa yelled as she smacked his face.
“Everything will be alright, Alyssa. I’ve been in this situation many times before,” John said as he came to. “Just do as I say: I don’t think I can walk. You’re gonna have to drag me to safety.”
She began to cry. “I don’t think I’m strong enough!”
Using his one good arm, John grabbed her head. “God never burdens us with more than we can handle,” he assured her, “you can do this.”
She nodded and prayed as tears streamed down her face. Using all her might, Alyssa threw John’s arm around her neck and lifted John’s limp body around her shoulders.
***
“I can’t get cell phone reception out here,” Geoff said as he was floating down river with Ted and Becky.
“That’s because you’re using a Motorola StarTAC. Those things haven’t worked since 1998,” Ted replied.
Becky was sitting restlessly in the middle of the canoe. “I’m sure Alyssa and John are fine. I’m ready to go home. Let the park rangers find them,” she said.
“No!” Ted exclaimed. “I swore an oath to God that I would protect Alyssa’s virginity and I intend to keep that oath!”
“But Alyssa’s not a virgin,” Geoff said.
“How do you know?”
“Because I read her journal and sniff her panty-uhh, I mean-I’m her brother. She tells me these things.”
“Nevertheless,” Ted continued, “if she’s gonna have sex with John outside of marriage, her pastor has to be there to watch it. The Bible says so.”
Becky and Geoff nodded in agreement and continued to watch the river’s edge for signs of John and Alyssa.
“There!” Geoff yelled out.
Several yards ahead was a short topless woman carrying a large naked man around her shoulders. “Praise Jesus and all of his Glory!” Ted cried out.
Look, I’m trying to get to the good stuff (all the nasty sex). But I’m trying to get there organically, alright? Give me a break.
At the campfire, Geoff was playing Nearer, My God, To Thee on his acoustic guitar.
“Maybe you should put that away,” Alyssa told him.
Nine church goers were attending the camping trip in total. Brother Ted walked back to the camp after reliving himself in the river. “Woo! That water’s cold!” he declared.
He sat down at the edge of the fire and took out his Bible. “Being in nature reminds me of the awesome power of God,” Ted said. “But 1 John tells us to hate the world and everything in it. All of it will be destroyed in the Second Coming. None of this matters.” He then grabbed a trash bag and dumped its contents on the ground.
Alyssa tried to get close to John, but it appeared that she had competition. Sister Becky was close to Alyssa’s age. She was the touchy-feely type, laughed at every joke…even when a joke wasn’t being told. Most men responded to her flirty nature, but John was different. Alyssa tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“When I returned from Iraq, I successfully underwent conversion therapy,” John told Becky, “I haven’t had those kinds of feelings in nearly 2 years.”
“You’re such a brave man,” Becky responded as she gently touched his arm. Alyssa typically wasn’t the jealous type, but Becky was really trying her.
Everyone began roasting marshmallows and hotdogs but John took out a pork shoulder. He could have easily pulled back the plastic film covering it but used his Bowie knife instead.
“Shouldn’t you cook that before you eat it?” Brother Ted asked. “Nonsense,” John replied as he tore into the meat with his teeth, “God gave our bodies everything we need to digest raw pork.”
***
Alyssa woke up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. She walked a few yards from the camp and squatted behind a tree. While peeing, she heard painful grunts coming a few feet away.
“Who’s there?” she whispered into the dark. But All she heard was more grunting.
When she finished, Alyssa stood up and began wondering towards the direction of the sound. Behind another tree was John, pants around his ankles, squatting in agonizing pain.
“Are you okay?!” she asked him.
“I feel like my guts exploded!” John replied. He was blasting out one fart after another.
“I’ll go get help!”
“No!” John exclaimed, “I can’t let them see me like this! You gotta help me!”
“What can I do?”
“Just stay here with me.”
Alyssa knelt down beside John and held his hand. He started expelling an ungodly amount of diarrhea out of his anus. The stench was almost unbearable. When he finished, he looked up to her with his bloodshot, watery eyes.
“Thank you,” John said. Alyssa gave him a smile.
Afterwards, he stood up and washed his fecal-covered buttcrack in the river. When he finished, he walked back to Alyssa. As he took her by the hand, he said to her, “You can’t tell anyone about this.”
She nodded in return.
The two went back to their tents. As Alyssa climbed into her sleeping bag, she thought about John and thanked God for giving her such an intimate moment with him.
The next morning, groups were pairing up for the canoe trip. Becky approached John to row down river with her. He paused and scratched his forehead. “Uhh, actually I was planning to go with Alyssa,” he told her.
Becky stood up straight. “Alyssa? Really? But I assure you that I’m a much better rower than her,” she said.
“Good! That’s why you should go with Geoff.”
As Geoff was putting on his life jacket, John grabbed him and paired him with Becky. “Good luck!” he told him, and paddled off with his sister.
“Geoff’s not gonna like that,” Alyssa said, “he’s the jealous type.”
“Sorry, but I figured that I owe you an explanation for last night,” John replied.
“None’s necessary, John. You see, I get the bubble guts too.”
“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I have IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So you understand why I hope we can keep this a secret.”
“But why John? Why?”
“Because…,” he gave a long pause, “I was laughed at as a child. Everyone called me Mr.Poopypants. I couldn’t walk 10 feet without poop running down the back of my legs. I had to tape up the bottom of my jeans to prevent turds from slipping out and everyday my pants would fill up with poopoo.”
Tears began to well up in John’s eyes. “Everyone thinks that I’m some kind of hero,” he continued, “but in my own mind, I’m always gonna be Mr. Poopypants.”
With his back against her, Alyssa wrapped her arms around John’s body and placed her head just below his neck. “You’re not Mr. Poopypants to me, John. Your secret is safe. But maybe you should stop eating raw pork.”
John placed his left hand top of Alyssa’s that was resting on his chest. “I’m glad I’ve finally met someone like you,” he said.
Alright, here’s the first chapter to my Christian erotica story.
Ain’t promising that it’s gonna be good
“Amen!” Geoff yelled. It sounded more like he yelled ammo. Her brother’s enthusiasm for Sunday service sometimes annoyed Alyssa Edwards.
The preacher, Brother Ted, addressed his parishioners. “Folks,” he said, “sometimes I wake up in a pool of my own sweat and pants soaked in urine. Could it be the side effects of medication that’s causing this? Or could it be my guilty conscience from all the nights I drove home blackout drunk and full of hydros?”
The pews echoed with amens.
“I think it is God’s way of telling me that I’m a sinner and that every morning I should wake up in absolute horror, get on my knees, and thank Him for not striking me down dead right then and there.”
“Amen! Amen!”
“Now folks,” Brother Ted continued, “sin’s a terrible thing. For every sin committed, we should have our skin flayed, eyes poked out, and toothpicks shoved up our pee holes. But there’s a way out. In John 14:6, Jesus says ‘I am the way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me’!”
“Amen! Amen!”
“So if you’ve ever had impure thoughts, touched yourself in impure ways, those are marks on your soul and you can’t enter the Kingdom of Heaven with any blemish! So wash yourself in the pure blood of Christ our Lord!”
The sermon was more fiery than usual from Brother Ted. Alyssa was moved by his words, but her mind was distracted by events on the other side of the world. When Brother Ted asked for any prayer requests, she stood up. “Yes,” Alyssa said, “please pray for my parents who underwent an ill advised missionary trip to North Korea. They have been taken captive and are being held ransom by the government. Please pray for their safety and for the Lord to provide us with the $10.8 million for their release.”
“Aaaaaaamen,” Brother Ted replied. “Let us all pray…”
***
After the sermon, the church congregation met for brunch. Alyssa was standing alone in her traditional Sunday clothes: a blue floral halter dress with a button up sweater. She typically didn’t like large gatherings, but her brother wanted her to socialize.
Brother Ted noticed Alyssa standing alone. He licked his fingers clean of cake, plate in hand, and proceeded towards her. “It’s good to see you again,” he said to her, “but church is the best place to be in a time like this.”
Brother Ted Kaczynski stood there with a wide grin on his face in his oversized suit. He was in his late forties, overweight, and sweated profusely. “It’s good to see everyone again,” Alyssa replied, “it’s been very difficult lately.”
“Sometimes the Lord tries us in ways we couldn’t possibly understand,” Brother Ted said, “like having our parents kidnapped and held ransom for an obscene amount of money that we couldn’t possibly pay in a thousand years. But God never gives us more than we can handle.”
“So true, Brother Ted.”
“The church may be able to help you with your ransom money,” Ted said as he reached out for Alyssa’s soft, small hand. “Please stop by my office anytime. As you know, men are persecuted in this country…particularly white, Christian men. So my wife left me over completely false domestic abuse allegations and I’ve been missing out on stimulating female conversation. Maybe we can work something out if you know what I mean.”
“Brother Ted,” Alyssa replied, “I don’t think it would be appropriate for a single man or woman to be alone in a room together. I’ll be sure to bring my brother Geoff along for these discussions.”
A look of disappointment came over Brother Ted’s face. “Right you are Ms. Edwards,” he said, “I look forward to speaking with you.”
Geoff waddled up to Alyssa in his khakis and pea green polo. “Is everything alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, “I’m just ready to go home.”
Geoff then poked his thick-rimmed bifocals up to his face. “But we haven’t heard the keynote speaker yet,” he replied.
Then she saw him.
He was standing aloof off to the other side of the room. He was about 6’2, muscles bulging through his black, ironed polo. He had the gelled, high and tight hair cut. One could easily get lost in his deep blue eyes. Alyssa tried to not gaze at his body for too long, but how could it be a sin to marvel at such a creation from God?
“Who is that man?” she asked Geoff.
“That’s the keynote speaker.”
Brother Ted stood up and called for everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we have a new member to our congregation. He is a decorated war veteran and he has an incredible story. Please welcome John Cannon.”
The room applauded and John addressed the room. “Thank you everyone,” he began. Alyssa was taken with his deep and magnetic voice. “Brother Ted wanted me to tell you about my experience in Iraq, and well…” John stammered for a bit. “There’s really not much to tell. As a former Satan worshiper, I knew the power of the devil. But I never knew the Grace of God. So while I was in the US Army Special Forces, our convoy was attacked. All of my comrades were killed and I was the lone survivor. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head. ‘God will provide’ it said. And there in front of me was a flame thrower, a grenade belt, and an M29 Light Machine Gun. So I single-handedly torched the attacking force, killing everyone involved, then marched to the closest village and raised it to the ground, killing men, women, and children. I thought I was going to be court martialed and tried for war crimes, but to avoid the media fallout from such a massacre, I was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about killing an entire Iraqi village, but through the Grace of God and salvation through Christ Jesus, all is forgiven. But my therapist tells me that it isn’t a miracle that I found a flame thrower, grenades, and a machine gun…that those things are standard equipment with the Special Forces. They want to deny the existence of God. They also tell me that I have acute ‘PTSD’ and undiagnosed schizophrenia…and I shouldn’t carry around a Glock 19…”
John then pulled out the Glock and began waving in front of the audience. “But they can’t tell me what to do. God gave us the 2nd Amendment. And if they want to take away that right, they’re gonna face the wrath of God…and this Glock 19!”
The congregation gave him a round of applause.
Alyssa knew right then and there.. She had to know this man.
There are four things that I love: 1) corporate intrigue 2) religious charlatans 3) the State of Texas 4) NFL football. Which is why I’ve been blessed with the Jack Easterby story regarding the Houston Texans.
For those who don’t know, Easterby is essentially a chaplain that plotted and schemed his way to the top of an NFL franchise. It’s an odd story, but things like this happen. Anyone recall Rasputin and the fall of the Russian Empire? And yes, I’d say that Easterby’s involvement with the Texans is every bit as significant and tragic as the fall of the Romanovs.
I’m just always surprised at how rich people, like Texans CEO Cal McNair, are so gullible. If the average person came across someone like Easterby on the street, we’d think “this dude’s full of shit.” But I guess game recognizes game.
Listen to this shit:
A bit of advice Evangelicals: if you want people to take your religion seriously, maybe drop the used car salesman schtick.
The theory is that Easterby and McNair are trying to turn the Texans into a “Christian football camp”. So this will give us the opportunity to test Aaron Rodgers’ theory that “God doesn’t care about football games.” And if we come to find out that God DOES care about football while millions of children continue to starve to death, then you should ask yourself why you worship this god.
So I’m pretty excited to watch this experiment go up in flames. In the meantime, enjoy some of Easterby’s standup:
So I’ve been locked in my shed breathing in paint and gasoline fumes for the last few days and I’ve been watching atheist call-in shows the entire time.
Then it occurred to me: I can do this!
I’ve always said that my dream job would be to have my own talk show a la Dr. Phil: People would come to me with their problems and I would dispense nothing but terrible, uneducated advice. (So, basically, Dr. Phil)
So now I want my own atheist call in show: people call in trying to convert me, I ask endless amount of questions, people spin their wheels to the point of insanity, and I convert every time. Of course, I believe in this faith until the next caller.
I’ll also give relationship advice, because if anyone knows romance, it’s definitely a balding, disheveled, 94 year old.
The Internet Ruined Everything 