The gospel of Itchy Wiggle Christ, Gregory-John McCormick, Ralf Dellhofen [black books to read .TXT] 📗

course this world would never do what is correct. and you don´t want to know what i think should be done with all the meat eaters.

 

captain kirk? yes, yeoman janice rand? captain, i am in my cabin with the queen of the amazon women´s planet. yes, yeoman rand? well, captain, the queen is requesting that i put my tongue inside her pussy and wriggle it around. and what is the problem with that, janice? you should accommodate your alien guest to your full capacity. yes captain, of course, but there is a problem, captain. what is it, yeoman? well, captain, the amazon queen is presently fist-fucking my pussy, and i find it difficult to see how i can lick her pussy while she fist-fucks me. ah yes, yeoman, this is where a captain´s experience comes into play. yes captain? what should i do? well, yeoman, turn your body around using the queen´s fist in your juicy cunt as a fulcrum, turn your body around 180 degrees. oh yes, captain, i see. yes, yeoman, you should be able to easily lick the queen´s pussy and still have her fuck you with her fist. yes, yes, captain! it will work! i´m so happy - i didn´t want her to stop pleasuring me. of course not, yeoman, carry on. yes, captain, yes sir, oh and sir? yes yeoman? captain sir, would it be possible to send that cute young female planetary biologist to my cabin? the queen expressed her desire to taste that young woman´s asshole and possible eat her shit. well, yeoman, normally i do not allow shit-games on board the enterprise, but in this case i will make an exception. oh, thank you captain, thank you! my pleasure janice, carry on. after this point, captain kirk took out a sharp stiletto knife and carved a tribal design into his forearm. he dipped his fingers in the blood and smeared the blood on his lips. he gripped the knife tightly and headed for the cute young female planetary biologist´s cabin. he was going to give her an order that she would certainly find herself going beyond the call of duty to perform. mr. spock cried alone in the corner and pissed his pants, enjoying the warm sensation until the urine cooled.

 

a terminally ill patient offering himself up for sustenance. so here we are, together again on a night, a friday night to be exact. again i have no mail for the week, 21 days or more with no mail, nice. it is such an empty feeling. and to add to that, my headaches have taken a new turn, i have extreme vertigo - dizziness that i cannot control, and my left eye is completely bloodshot red. i am extremely nauseous and my head is pounding. it seems it is much worse than a migraine, it all rings true to being something like a stroke or a brain tumor. but if so, i´m not sad. i´m happy, because soon i will be free.

 

it is time to say goodnight. it is time for sleep. i worked hard all day on the happy grim-reaper bearing flowers for my "liebe", so i deserve my rest, i deserve my sleep and my small escape. i deserve freedom and love and to live my life just outside this living hell, but the gods deem not to grant me such grandiose gifts. instead they deem to torture me and sicken me and keep me in horrible head pain. i would not be surprised if the gods are not behind me getting no mail from my friends and my "liebe". there is something, some deep dark evil force behind me remaining in prison. i should have been out of here years ago, but the nazis of michigan will not release me. i do not know how. i will ever get out of here. no one can help me, or the ones that want to help me cannot, or will not, one thing. i get the feeling that i will die, in prison, in a great deal of pain. i have a better feeling that i will die in here than any feeling i might foolishly have of ever being released. goodnight, friends.

 

there was once a god that took much pleasure in torturing a very bright and intelligent human being named grégor. the god did not want grégor to spread his intelligence and creativity over the world. the god was afraid that people would figure out that grégor was correct in his way of thought, that the gods, all of the gods, are shit and deserve no worship for the pain they inflict on humanity. so the god made sure grégor was locked away and tortured for the rest of his short life, and the world never knew what they missed. praise jeebus. this is shit, and this is shinola. both are black, and both stink. praise jeebus, he saved a wretch like me from teaching the world what a load of shit he is.

 

deductive reasoning, that´s the name of the game. fucked and freaked and fresh, sick sad saturated stupid senile saturday morning, awaiting soggy waffles, and the once-a-week phone call with my dad. i keep thinking and wondering when the headache will come, i feel tinges of the pain creeping up on me now, t´will be soon i suspect.

 

i don´t trust you, i trust nothing. how i poured my heart and soul into that relationship, and all for what? we must live with our memories, good and bad. froggy came a-courtin´, but the bitch turned out to be a not good dirty italian slut. she sure left a bad taste in my mouth when it comes to my opinion of italian girls. the only two italian girls i ever fucked were both lesbians. coincidence, i assume. but then again, the whole european woman thing. so many bisexual women. i don´t blame girls for liking women. men are pigs, i try to be less of a pig than most, so maybe i am easier to be with. i used to drink a lot, too.

 

christopher reeve as superman in the movies just does not cut it. now he is a messy crippled carcass in a wheelchair. i think it would be funny if they made a new superman movie with crippled chris flying around in a super-powered wheelchair. for when super-crippled-man wants to fail his enemies, he can open up his colostomy bag and dump all his intestinal sewage shit all over them. that would be a funny movie, and would give christopher reeve a job. the handicapped need to work, too. people can´t be expected to keep supporting the wheelchair-bound members of society, they must earn their own keep. besides, who is going to pay for the super-powered flying wheelchairs? so many retards in this stinking retarded world.

 

best you stop doing that, you vicious brute. the bottle of whiskey tipped up and a mouthful was poured into his cigarette-sick mouth. he lit a camel and smoked half of it, staring at her laying naked on the bed. he had awoken a bit earlier to find her masturbating in her sleep, her fingers deep in her crotch, moaning. he didn´t quite know what to think. it was erotic, yes, but disturbing. he knew that her recent shopping trip to san francisco with her girlfriend the hair salon owner had resulted in the two women having sex together in the hotel room. he didn´t quite know what to think of that either. he was a bit angry because he always wanted to fuck the hair salon girl - now his wife had had her. he smoked the rest of his cigarette and took three more pulls off the whiskey bottle, and thought. his wife had always been a prude, very reserved in bed, and to boot she had some kind of obsessive disorder. she was pretty and had a great set of tits, but the bad side outweighed the good. he had many affairs with many girls just to satisfy his need for exciting sex. he could get the old in-out-in-out from his wife, but it was very boring. now he could not figure out the lesbian affair with the hair salon owner girl. he understood it, yes. the hair salon woman was beautiful. even a girl not inclined to sex with another woman would want to fuck the hair salon girl. maybe his wife is a lesbian, he thought. a prude that would never admit to her desire for women, but could not pass by the chance in san francisco. yea, that was it. he drank some more and smiled to himself. i´m a regular sam spade, he thought.

 

i had a shit fetish girlfriend once, a 16 years old punk rock girl. she was into anything and everything, and especially other girls - specifically older women. the girlfriend i had before her was turned on by little girls, seven year old little girls, to be exact. that one had a seven year old cousin that she used to shower attention on, she would have the girl over to her house and give her baths, with her in the tub with the seven year old girl. she used to touch the little girl´s pussy and told me she kissed it a few times, but never went farther because kissing the little girl´s pussy made her have an orgasm immediately. she used to have me fuck her in the ass while she thought of her little cousin. it was disturbing in a way. eventually i left, but learned later that when the little girl cousin was 12, my girlfriend of the past was having full sexual relations with her. she told me the girl came to her bed one night and started licking her pussy. strange, maybe, but not so in sweden. these were all swedish girls.

 

captain ralf dellhofen "caught" an english sailor off the coast of belfast. ralf was fishing again, except his form of fishing involved no fish, only slimey english faggot sailors. upon capturing the sailor, captain ralf hauled the skinny dirty queer down into the torture chamber deep within the bowels of "the heart of gold", the good captain´s pirate frigate, charred black from hellfire. the limey faggot sailor was immediately put in chains. the faggot cried like a little girl and begged for mercy, but his cries went only to anger captain ralf. "shut your cock-hole, ye perverted english son of a diseased whore!", the captain bellowed as he brought his buckler sword down in a vicious slash across the homo sailor´s legs. the faggot screamed in total agony as blood spurted out the wounds, which were now only stumps where the good captain severed the legs at the knees. the faggot´s legs lay in a puddle of blood next to his convulsing body. "avast, but you´ll bleed to death soon if i don´t stop the kroovy from leaking out of ye, ye dirty scum-hole!", the captain proclaimed as he grabbed a burning torch. ralf burned the bleeding stumps until the blood stopped leaking out. the sailor went into shock, quivering and spitting up vomit, but he was stabilized for the moment. "now you will feel the real pain, english boy-toucher, as i give your body and soul to the tender mercies of cole, the cruel one with the poison ink. you´ll be thinkin´me a kind-hearted pirate after cole is done with ye".

 

you filthy little gerbil, you bald-headed butchering nazi. strings from the puppetmaster pulling me, showing me what to do, and oh, how many terrible things i have done. these are the hands that have done so many terrible things. i met a girl who was to end up being my wife once at a café-bar place in stuttgart, she was picking me up after i had been on a drunk and ended up somewhere on the outskirts of münchen. i rode the trains and s-bahns and u-bahns to get to the bar, but where i was