THE WRITINGS OF JOHNNY PAIN
Our story has thus far more or less concerned Mugily and Ralph, and basically ignored the other occupants of the RV during their much less than epic trip, though they too had been enduring the cruel fate of being slaughtered over and over again by the Mormon Molemen High High Council and the Kabbalah-kooked Ass Face Kurcher and his slut hound (a creature consisting of the head of Mad Donna and the body of a bassett hound, which the wealthy near immortal slock-pop singer had done to herself simply because she had been on a kick of doing it doggie style) and his cyborg Dimwitty Whore. Until this point in the story, they might as well not have been there. They pretty much had spent the entire trip vacillating between shitting in their pants and bemoaning their fates -- only on the sixth day did they really perk up and start to participate, after Ralph started issued mandatory eight balls to, as he told them, 'keep you sorry fucks from killing my buzz.'
Before Ralph moved into their apartment building, Mugily's neighbors were all just the normal, salt of the earth kind of folk that you find out here in the heartland of America. On the first floor North was Ritlip, molester of plants. It was known by the neighbors not to leave their plants out where he could get at them -- there had been 'incidents.' In fact, most everyone on the block knew that he had little control of his urges after a facscination with a cactus on his neighbor's balcony sent Ritlip to the hospital with penile bleeding on more than one occasion. Ritlip also had a secret power. Well, it was less a secret than that no one believed him, but indeed he did have the hearing of two wolves due to a combination of his mother's dna having been warped by a power line that ran over her bedroom as a child and her later use of a cornocopia of synthetic mind altering drugs. All his life he had been haunted by his super power -- he could hear his neighbors tiniest doings, and could live only with the minute agony of inadvertantly monitoring every bowel movement in his tenemant building by telling himself that one day, he was going to use his powers for the glory of god... when Ralph arrived, Ritlip was the first to accept him because of this delusion -- and delusion it was, for his super powers would prove to have almost no bearing on his life (*other than the downside previously mentioned).
In the apartment beside him was Hiplo, who was obsessed with pouring tins of left over tuna water on panty displays at upscale lingerie boutiques (most of them have his picture up in the break room with a 'mace on sight' order, and he was often noted by the neighbors -- with half concealed smiles, as he came up the walk with extremly red, watery eyes and reaking of the stench of pepper, or other more noxious chemical concoctions). He lived on a disability he got after taking some psych tests once when he was thinking about joining the army, or the navy. He couldn't remember after awhile and was known to occasionally get stoned on codiene cough syrup and have one or the other branches of the armed services tattooed on his body, resulting in a confusing mishmash of army and navy tattoos covering his body -- and sometimes each other. In his spare time, he liked to stare into the windows of Toy Stores Downtown and mentally sexualize the stuffed animals.
Above Hiplo in the second floor front apartment was Jakolp, a hot shot, celebrity janitor with a local cable show where he displays pictures of what clogged up various celebrity drains and toilets. Shocking and grotesque, his show is the highest rated in the public access market, with two or three letters a month pouring in from fans. He is a Yugoslavian immigrant who was a reknown heart surgeon in his own country, and resents like hell that he is treated by the stars as their 'toilet toy' (though he was not above copywriting the name, putting it on business cards, and all the other sound business practices that it took for him to take the celebrity janitorial world by storm).
In the basement apartment, which is even with the streets, lives a foot fetished out freak, Kiplo, who has paintings and busts of feet filling every space of wall in his place. Suspicious stains on the carpet in front of some of the paintings are explained away as 'glue spills,' though no evidence of actual use of glue has ever been discerned. He is the seeker among the dullards, a guy who thinks anyone who gets a job and has kids and lives a normal life of decorating the garage with power tools was part of a vast conspiracy that was vaguely related to a plot by Beavers to cut human water supplies and return their god to the throne of earth, which he was knocked off when man developed opposing thumbs. He is sure that one day he will find enlightenment, that it will come as a surprise in a box of cereal. This he eats all day and night, and weighs around four hundred pounds...
Kiplo covers his walls in tin foil so it looks cool with colored bulbs, and though no one can stand the cold, cerebrial yet ever so slightly trashy look of his apartment, his neighbors are too afraid of pissing of 'a crazy' to say anything more than the usual polite nicities.
Their lives were basically your normal one. They had allegeince with a local gang for protection, paid the cops off, kept up on our health insurance, cashed theirr govchecks and used their stamps. They hadn't even had a water abuse ticket for like three years, before Ralph.
Their tranquilty was shredded the day his eleven cats came ripping into the apartment... he even brought a dirty, disgustingly full litter box with him.
In less than a week, he had managed to bring the full wrath of the Mormon church down on their heads. The High, High Mormon, Morman council was convinced that all of the residents of the building were part of some 'Ralph Cult,' as the newspapers were calling them. There sort of was a cult, too, so this made defending themselves against this charge all the harder, of course (though the cult was actually a mind control experiment of Ralph's, where he was deproggramming mormons).
Mormon's did not at all approve of having their members deprogrammed, but since they were a bastard relgion which was made up by man and had no real god power backing them up, they were no real threat to Ralph -- though they were certainly effective at killing off his weary followers, who occasionally were too exhausted after suffering a grisly death at the hands of the likes of hired scientologist assasin Bouncing Tom Cruise Clones.
note from the author....
No Sperm Were Killed Or Injured During The . . .Production Of This Story
Can't say the same about this morning when I was reading SEEPING CROTCHES, which is all about hard-core, hand puppet butt stuff... You think about it, and you realize that all hand puppets are being fisted all the time. How they bear this pain while still functioning in society has puzzled me forever. .. let alone that they have found a way to find this sodomy deeply satisfying in their warm, squishy bowels. I tried having a fist inserted into my anus while I was going to work; I asked everyone I know but they were all busy that day, and all the other days I asked about. I was forced to get a manniquen, a blonde jock looking dude with great pec's... not that I care.
I figured I would wear a two part horse suit and have the maniquen in the back fisting me all day just like my hero, Greg The Bunny... I was sure that his genius is partially caused by the constant rubbing on his G spot, and his D,J, K, and L spots...
Everyone at work thought I had a corpse in there (A great idea that I used later after killing some pressed suit that arrogantly stopped his honda Tank half way into the cross walk when I was walking Ruby Dog). They called security and this big goon with a gun came up to me, grabbed the tail of the horse suit and pulled the back off. The manniquen's hand popped out of my ass with loud 'Splush,'
showing the manniquen's shitty hand and my exposed rectum -- which was open and hanging loose and floppy, stretched well beyond any super turd size... there was seeping -- I got a picture of it, which I still keep on my desk. When I show it to people, I say, "Want to see my ass-hole all stretched out from fisting?"