the writing of john scott ridgway and his mental demons -- gilford tuttle, white male christian, and johnny pain -- punk serial killer with a penchant for vegetible molestation.
finished draft
Published on December 26, 2006 By Gilford Tuttle In Humor

This is the time of year when people have to decide what to cook for the holidays. Like most, I will turn to the elf. However, I will not be making Cajun Spiced Elf Eyes, or any of the other 'trendy' new recipes. No,
I find the traditional holiday Roast Elf to be best.

I like to take kite string and truss them up into a ball before baking. This requires standing there and breaking all of their bones with a hammer. The faint of heart among you can kill them first, though I personally think that would take away some of the 'Holiday Magic'. It is worth the trouble and the blood clean up to get a nice display of golden brown elf on the table. I set the oven at 250 for three hours to get the innards all cooked, then another three hours at 200 while I baste them in a mixture of melted candy canes and liquid LSD. They come out rare and bloody and ready for fun... after all, like my dear grandmomma used to say, "What's the use of eating an elf liver without blood squirting everywhere?"

Have a heaping helping of some elf innard's today!!!


Here's hoping your holiday season lacks brutal anal rape . . . unless you are into that kind of thing, and then I am probably going to have to see some video. . .



Comments
on Dec 26, 2006
I like to take kite string and truss them up into a ball before baking. This requires standing there and breaking all of their bones with a hammer.


*bashes the evil elf killer on the head!*

SmileyCentral.com
on Dec 27, 2006
Yes, I have sinned against the elves... I think this is why santa skipped my house. Well, that or our reputation for sitting on the roof of our trailer and firing shotguns at passing planes... or sleighs, should we see one. You can bet we discussed shooting down the red one this christmas eve as we sat up there drinking beers and blasting to shreds any and all passing birds, cats, squirrels -- you know, anything that makes a good stew.

This year me and Shredder and Boner and Hickup decided that until Santa gets the balls to just slit the throats of the bad kids, we are going to remain philosophically opposed to his bearded obesity. In fact, my dream, of course, is to be Santa, just have that list in one hand, and my shotgun in the other. Hell, I'd let the elves handle the good kids, and just spend the night blasting tiny steel balls out of a barrel and splattering grey brain matter and yellow fat and fresh, deep-red blood all over their Star Wars sheets.. or Sponge Bob, or whatever (though personally I prefer the Star Wars sheets, and will sleep on nothing else (well,in an emergency I will, though of course, I do seriously pout over this -- sometimes for days)) .

By The Way: Thank You once again for your funny comments; this certainly made me laugh.
on Dec 27, 2006
I prefer them boiled alive quickly until a bright red a la lobster.
on Dec 28, 2006
Yea, sure... boiling almost anything alive is good fun. I like to record their screams and play them over and over and over and... and then mix them in with other screams I have recorded into a symphony of screams that I play while cutting up cows and pigs and old dogs and such out in our trailer park, where I am kind of the unofficial butcher for our block. Everybody brings down dead cats and road kill and stuff -- anything you can deep fry up with taters. Me and the boys just love cutting up small animals so much that we don't mind skinning anything they bring along...
on Dec 28, 2006
)Xmas Gourmand


(Citizen)Gilford Tuttle
December 28, 2006 17:24:31


you are both evil - hahahaha

SmileyCentral.com
on Dec 28, 2006
If by evil you mean killing stuff, then think about the meat in your fridge, and how it got there... I used to work in a slaughter house, shoving that old electric wand up into their heads... got fired for having loud, noisy orgasms when the pigs shuddered and dropped dead on the slaughterhouse floor; I mean, not all the time... maybe eight times a day? And hardly ever with cows, unless they were really, really hot (I ain't no friggin pervert, alright). It always puzzled me that the other guys weren't bothered by this? I think they took salt peter, or something. Like chicken farmers have to (the only good way to screw a chicken is to wait until your just ready to shoot of the rockets, then slit it's throat, causing a pleasing frantic flopping about -- so you can see why a horny chicken farmer could run through his entire egg producing stock in a week, or so).