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Verbwhores' Halloween Story 2009 (x10)

Started by Jemble Fred, September 07, 2009, 07:04:11 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Ginyard

the Watson-Holmes pubic robot burst in and said something about a vampire being outside and not to go out there or else, sonny jim fella me lad. Of couse, we didn't hear any of that because it was playing Faure on the violin and was drugged up to its metallic eyeballs so we all rushed outside

Dark Sky

only to discover we had missed the last bus back to Hackney.

Mist tickled our ankles as we plodded wearily towards the nearest taxi rank, jumping at hooting and tripping at root in that dark forest where looting was a regular occurrence gone four pm.

"Oh poot," said

Jemble Fred

Trevor, tugging on his flagon of Old Unlikely, a tangible dribble of urine snaking down the front of his mustard flannels, "I'm fucking starving, old Prof, aren't there any late night eateries on these moors?"

I turned to my thespian pal with a chuckle, and vomited

Ginyard

him up a caesar salad and a coffee pot. I'm

Saucer51

partial to Italian food but unless a couple of Milanese backpackers pass through, I'll have to make do with good old English fayre. The local teashop was a very quaint establishment and sold fine dropped scones but I was uncomfortable with the pentagram daubed clumsily on the wall with what looked like off-red paint. So

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

what? I thought to myself rather cheekily. As we parked our buttocks onto the acceptable, moderately priced seating, a slight smirk crept its way onto my pursed lips, before climbing down my neck, beneath my shirt and eventually becoming lost in the sensual curves of my underbody.

"What ho!

Ginyard

has stolen money from my butcher's apron?" cried Huggy Santa Bambino, the owner.

Obviously it was me as I had the smirk but I wasn't going to let that exceptionally hairy, wild eyed man with his over-sized meat teeth see it. Instead

Saucer51

pushed old Mrs Armitage, the head waitress, against the cake trolley.
     "You holdin' out on me, Bitch?"
Suddenly it was so quiet in the teashop that all that could be heard was the surruptitious slurping of warm beverage.
     The eyes of the waitress were darting. "Oh, no sir. It's just that there's a new customer who keeps staring at You-Know-What."
      Huggy moved back and comtemptibly. "Well... that could mean one of two thangs. It could be that goddamn star on the wall or it could be the dude is talkin' about

Cerys

revolution!  Is that right?' he hissed, pinning me to the

wall with his vast bloodshot eyes.  Fortunately I was prepared

for such an eventuality.  Prising myself away with my handy

chisel, I threw his eyes at him with the arm

of a gentleman.  The gentleman was not best pleased and

Ginyard

hurled tags at us, one after the other, until they had all been used up and a professor named koeman had won. There

sirhenry

#40
seemed little else to do, so we retook their seats and ordered another round of cold meats from the buxom waitress with the pronounced incisors (pronounced "fangs"). Soon

Ginyard

it became clear that we had to go to transylvania but we had no money. What currency could we use to get ourselves across to that bloody neck of the woods? Hmmm

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

, my trusty mumbling manservant, leapt out of a hovering tin beaker and immediately furnished me with Transylvanian... I dunno, Rupees like in Zelda or some sort of foreign cash I expect, that he'd throttled from a passing foreign currency collector.

"Excellent work Hmmm, you old murderous pickpocket, you!" I chortled, slapping his back heartily and knocking his ears off,

sirhenry

leaving him both deaf and mute.

I stuffed him back in the beaker (much easier without the outstanding ears), and pocketed the heathen loose change. Before embarking on an undertaking of this kind there were some details a gentleman had to attend to.
So, thrusting out all his best parts, he strode to the nearest brothel

Ginyard

in search of a legion of rundown northern whores to carry him to the foreign land. No sooner had he

Dark Sky

Quote from: Ginyard on September 09, 2009, 12:53:14 AM
in search of a legion of rundown northern whores to carry him to the foreign land. No sooner had he

dropped his trousers there came a furious kerfuffle from outside and Hmmm came bursting through the doors, his hair uncombed.

"Sir...you called, sir..." Hmmm muttered.

"I did no such thing!"

"But you called my name...several times...and loudly!"

"Oh Hmmm, you silly man, you silly, foolish, imbecilic, man, you silly, foolish, goddamn sexy man, no, I was not calling your name, I was merely engaging in pleasures of the loins!"

"Oh, I see, sir."

"And for heaven's sake, man, why are you missing an arm?"

"Well, I can ex

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

plode"

"Indeed you can, sir. How foolish of me to forget. That explains everything."

With that, Hmmm's second arm burst in a wondrous shower of flame and cartilage.

"No need to illustrate the point, Hmmm, you crusty old dolphin pederast, I'd already accepted your story... though one thing troubles me..."

"Whatever's that sir?" chirped the plucky manservant, his gonads erupting like twin Catherine Wheels.

"How is it that you heard me, despite a complete lack of ears?"

Ginyard


sirhenry

"And, correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you mute too?"

That I was, sir. But since being bitten by that hirsute gentleman with the wicked grin, I've been feeling much better. A bit of blood-lust, but don't mind me, I'm 'armless."

Cerys

I chortled dutifully at his witty pun, then eviscerated him with the umbrella my old and incontinent Aunt Formaldehyde had bequeathed me for a laugh in her will.  This umbrella

Little Hoover

was no ordinary umbrella, it had the power to kill a man simply by violently attacking him with it as I had just done. Not only that it could also

the midnight watch baboon

talk. And talk it did, when worm-fingered, fanny-mouthed local nutjob Malcolm Powder crawled into sight, regarding me

Ginyard

with hateful eyes, and then promptly dropped dead from the shock of listening to my umbrella waffling on about daguerreotypes, hackney carriages and fierce tromboning. Still,

Sexton Brackets Drugbust

he was a twat. Nevertheless, I am a gentleman and the humanitarian streak that ran through me like sweet, spidery lettering through a stick of rock, obliged me to give the man his last rites.

Stooping low, I honoured his body one last time in the only way I knew how

Ginyard


Little Hoover

put our fists together much like Barack and Michelle Obama would do. Then I stuck my hand up his arse

Ginyard

.


(sorry, that made me laugh so much I feel duty bound to honour it with a full stop)

Cerys

It was unfortunate that we were thusly interlocked when the foul visage of Springheel Jack, previously unseen by mortal men, hove into view.

  'Egad!' I cried, struggling to release myself from

sirhenry

the obligated, and rapidly loosening, orifice.

And not a moment too soon, for at that very moment Syphilitic Sal, an already loose woman of my close acquaintance, brightoned the view. But before I could make a warning ejaculation, the nefarious Springheel Jack was upon her, with only one thought in his twisted mind;

Ginyard

'I've got to have me some of that. Oh, and I've left the kettle on!'

OK, two things on his mind. In fact