The Whores' Bedtime

[fanny splendid]

He let it go, and it flapped like a one winged duck to the floor, landing in a puddle of Roland's night-time dribble.

"Gosh!" said Trevor, "Look at the timetable."

In the places where moisture from Roland's dribble had made contact with the paper timetable, it had begun to lose its opaqueness, and a pattern had begun to emerge.

"It looks just like a map." said Roland. He picked up Trevor's damp timetable, and examined it more closely...

[Munday's Chylde]

"oh no, my mistake, its just the timetable, only wet."
"blimey," gasped trevor,  "i thought we were on to an adventure there for a moment."
"no such luck," shrugged trevor, "now come on, or we'll be late."
"late for what?" trevor asked.
Roland leaned homosexually close to him and whispered, "late for cock."
"Now just wait a moment..." Trevor stuttered, backing away from roland and raising his eyebrows.
"Dont be stupid." Roland laughed, "Cock... Care Of Crap Kreatures... and get off my eyebrows."
"sorry."
And so saying they hurried out of the dormitory and straight into...

[danielreal2k]

Graham Norton, who was also ready for a session of Cock

"have you done your homework?"  Graham asked with a smug grin

[Munday's Chylde]

Graham was their 'Dark arts' teacher and the one master Trevor feared the most, his double entendres could floor a unicorn from twenty paces away.
"Cocks cancelled." he told them, before raising his eyes to an invisible camera and mewing, "not round my house its not."
Reluctantly Trevor and Roland were forced to accompany him to his own class where they duly took their seats next to the know-it-all strumpet Hermangy Hairy.
"Everybody stand up please!" clucked Master Graham. "Remain standing... Remain standing if...

[falafel]

"If you've ever had sex with an infant llama."
Everybody sat down.
"Dull cunts," said Norton, "I bet you've never even fucked a pig, have you?"
"No, sir," the class murmured in agreement.
"Well, we might just have to do something about that. Jimbo, fetch...

[poison popcorn]

..." squealed an excited norton as his poodle bounded after the red glittery dildo he'd thrown randomly into the class.
the rubber monstrosity bounced off trevors desk and lodged itself in hermangy hairy's hair. hermangy hairy was an unusually hairy girl, and had been compared by some of the less kind students as a poorly shaved yeti. the particular patch of hair grahams curiously sticky rubber wang had attached itself to was on her knees, and she let out an annoying scream as the slobbering dog launched itself...

[Jemble Fred]

...in his own chat show, and single pawedly saved BBC1 Saturday nights.

Soon it was time for lunch. As Trevor viciously tucked in to a platter of beans, chicken legs, chocolate hobgoblins, peyotes, toast, raw onions and mushy peas, everyone around him whispered and pointed. Every time he looked up he caught people's eyes and they looked away, embarrassed.

Eventually one pupil, with a shock of shocking hair, approached him.

"You're him, aren't you?" he sneered.

"Bog off, Mellifluous!" roared Roland, his mouth full of Everlasting Twiglets and ham.

"No, you bog off, Numbface!" returned the shocking youth. "Get back to kissing Unicorns or whatever it is your family does for a living. You're definitely the one," he continued, returning to the perplexed Trevor, "You're Trevor Verbwhore, aren't you? You have the look."

"What? What do they mean, Hermangy?"

"Well you can't blame people for noticing, Trevor!" returned the hirsute swot, "You are clearly Him, everyone can see from your face."

"Wha?"

"You're the ugliest boy in the whole school – You are The Boy Who Would Not Just Fuck Off!"

[Jemble Fred]

Chapter 2 – The Boring Herjammergliffbonk

[butnut]

His candle flickering in a draught from the balustrades, Art Garfunkel wound his way up the majestic main staircase of St AntiChrist's, the myserious new school which had picked him out of a handful of 3 hopefuls to study the dark arts and Paul Simon Studies. From a very young age, he'd always known he was special. He knew he was different from the other people, and now he had his chance to prove himself.

"Come thee no further" came the voice from a creaking old wax statue of Leonard Cohen that stood guard outside the first years' dormitory, "Unless ye can tell me the magic password!"

[Jemble Fred]

Chapter 2 – The Boring Herjammergliffponk

[Munday's Chylde]

"What the hell was that?" Roland asked.
"Dunno." Trevor replied.
"Some kind of time shifting ground hog day parallel universe thing." Hermangy explained, "We should just ignore it."
"But whose art garfunkel?" Roland persisted.
"I SAID IGNORE IT!" Hermangy screamed, her voice taking on a strangely masculine tone.
Roland and Trevor exchanged worried glances, but before they could question her further the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor and into the dormitory hurried...

[Jemble Fred]

...the enormous galumphing figure of the caretaker, the late Bernard Bresslaw OBE.

"'Ello Trevor!" he beamed, beaming at Trevor and saying that.

"Oh thank goodness, Bernard, such a strange thing has happened!" flustered Hermangy.

"Well that's as maybe, and maybe it's as you say," the giant deceased comedy actor returned, "But I's got news for you young characters – I's found a way to dig a secret tunnel through to the Land of Perhaps Next Tuesday, which will save you more than thirty chapters of balls!"

"Well that's bloody great!" roared Roland.

"You can't say 'bloody', Roland, there might be children about!" shrieked Hermangy.

"No, it's alright, I saw it in this kid's film. We can say bloody and, apparently, bugger. In fact, I think I might chuck in a motherfucker for good measure."

"Anyway," returned Bresslaw, fingering his beard with a distant look on his sadly departed face, "The only problem is the one creature who could dig this tunnel and save us all a lot of time has a wounded arse. Unless he gets better soon, we're all doomed to have to plough through pages and pages of secret skulking, skullduggery and... shit."

[butnut]

"How did Art Garfunkel get a wounded arse?" inquired Trevor. "Was he messing around with that candle again?"

[Munday's Chylde]

Chapter 2 – The Boring Herjammergliffponk

[danielreal2k]

Art Garfunkel later revealed the duet with Mr Manson wasn't a good idea

[falafel]

Chapter 3 - Well, that was quick, wasn't it?

[Jemble Fred]

Yeah, it was. I feel like Mike McShane one round into Whose Line Is It Anyway?, if Tony Slattery, Paul Merton and Josie Lawrence just showed their arses and went off to the pub taking Clive and Richard Vranch with them, leaving him alone gibbering at the audience. Hey ho, there's always 'Richie Rich 2'.

[falafel]

Ahem. *cracks knuckles in anticipation*

Chapter Two - The Boring Herjammergliffponk - cont.

"Well, it's not all bad news. At least there's a way to get to the Land of Perhaps Next Tuesday, eh," said Hermangy.
"Why do we need to go there anyway?"
"Well, apparently Half Life 2 goes gold next tuesday," replied Trevor
"That's not why," gurgled Bresslaw menacingly. "I'll tell you about that later, when I've managed to make something plausible up. But first we have to find The Boring Herjammergliffplonk."
"Well, lets go! What are we waiting for?"
""We're waiting for Hermangy to stop trimming her legs. Hermangy, stop that, will you? It's unhygienic"
"God, that word looks funny written down. It looks like it's pronounced "blbfotpeorrtnnntang" or something"
"What are you talking about? Let's go!"
"Where?"
"To the world of...

[hansen mork]

*Sir Chelsam enters occupied space bashing into the back of Trevor and sending him stumbling forward a few steps*

"Right then... ah sorry wrong space"

*Sir Chelsam leaves space previously occupied by Trevor*

[Jemble Fred]

There was a pause, in which everyone tried to work out what the fuck had just happened. Bresslaw gulped, and continued.

"... To the world of leather. I sees that it's the best place for a Boring Herjammergliffponk, what with them looking like a cross between a reclining sofa and Art Garfunkle."

"Don't you ever mention that name again, Bernard!" returned Roland. And the four of them set off to try and save this monster, and get to the bottom of this mystery extra fucking quick, making sure to wear their Invisibility poncho, for fear of Graham Norton ruining the whole thing.

*****

[falafel]

Chapter Three - A Little of What Ails Ye

The pain was excruciating. Sitting was impossible. As was standing up. Which meant that Fred, the last Boring Gerjammerwotsit, was forced into a sort of sub-squatting position, not too much unlike that adopted by first-time users of French campsite lavatories. He wouldn't mind, either, but his employer had insisted he stay on at work or lose his job. So there he was, hanging around World of Leather, demonstrating the delightful pleasures of the new electric Lay-Z-Boy to thoroughly uninterested upper-middle-class Friends enthusiasts, and pausing every half hour to apply a smearing of industrial-strength ointment. What a life. It's a mug's game. Etc.
As he removed his hand from his crack for the sixth time that day, he heard a peculiar whistling sound. Suddenly he remembered

[fanny splendid]

something.

But what?

[poison popcorn]

that's it! it was where the story was going.

then he got distracted by thoughts and forgot again. he was about to keep forgetting when the whistling overpowered his attention span and he shuffled over to switch off the kettle. As he poured the steaming contents into a cup he mused to himself: how could he know in advance where the story was going? It made no sense. Something funny was going on. As he lifted the cup to his lips...

[hansen mork]

.....he remembered the time he visited Dr Panross' apartment.

Twas a cold night, but warm inside the apartment. The Doctor was whistling the theme to Huxley pig (minus the oinks). However ........

[lew king]

This really is the only decent part of this site, why is full of text based dog shit?
PICTURES! NOT FUCKING STORIES ABOUT stupid crap.

[falafel]

Said some cunt, just as the thread was dying.

[Jemble Fred]

As Trevor and the other twats strode into the world of leather, armed to the arms with germoloids, calamine lotion and Nurofen, Trevor's ugly face began to tingle and he heard the most spasticatedly evil voice he'd ever heard slithering into his ears.

"...NOT FUCKING STORIES..." the unseen absolute bastard seemed to be saying... "text-based dogshit..."

"Did you hear that?" asked Trevor? "Some clueless and rude dick-toucher whining about something or other...?"

"Didn't hear a thing," returned Roland. "You're probably an evil snake person or some such crap."

"Here we is, then," chuckled Bernard, putting poor old Fred over his knee and farting out a massive cowpat of germoloids into his big fat hands. "Now just you tense up, Fred, I'm going in deep."

[TotalNightmare]

Reader's Voice - Cor, these kids stories get racier every year!

[Cerys]

Suddenly a large, richly-stocked fridge plummeted from the heavens, instantly killing a passing maniac.

[falafel]

"That was nice", thought Fred, "He was really getting on my tits for a minute."