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January 2006
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Tuesday, January 31st

Curious details

music: gamelan music
mood: wistful

I awoke to see myself laying naked on the floor. I didn't find this strange until I looked to my right, and
I saw David Lynch staring at me. We were at the same plane, so I looked at my prone form once more, and realized that it had no head.
"Sad, isn't it?" Mister Lynch said, and I sighed. "Well, that's justice for you."
"Justice?" I scoffed. "Two cops raped me and cut off my head. Where is the justice?"
"I am sorry, my friend," the Frenchman interjected, "but the police apprehended a dangerous criminal, and took the appropriate measures to affect his capture."
"He's right, Tom," Alanidondra said. "I thought my love could stop your killing spree, but I paid for my
romantic foolishness with my life."
I screamed. "Stop it," I told them. "You know, I could see these two wanting to lie to me, but I don't know why you'd say such a horrible thing, Alanidondra. I could never hurt you."
David Lynch said, "I could."
"And being French, I would also inflict the most exquisite agony on her beautiful body," was the Frenchman's boast, to which he added a brutish epigram: "A woman's pain is the most powerful aphrodisiac."
"Those pigs must've done you in," I said, but she began to cry and said nothing.
David Lynch said, "Don't believe us. Watch the film."
Suddenly the room went dark, and the wall directly in front of us became a movie screen. David Lynch and I were in the first scene. He laid on the ground drooling, while I kept kicking him in the gut. He was muttering something, maybe pleading for mercy, but I was relentless, and I kept up my assault until he was unconscious.
"I'll teach you to cop out on a session of film criticism," I said, and I left the room. Lynch twitched, then I returned with an axe. I raised it above my head, then I brought the blade down on David Lynch's neck. I picked up the head and laughed, then I set it down and left.
"Where'd you...?" I asked.
"Shhhhhh," they all said at once. The little movie cut to the Frenchman in his private office, sitting naked at his desk and calling me. "Come in Tom," and I meekly walked in, dressed in garish, mismatched clothes. "You look awful," he said.
"You said I should wear this," I complained.
He laughed. "You do whatever anyone tells you?"
"I do what you tell me," I said, and he laughed some more.
Then he grabbed his penis, and said, "You look like a damn queer. Suck me now."
I got on my knees, and I sucked his cock, while he cut my ugly clothes with a scissor. Finally, he came
in a big load of semen, which I swallowed, and then I stood. I waited for him to say something, then he
told me to pull my pants down to my ankles and walk outside. "Feel free to masturbate.," he added. I was rubbing my cock as I left the room. The Frenchman sat there, and listened as shouts were heard, then things breaking, and then my scream of pain.
"Someone threw something at me."
"If it is not fatal, then I don't want to hear about it."
I snapped. I took the sash for his robe, which laid nearby, and knotted it, then snuck up on him and strangled him. His resistance was futile. When life left him, I left the room, and returned with a machete.
With one stroke, I decapitated him. I picked up his head, and kissed his still warm lips.
"I didn't do that," I protested.
"Shut up, you monster," Alanidondra said.
tommygun on 01.31.06 @ 08:47 PM CST [link] [No Comments]


Wednesday, January 18th

Madness


music: Three Little Words
mood: indeterminate

I didn't realize how long I laid in bed after Alanidondra left. It could have been three hours, or even three days. Something told me to just stay in bed, but hunger combined with curiousity to stir me, and I
roused myself with great effort. Standing up made me feel positively Herculean, and my momentum got my feet moving, first one, then the other, until I opened the door. It was dark in the outer room: I felt that someone was there; my flesh tingled. With growing dread, I reached for the light switch.
"Don't do it," David Lynch's head yelled, startling me. I stepped back, then my contempt for Mulholland
Drive made me flick the switch. What I saw destroyed me, but it was too late to turn back.
In the room, three heads were now impaled: David Lynch, the Frenchman, and the newest, my sweet Alanidondra. I screamed in horror, not knowing who or how or why this horrible sight was now tormenting me. As I trembled, two cops came towards me from opposite directions.
"Is this the sick fuck, Joe?" one cop asked the other.
"Sure is, Al," replied the other.
I wanted to speak, but no words were forthcoming. The cops circled me, occasionally shoving me, but staring at me. Finally, it was Al who got to the point. "I could see why you snuffed the two men, but what did that girl ever do to you?"
"She loved him," Joe said, grabbing some hair at the base of my skull and pulling my head back.
Al shook his head. "Is that it, punk? Did Love drive you mad?"
I tried to respond, but still could not speak. Somehow my failure angered Joe, who punched me in the stomach so hard I fell to my knees. My mouth was open, but no words came out still.
"He wants to suck your cock, Al."
Al laughed. "I'm sure he does. He loves sucking cock."
"I get kind of hard thinking about it."
"Me too, Joe, me too. Are you hard Tommy? Put your hands down your briefs, and get hard, you sick, little murdering bastard."
I found myself doing as the cop commanded, then they both attacked me. Punches and kicks came so fast I lost track of who did what, but I did not defend myself; I just kept a hold of my throbbing penis.
Finally, I collapsed to the floor, drooling as my face rubbed against the carpet.
"This is going to be a tough interrogation, Joe."
"I'll brew some coffee, Al."
tommygun on 01.18.06 @ 06:24 PM CST [more..] [No Comments]


Wednesday, January 4th

Backwaters

music: silence
mood: pensive

I wonder if anyone reads this. Once in a while, I'll give the address out, but have yet to see a single comment on any of my missives, or the serial in progress. In the past, that might have bothered, but due to my utter positivity, I take it that everyone agrees with me, and are so dazzled by my thinking that they realize they'll never reach my level of thought and have gone out to have lobotomies. Always best to look on the bright side, I like to say.
But if anyone would like to leave a note, I could possibly answer it. Until then, I'll try to maintain this blog's high standards, and get the word out, that I'd make a good President of the United States. I'll do
press conferences in a smoking jacket, and trick other world leaders into engaging in internet porn,
thereby gaining America a significant diplomatic advantage. I don't expect the Chinese leadership to be so high-faluting after cyber-space has seen them having sex with donkeys.
Would that nitwit Bush ever think of that? I don't think so. Therefore, if you have no comments, at least send your campaign contributions. I promise nothing, but I'm ready for anything. What more does America need?
tommygun on 01.04.06 @ 08:02 PM CST [link] [No Comments]