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The Big Stupid Review


American Dream Serialization (Early Chapters)
Introduction to Jim Chaffee's Studies in Mathematical Pornography by Maurice Stoker
Introduction to Jim Chaffee's Studies in Mathematical Pornography by Tom Bradley
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: American Dream Title Page by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 1 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 2 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 3 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 4 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 5 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 6 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 7 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 8 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 9 by Jim Chaffee
Modern Tragedy, or Parodies of Ourselves by Robert Castle
Totally Enchanté, Dahling by Thor Garcia
Hastini by Rudy Ravindra
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 5 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
Unexpected Pastures by Kim Farleigh
Nonviolence by Jim Courter
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 4 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
The Poet Laureate of Greenville by Al Po
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part VI by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 3 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part V by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part IV by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 2 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part I by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part II by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part III by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 1 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
DADDY KNOWS WORST: Clown Cowers as Father Flounders! by Thor Garcia
RESURRECTON: Excerpt from Breakfast at Midnight by Louis Armand
Review of The Volcker Virus (Donald Strauss) by Kane X Faucher: Excerpt from the forthcoming Infinite Grey by Kane X Faucher
Little Red Light by Suvi Mahonen and Luke Waldrip
TEXECUTION: Klown Konfab as Killer Kroaked! by Thor Garcia
Miranda's Poop by Jimmy Grist
Paul Fabulan by Kane X Faucher: Excerpt from the forthcoming Infinite Grey by Kane X Faucher
Operation Scumbag by Thor Garcia
Take-Out Dick by Holly Day
Patience by Ward Webb
The Moon Hides Behind a Cloud by Barrie Darke
The Golden Limo of Slipback City by Ken Valenti
Chapter from The Infinite Atrocity by Kane X. Faucher
Support the Troops By Giving Them Posthumous Boners by Tom Bradley
When Good Pistols Do Bad Things by Kurt Mueller
Corporate Strategies by Bruce Douglas Reeves
The Dead Sea by Kim Farleigh
The Perfect Knot by Ernest Alanki
Girlish by Bob Bartholomew
The Little Ganges by Joshua Willey
The Invisible World: René Magritte by Nick Bertelson
Honk for Jesus by Mitchell Waldman
Red's Dead by Eli Richardson
The Memphis Showdown by Gabriel Ricard
Someday Man by John Grochalski
I Was a Teenage Rent-a-Frankenstein by Tom Bradley
Only Love Can Break Your Heart by Fred Bubbers
Believe in These Men by Adam Greenfield
The Magnus Effect by Robert Edward Sullivan
Performance Piece by Jim Chaffee
Injustice for All by D. E. Fredd
The Polysyllogistic Curse by Gary J. Shipley
How It's Done by Anjoli Roy
Ghost Dance by Connor Caddigan
Two in a Van by Pavlo Kravchenko
Uncreated Creatures by Connor Caddigan
Invisible by Anjoli Roy
One of Us by Sonia Ramos Rossi
Storyteller by Alan McCormick
Idolatry by Robert Smith
P H I L E M A T O P H I L I A by Traci Chee
They Do! by Al Po
Full TEX Archive
Side Photo for The Big Stupid Review

TEXECUTION: Klown Konfab as Killer Kroaked!

By Thor Garcia

The execution was midnight Friday at the Andersenville State Supermax: Stephen "Tex" Walker, convicted and condemned to die for the slaughter of at least 58 human beings, mostly children and old women, though at least 16 men as well, mainly homeless bums and a few Marines. Sernath was interested in breaking coverage, but only after I had swung a car-pool/hotel share deal with Marty Atrazine, the "Justice Correspondent" for the Santa Costa paper.

Twelve years ago, a cop had pulled over Tex's white Econoline van at 2:47 a.m. on suspicion of failing to come to a complete halt at a stop sign. Tex had used a shotgun to execute patrolman Frank Sheerhan, an 18-year police veteran and father of four, before going to the house of his alleged drug dealer, Carlos "Eddie" Cardone, and executing the six people who were there, including Eddie's nine-year-old daughter (Cardone himself was not home).

Tex then used the house phone to call the police, allegedly saying, "For heaven's sake, come get me, you pigs…I'm tired of all…this."

The subsequent year and a half of searches on Tex's isolated Lakeview County home yielded so much evidence that the authorities could have continued executing him for several decades into the future, if that had been possible. The major finds included: two 13-year-old twins, Kimi and Kai Ponchar, tied spread-eagled to radiators; one (still unidentified) decaying headless corpse in the bathtub; a ribcage in the kitchen sink; the obligatory severed penis, provenance unknown, in a pot of boiled spaghetti, several months old; a head in the freezer, most of the skin torn off and a two-inch hole in the cranium, from which brain matter had apparently been extracted; three more heads in a wheel barrow in the basement; a dozen hands and parts of feet stuffed in plastic buckets; several glass jars of teeth; at least 16 dildoes; several dozen containers of various types of acid and industrial lyme; and at least 15 shallow graves scattered across Tex's acreage, each containing an array of body parts.

Marty and I wound through the golden hills of late morning, heading toward our rendezvous with Tex and the execution chamber.

"Good-looking young guy like you must really get the ladies," said Marty, who was somewhere in his 40s. "Snatch, we used to call it…I bet you get a lot of snatch, huh?"

"Not really, Marty. It's harder than you might think out there."

"Ah, modesty. Well, I would recommend that you take advantage of it while you can. I wish I had gone for a few more myself. It comes to an end really fast, let me tell you. Then you're stuck with one…I been with my wife 21 years."

"That's a long time. I'm sure it's not all bad."

He nodded. "We got two kids, yeah. They're good kids. They get a B average in school. Yeah, sometimes we share something special."

"See, that's something."

A team of forensic psychologists had determined that Tex's mother, Corrine, had forced him to wear rubber underwear until the age of 11 because of persistent nocturnal wetting problems. Tex's father, a truck driver, had been beaten to death with tire irons in a parking lot, allegedly over a debt. The psychologists said that in the difficult months after the murder, Tex's mother had apparently started to screw her brother, Vinnie, who had lost a leg, a foot and three fingers when he was shelled by fellow American soldiers in the Korean War. When not screwing Tex's mother, Vinnie had often taken young Tex to bars in the town of Kirven, Texas, according to the psychologists. Tex learned to tell jokes and how to play to darts and pool. He began drinking at an early age.

The investigating psychologists, after hundreds of hours of interviews with Tex, determined that Tex most likely was sexually assaulted at least several times by drunks in the bars. Tex's mother, for her part, would beat him and his uncle for hanging out at the bars. Hospital records showed that Tex was treated for numerous fractures, lacerations and burns before the age of 12. His mother and uncle were also repeatedly treated for injuries, as well as for crabs and chlamydia.

According to the psychologists, Tex's mother told him she tried to abort him but couldn't find a doctor in time. Corrine said Tex's real father was General Dwight D. Eisenhower. She said Tex was born the day that Enrico Fermi died. Corrine went on to convert to the Church of Jesus Christ, Scientist. She suffered severe spinal damage when she was hit by a car while walking on the street. Tex had to take care of her from the age of 14, including changing her diaper.

Marty gunned his Subaru wagon toward the Supermax. We absolutely had to make the 3 p.m. news conference or we could forget about being on-site for what had become popularly known on TV and the internet as "The Texecution." More than 400 clowns from across the U.S.A., as well as dozens of foreign clowns, had formally applied to cover the "state-ordered legal homicide." Because of the overflow, there was to be a drawing to determine which 25 clowns would be able to witness the execution in person, alongside family members of the victims. Unlucky clowns would have to watch the killing on secure closed-circuit television in the prison auditorium.

They were sitting outside, coffees and a half-eaten plate of nachos and refried beans on the orange plastic table. Bugs hit the overhead light, bounced off, hit again. I walked up and introduced myself.The Supermax was completely enclosed by 30 foot-high concrete walls, with the special "Death Wing" extending to the southeast. The wing included the Execution Chamber and eight cells housing those next in line to get the lethal skin prick. In addition to Tex, the current occupants included:

— Mughal "Mugsy" Whyte, who had gunned down six people in a convenience store during a crack-fueled robbery in which he made off with $54 cash and two cartons of cigarettes.

— Ian "The Sapper" Soham, convicted of raping and strangling 11-year-old Leticia Bailey and 10-year-old Kimberly Muliaga after abducting them from a park where their parents were participating in a softball game. Soham sent pictures of his craftsmanship to Leticia's mother over the girl's cell phone.

— Francine Koza, 68, convicted for the poisoning murders of five husbands over 26 years.

— Walter "Evil Eyes" Sheridan, convicted of kidnapping, sexually assaulting and eventually killing at least 14 women aged 24 to 52 that he had kept chained in an underground dungeon in his suburban tract home because, he testified, they had "evil eyes."

— The allegedly mentally retarded Juan Gonsalves, 39, convicted of abducting, raping, and pouring roach killer down the throat of 9-year-old Christina Gontares, who was left blind and brain-damaged before finally dying six months after the attack.

— Rashawn "Gumby" Saunders, the Blood Bounty Hounds gang founder, convicted for the gun murders of nine Vietnamese immigrants during the bungled attempted robbery of a car-wash.1

— Daniel "Kluster Killer" Ignoto, the mortgage banker convicted of killing 19 prostitutes and burying their bodies in "clusters" in the forests surrounding his gated Meringue County mansion.

— Andrew "Angel of Death" Strassmeir, a registered nurse who had pleaded guilty to using drug cocktails to end the misery of at least 37 mostly severely injured patients, as well as some who were about to be released, in a hospital burn unit over three years.

— Lawrence "Buddy" Miles, former operator of the child-porn sites lolitatoysnboys.com and babygotcrackd.net, who had somehow successfully traveled to Volgograd to adopt a 4-year-old blond Russian girl named Svetlana, whose body was never found but whose photographs testified to the capacity of the human body to suffer pain.

Supermax spokesman Ben Greenman addressed the clown mob from the podium: "Ladies and gentlemen, the death mixture will include Sodium Pentothal to make Mr. Walker unconscious, Panuronium Bromide to stop his respiration, and finally Potassium Chloride to halt the movement of his heart. Mr. Walker should feel nothing more than that he is going to sleep…"

Clowns shouted: "What's the last meal, Ben? What's he gonna have?"

"Mr. Walker has requested from the prison kitchen 16 bologna, cheese and mustard sandwiches, three bags of Lay's potato chips — barbecue, sour cream n' onion and salt n' vinegar flavors — one container of rainbow sherbet ice cream, one packet of peanut M&M's, and a two-liter bottle of Diet Pepsi…"

"In conclusion, Governor Wattle supports the death penalty because he believes it is Constitutional, that it saves lives, that it punishes murderers, and that it can act as a discouragement to others who would willingly take the lives of others…The governor believes, of course, in the absolute importance of executing only guilty men, and in the case of Mr. Walker, there is no doubt, reasonable or otherwise, that he is guilty of terrible crimes…It does not give the governor any joy to put men to death, but he believes it is a solemn duty that he is Constitutionally obligated to carry out…"

Marty's name showed up on list of those allowed to watch them zap Tex live. I was an unhappy clown. I would have to watch the TV.

"Don't worry," said Marty, "I'll give you some good inside poop for your piece."

"Thanks, Marty. I guess I can fake it…"

Tex was never investigated for involvement in the house fire that killed his mother and uncle. He was instead sent to a series of "homes" and "institutions" operated by the state or religious groups.

According to the psychologists, who interviewed many of the workers who looked after Tex during this time, Tex was a somewhat unusual youth who was fascinated by fire and had an odd propensity to "find" dead dogs and cats. When Tex was 18, his friend Joey Poggan apparently slipped off a rock and fell 80 yards to his death in a box canyon below. Tex told investigators he was on the other side of the rock and hadn't seen anything.

At the age of 19, Tex decided to join the U.S. Marines and actually managed to pass the physical and psychological tests. The official military paperwork noted Tex's "slightly higher than average intelligence," but said the young man suffered from a "lack of discipline and stability." The recruiters were hopeful that Tex stood a "good chance of benefiting from the rigors of the Marine environment." Tex was discharged from the Marine Corps after less than a year due to "bizarre and disruptive behavior," according to the psychologists. Tex had apparently developed a fondness for inspecting the genitalia of his fellow Marines, resulting in a series of fights in which Tex suffered several broken bones and, in one case, internal bleeding. Tex also received a series of punishments after being blamed for starting at least six fires in trash cans and dumpsters.

After leaving the Marines, Tex received a large tattoo on his stomach. It showed a frog drinking from a beer bottle. Tattoos of a cobra on his left bicep, and a leopard on his right, soon followed, as did more than a dozen "figure-8" tattoos of varying design on his arms, legs and hands.

Tex lived for at least the next several years with Franklin "Franky" Hogue, a maker of chicken feed in Lakeview County. Hogue was a known alcoholic and a paroled molester of boys as young as three. Hogue was found dead in 1976 with multiple stab wounds and three plastic bags over his head. Tex, who had relocated to Reedsport, Oregon, by the time the body was found, was never questioned in connection with the death.

Tex apparently spent the next few years "wandering," according to the authorities. Investigators found evidence showing he had logged time in Hollywood, Florida, as well as Louisiana, Montana, New Mexico, Vancouver and Salt Lake City. Eventually, though, he returned to Lakeview County and took a series of handyman and driver jobs with the school district and local businesses. Investigators never determined how he acquired the more than $40,000 in cash with which he purchased the farmland property, but burglary or robbery was suspected.

"Listen, Marty," I said as we drove to the Inca Hotel, where would be staying the night, "this thing's gonna get over too late to stop at a bar afterwards. Let's hit a store and get few bottles for the hotel…I'm gonna need something."

"Yeah," said Marty, "a couple bottles, why not…This is my first execution, too. Let's blow the roof off when this thing is over, me and you. I'll have to write a think-piece for Sunday's paper, but I can do it Saturday morning."

"Sounds good, Marty."

"My wife won't care if I have few drinks, not after this thing…Yeah, let's get a bottle or two."

Marty pulled the Subaru into a Safeway. I picked out the largest bottle of Jameson's, while Marty, after some deliberation, grabbed a jug of Equinox Dry. I added a flask of Rossini, the medium-size one, and we agreed on an 18-case of Bud Ice in cans. We threw in a couple large bags of chips and cheese puffs.

Court hearings forced police to admit that Tex was the same "Tex" they had interviewed at least 24 times since 1981 in connection with a variety of homicide and missing persons cases. Police admitted Tex had passed at least three polygraph examinations during this period. Police admitted they never sought a search warrant for Tex's property, nor even requested that Tex submit to a voluntary vehicle search.

Tex responded, during the trial, by saying he had "worked" for the police, as well as the FBI and CIA. Tex said he was part of a "big network," and had enjoyed extensive contacts with government operatives from all the major agencies and even agencies that nobody had ever heard of.

The FBI admitted in court documents that Tex had in fact worked on contract for the Bureau as a "delivery driver" for "not more than 14 months" in 1984-85…but "under no circumstances," said the FBI, had he been "employed" by the Bureau…

Tex said he was innocent, that the whole thing was a "big mistake." Tex said he had lost track of how many people he had killed. Tex said he killed to save the world from nuclear bombs. Tex maintained there had not been a nuclear bomb explosion since he began killing. Tex said, however, that he had been unable to prevent Chernobyl because he had not killed when he should have. Tex said he had been able to prevent a number of earthquakes, however, because he had killed at the right time.

Tex went on to say that actually, he had been a "hit man" for the CIA, and that all his kills had been "targeted hits." Tex said the FBI had ordered him to kill as part of secret mind-control experiments. Tex claimed the CIA had been frying his brain with "rays" since he was in the Marines. Tex said he had been "set up" by the local police force to kill drug dealers, prostitutes and troublemakers whom they wanted to get rid of. Tex claimed he had received experimental drugs from FBI operatives, and had submitted to regular testing of the effects.

Tex said he didn't know why he had killed.

Tex apologized repeatedly to the families of his victims, but said he had been forced to kill in order to save a greater number of lives.

Tex reached an agreement with prosecutors to plead guilty for 58 killings. The cops said they were ready to continue the investigation and might be able to add maybe 20 more homicide charges.

The case came down to the sentencing phase. The defense attorneys said Tex should be allowed to avoid the death penalty "by reason of insanity." The state prosecutors said Tex had attempted to cover up his crimes and dispose of evidence and was "clearly not insane."

Prosecutor David Gilleland declared to the jury: "Ladies and gentlemen, Stephen Walker killed these people because he wanted to kill them. End of story. He covered up his crimes and did not report them to police because he understood that these acts were against the law, and he wanted to escape responsibility and not be held accountable. End of story. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it is your responsibility to hold Stephen Walker accountable here, in this courtroom today."

The verdict came in: Not Insane.

The verdict made Tex angry. He denounced it through his attorneys as "unfair" and "unjust" because, among other things, Lawrence C. Olester, the Green Ripper Slayer, had only received life in Ohio after confessing to more killings (71) over a similar period of time.

For the past five years, Tex's lawyers had been fighting in court to overturn a regulation preventing male prisoners from wearing makeup. The State Equal Opportunity Commission had originally ruled that the Andersenville Supermax authorities were not guilty of "gender identity discrimination" by denying Tex access to eyeliner and lipstick. With that case still pending, Tex succeeded in changing his first name to Stephanie and had his attorneys file another suit to force the state to pay for sex-change surgery.

Tex's court-appointed lawyer, Barbara N. Clempstein, argued that the authorities were obligated to treat Tex's "gender identity crisis like any other medical condition." Clempstein argued that the state's refusal to pay for the operation violated Tex's Eighth Amendment right against cruel and unusual punishment. She brought into court experts who testified to their belief that the sex-change surgery was "medically necessary" for Stephanie Walker because, they said, he/she might try to commit suicide if he/she did not have it.

After an initial setback, the appeal went in Tex's favor, and Tex had accordingly received the mandatory psychotherapy, followed by injections of female hormones and laser hair removal from his chest, legs and pubic area, as well as unrestricted access to lipstick and eye shadow. This had resulted in, among other things, larger Tex breasts. Prison authorities, however, refused to relent on the issue of male lipstick, and had in fact countersued to block the actual sex-change surgery, saying they could not condone any "elective surgery" that would increase the likelihood that Stephanie would become the target of sexual assaults by other inmates.

The case was still tied up in the district courts when Tex/Stephanie, now age 63, was rolled into the turquoise-tiled execution chamber, buckled to the gurney with eight yellow leather straps.

Justianne Hamandpour had landed Tex's final media interview.

CLOWN: Tex, what can you possibly say to the families whom you have hurt? To those whose loved ones you have taken because of your greed and overwhelming, grotesque perversity? What about the people, the people, the children, the little boys and girls, who will have to live with the legacy of your selfish, perverted crimes? Do you have any answer, Tex Walker? Do you have one single thing to say? I'm waiting, Tex Walker! Listen to me, Tex Walker! Do you have anything to say? I'm waiting!

Tex, who had ballooned to 365 pounds, according to prison officials, used one hand to rub his beard, the other to touch his left breast. His hair and beard were completely gray. His eyes were bloodshot, face bloated, mouth toothless. He spoke in a soft, slightly backwoodsy voice.

CLOWN: Well, Justianne…you look lovely, by the way, I love what you've done with your hair…But you see, Justianne, nature is an interrelated field or continuum, no part of which can be separated from or valued above the rest.

"I feel so much love," the execution chamber microphone caught Tex saying. "I'm ready for the final blessing."

I wrote it down. Several hundred of us clowns were looking up at the auditorium screens, chewing nails and biting lips, hanging on each Tex-death phrase. Standing Room Only – clown crews and contingents catching chatterbox Tex/Stephanie on the final death crawl. We chewed gum and sucked breath-mints, sometimes gulping free coffee from the complimentary red, black and blue SUPERMAX? mugs ($8.99 in the prison gift shop) that prison staffers had distributed as we entered.

A team of medics walked up to the gurney and fastened the tubes into his arm. As they worked, Tex/Stephanie began to sing.

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Bound young virgin,
Mother and child

"That's disgusting!" said a clown to the left.

"Can't they make him stop?" said a panicked-looking Nathalie Q. Kacchnitz of The New York Times.

Several clowns began to boo.

"They've got to be joking," said a clearly outraged Bartolo Palaverman of The Wall Street Journal.

"This is appalling!" shouted Heanus Williams of It's Tough-Tough Questions Time With Heanus Williams.

Within 20 minutes, Williams would hit the international airwaves live to denounce the "disturbing spectacle that prison authorities had permitted to take place. Ladies and gentlemen, they allowed

Tex Walker to have the last laugh. It was as if he had been allowed to kill again, and again, even in his own death chamber."

Sleeeep in heavenly peeeeeeeeeeace

It was hard to tell from the TV screens, but Tex's eyes seemed to widen. He fell silent. The auditorium fell silent.

Tex's head rolled to the side, then suddenly jerked up, as if he was about to speak. His face made several contortions, a lengthy grimace. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, up and down.

Finally he slumped. A doctor in a white smock and face mask came over, checked a few dials. He pulled a green bag over Tex/Stephanie's head.


Clowns sat and wrote it up, or went live on TV and radio. Marty called me after about 15 minutes. He told me several family members had broken down in tears as Tex sang. He told me Head Warden Orberndorfer had given the signal to the "anonymous executioner" by raising his eyeglasses to his forehead.

"Go ahead and use it if you want," said Marty. "We're all going to put it in."

"Thanks a lot, Marty."

I typed the tidbit into my final edit, then decided to take it out…It was useless. It was all useless. I shipped the piece over the phone.

I thought about the cigarette I would soon be smoking outside, and the booze I would soon be drinking at the hotel.

"Hey, there …cheers," said Marty.

"You bet, Marty. . . ."

I leaned over and we clinked our complimentary SUPERMAX© coffee mugs, which were now filled with Jameson's and hotel ice. Marty sat back on the couch. I was sitting at the table. It was about 3 a.m. I pulled from a beer, had a gulp of the Jameson's. Marty flicked around through the TV channels.

"I still got to write that think-piece for the Sunday Outlook section," said Marty. "They want it by eleven."

He was wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, shoes and socks off. He set an empty beer can on the table, gobbled a handful of cheese puffs. He got up to pour himself from the Equinox.

"This morning?"

"Yeah…They want to know what it means, you know? They won't even give me a minute to relax. They're never satisfied. They wouldn't be satisfied with Hemingway sending it in."

"Listen, I'll write it for you."


"Sure, Marty."

I grabbed a napkin, scribbled HE'S DEAD and handed it to him.

Marty laughed, threw the napkin to the floor. He punched TV channels.

"Hey, what the heck's this? Says here, Splooge Storage III…"

Marty turned up the volume. A guy in a big black mustache reached back and slapped a woman in the face. She was on her knees, a red bow in her hair and her tits hanging out. The camera panned over her red latex boots.

The male seemed angry for some reason. He was a skinny little guy, frog legs and a stick for a neck.

Fuckin' slut…Suck it, you bitch!

The guy pulled her hair, slapped her again.

Oh yes, hit me! she whined. Hit me! I've been so bad!

He pulled her hair, smacked her again, the other cheek.

Oh yeah, she said, the slapped spot pinkening. Oh…that…felt…good…

She grabbed hold of his penis with both hands, put it in her mouth. They were in a big house somewhere—white leather couches, palm trees visible out the window. A different guy came up, already naked. He got down on all fours and began to lick her asshole. As he did so, the camera showed a different woman crawling over. She bent apart this guy's cheeks and began to lick his bung. A third woman came up and attached her tongue to the second woman's ass.

It seemed assholes had never tasted so good. Pretty soon, everyone was licking assholes, except for those women who had penises in their mouths.

"My God, shit," said Marty, reaching for a corn chip. "Shit, my God…"

The males stood and slammed their penises into the throats of the females. The males seemed to be having difficulty, however, they could not seem to get very hard. Their penises bent backward slackly, or fell toward the floor when they happened to slip out of the mouths dripping with saliva. The penises also appeared small, embarrassingly small—I had really expected much bigger.

Something was badly wrong. We had a right to see bigger cocks than this. Much bigger. We had the right to demand them as big as trombones.

Spare females crawled around, looking for assholes to lick and penises to suckle. The males grabbed the sides of the females' heads and pulled them forward, forcing them to choke and gag upon their penises.

Urf, went the females as they gagged, urf…urf-urf…urf…

Their faces turned red, the females were needing air. One by one they succeeded in spitting out the half-hard penis, huffing in a breath, then grabbing for the penis and gulping it back down.

Urf, oh, urf-urf…that's so good! said one, gasping for breath. Oh, it's so big, big…urf…urf-urf…

She lied. It was small.

"Jesus, don't tell my wife!" said Marty. He giggled.

"Sure, Marty. . . ."

Marty swirled his index finger around in his glass, had a guzzle of Equinox. His arm jerked out for the bag of cheese puffs.

"My God, I've never seen it like this! Have you?"

"Never, Marty…"

Oh yeah, I love it hard, urf…urf-urf…(GAGGING)…urf…

Five or six guys had surrounded the woman, slapping her face with their barely hard penises.

I love it tough, urf…Oh, fuck yeah…urf-urf…give it to me…I've been such a bad girl, urf …(GAGGING)…urf-urf…

"Lookit there," said Marty, "she's got one tit bigger than the other. I swear she does! Those tits don't look real to me…Do they? What do you think?"

"They look like bowling balls, Marty."

"Yeah, they do! Bowling balls, ha, that's funny!"

Oh, oh…Yes, I want three big, big men to fuck me…please, please, please give it to me…Oh,oh…urf-urf…urf…(GAGGING)…urf-urf…

"Jesus, they're really reaming her!" said Marty, cheese puff crumbs falling from the corners of his mouth and on to his T-shirt front. "Jesus, would you look at that…They've got her in every hole! Goddamn it, the fuck! They're gonna rip her in half!"

A guy groaned and ejaculated into a woman's rectum. A second woman ran over and sucked up the semen as it oozed out of the first woman's anus, taking care to slurp up each bit, sticking her tongue into the anus for good measure. She then took the semen and dripped it into a third woman's mouth. The two women French-kissed, smearing the sperm over their lips and cheeks and finally blowing bubbles with it.

"Ha-ha!" said Marty.

Equinox Club jumped from the jug, into his glass, out on to the table. He filled it back up.

"Jesus, my wife would kill me if she knew I was watching this."

I woke up about noon and lit a cigarette. The TV was still on.

I like it rough, really rough…gimme your cock…um, um, I love it…urf-urf…

Marty was passed out in a chair in front of his laptop.

I looked at his screen. He had written a headline: JUSTICE FINALLY ACHIEVED IN WALKER CASE?

I shook him.

"Marty…Hey, Marty…You really should finish your thing.

1 Saunders had long proclaimed he had "nothing to do" with the killings, but as his scheduled execution drew closer he finally admitted to organizing and encouraging the bloodbath by his gang pals and began to plead for mercy, claiming he had seen the light and had decided to devote his life to helping the poor, stupid and criminal overcome their conditions and join the religion of Christianity. He had gone on to form a number of prison prayer groups and to author several well-received books for children and teenagers explaining the "dangers of gangs." Despite his numerous good works, he was executed as planned. — ED.

This is an excerpt from the novel News Clown published by Equus Press


© Thor Garcia 2012