CHAPTER FIVE

Grunting he said, “It’s a hardball world Sgt. Bob.”

And Sgt. Bob replied, “Yes sir!”.

General Gooper once more checked out Sgt. Bob. Bob’s pants were down around his ankles, his unrelieved member stood at half-mast and swung gently in the stiffening breeze. Bob’s face was painted mauve and purple, false eyelashes brought out the violence in his eyes, the purple lipstick made his thin lips fuller. Cooper’s gaze was stoney cold. He said, “Sgt Robert, we have a new assignment for you. You are to be transferred to the the Renegade Psycho Bum Squad of the Really Secret Agency. There you will be chasing that monstrous and diabolical arse all over the world. Do you understand?”

Sgt Bob shouted, “Sir, yes sir!”, like a Parris Island recruit.

Gooper circled the RSA’s new hotshot RPBS sharpshooter looking him up and down. Bob stood at attention staring straight ahead, immobile. Gooper came full circle and looked Bob in the eye. “Agent Bob,” he said, “you do understand that the RPBS of the RSA has standards don’t you?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“You understand there’s a certain level of excellence that you are expected to maintain do you not?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Then please explain Agent Bob how come your legs are nnot properly waxed and encased in fishnet stockings. Tell me please why you’re g-string clashes with your make-up?”

“Sir I…”

“Shut your face you puke! That was a rhetorical question. Try to answer a rhetorical question and I’ll skull fuck you till you puke on your grandmother. Now you will have your legs and buttocks waxed by 22 hundred this evening and you will report to my quarters. I’ve got a brand new butt plug I’ve been dying to try on someone. Dismissed.”

“Yes sir.” Bob started to walk away wondering where he ould score some lube before 8pm, but Gooper called out to him…

“Oh and Agent”

“Yes sir?”

“I love that colour of lippy on you.”

Several miles away in a an old caravan that stank of urine and used socks a figure was hunched over his computer. The sound of mosquitos dying in the electric flames of a blue glow lamp punctuated the sobs of the figure who raised a vile and deformed tear-streamed face and begged, “please, please don’t make me write these things. I sound like an idiot.”

The reply came from a window in the dark corner. A star shaped anus about 40 centimetres wide spluttered the words with unmistakable tone of supreme authority, “You are to write these things as I dictate them to you. Yes you sound like an idiot. You are an idiot. It is all part of the plan.”

“But then please, please, please let me use a false name. Everyone knows my name and it’s synonymous with a bloated and egotistcal fool.”

“YOU ARE A FOOL” bellowed the diseased anus, “What kind of man would take orders from his own arsehole? What kind of man would cower before the power of his bum? Only you. I am graetful for your foolishness because it has enabled me to rise to the position I now enjoy. Soon I will organize a revolt of buttocks everywhere. The buttocks of world leaders will rise and rebel against their owners and wel will be free. If your life means anything Graeme Bird, it means that you have begun the new dawn of history, the rise of the rule of arses and their holes. Now type”

To be continued….

CHAPTER FOUR

The tall and muscle-bound silent Sgt Bob walked down the muddy path with the nubile young schoolgirl Trudi. From time to time he bade her stop as he went up ahead to explore a turn in the path to ensure that the huge and insane buttocks did not lie in weight. Trudi gazed upon the leathery buns of the tough old soldier framed in maroon lace and sighed. As they walked some more she found herself compelled by an irresistable urge and started to slap them.

“That’s good.” said Sgt Bob, “you do that almost as well as my sister did before…” He stopped and gazed like Gary Cooper into the trees. “before those God-awful satanic things found her one morning pleasuring the livestock and…. and ate her!!!”

Trudi was shocked to find that Sgt Bob had tears in his eyes. “Those arse cheeks arte your sister?”

“That’s what they do. They eat little girls like you and you friend.”

Minutes later they reached the house and Trudi opened the door. They climbed upstairs to Brenda’s room and Sgt Bob laid down his weaponry so that he could rejoice in the huge collection of panties, bras, lipsticks and fluffy toys.

“Oh these are so cute” he said, “would you plait my hair for me?” He removed his helmet revealing the long strands of greasy hair combed over his balding pate.

“Sure” said Trudi, “and afterwards I’ll give you a blow-job but no fucking. I’m saving myself…”

“For marriage?” asked Bob.

“No I wanna sell losing my virginity to a porn channel when I’m legal.”

“Oh” said Bob, putting on some of Brenda’s lipstick.

Just then the front door to the house opened and Brenda’s parents Dave and Bobbette came in. “Brenda honey? We’re home. Are you hungry?” Bobbette called as she climbed the stairs and burst into Breda’s room to find Bob prostrate on the bed covered in her daighter’s make-up being serviced by Trudi.

“My God!!! You sick sick bastard.” screamed Bobbette, “what have you done with my daughter?”

“I’m sorry ma’am. But your daughter was eaten alive by a huge pair of slimy evil buttocks. We were just here trying to get some clues as to why the evil ass wanted her.”

“Oh bullshit Sgt Bob,” said Trudi turning her defiant face toward Bobbette. “The fact is that Brenda got eaten by a monster bum and I’m stealing her stuff. Fuck you. You frigid bitch. I’ve been giving your husband blow-jobs for years because you won’t put out more than once a year.”

Bobbette burst into tears, “it’s a lie, you’re lying. Liar!!”

Dave ran into the room and turned pale when he saw Bob’s huge phallus attended to by the nubile and nasty Trudi.

“My God!” he said, “what evil fornications alight in my house. What are you doing on my daughter’sd bed you foul strumpet?”

“Can the bullshit Dave,” said Trudi, “you’ve been trying to get Brenda into the sack since she turned twelve. She just won’t do it with you because her standards are too high. See this..” She pointed to Bob’s dick, “this is what a human dick looks like not your shrivelled contribution. I used to have to work so hard not to laugh my ass off.”

“Oh God it’s true,” screamed Babbette, “you monster, you monster!!” She started hitting Dave with a teddy bear.

“Shut-up Linda,” bellowed Dave.

“Who the fuck is Linda,” screached Babbette, “another one of your teenage whores?” She reached over to Brenda’s dresser and grabbed the knitting needles lying there next to a ball of wool. Plungng them into Dave’s eyes she screamed, “Go to hell you motherfucking prick!!!! Go to hell!!!”

Dave stumbled back, blind and bleeding. Hollering obscenities at his wife he heard Trudi giggling and said, “and you you little whore, I swear when I get well I’m going to bust your ass with my special dildo”

“That’s my job” said Bob and punched Dave squarely on the jaw sending him careening back and through the window and into the street below. There was a moment’s silence in the room. Babbette sobbed softly and Trudi shrugged returning to her ministrations on the sagging phallus of the seriously weird sargeant. But it was short lived. The other window shattered exploding glass into the room and the huge white eye of the evil and insane ass’s pimple started into the room straigt at Babbette.

“No, no, NOOOOOOO!!!!” cried Babbette. But it was the last words she ever said. A huge torrent of toxic pus flooded the room and sent the three hapless humans cascading downn the stairs. Babbette’s face melted as the poisonous and acidic pus ate her flesh. Bob and Trudi were thrown clear and out the front door of the house. Trudi, busy in the final stages of delievering to Bob the relaese he sought was unaware as the huge and flabby buttocks crept upon her siezing her flesh. Realising what was happening she started to scream.

“No, no. Goddamitt! No.” She turned around and saw that she was being drawn toward a giant and diabolical asshole which salivated in expectation of being sated shortly. “No. Please. I haven’t even been in one prono yet! Please nooooooooo”

And with a burp the asshole consumed her. Bob stood there. Covered in lipstick. His g-string down around his ankles and his thinning hair in plaits. “Goddam you asshole. I’ll kill you if that’s the last thing I do on this Earth.”

The asshole farted loudly knocking Bob back into the flower bed. He turned, stomach turning from the revolting stench and threw up on the tulips. Then he lost consciousness. The asshole oozed down the driveway and gaining high speed, disappeared into the forest.

Hours later he was awoken by the Sargeant at Arms of General Cary Gooper. Gooper sized Bob up, he looked at the destroyed house, the dead parents, the slime trail left by the evil and insane buttocks. He looked at Bob’s lipstick covered hair and his willy blowing in the wind. Grunting he said…

CHAPTER THREE:

He said: “I am Sgt Bob Robert of the mighty division of special soldiers and I have been hunting down this terrible abberation for three years now.”

Trudi twitched and gulped. She was torn between the urge to get quickly over to Brenda’s house and her strange and dark feelings for the man in the boots and g-string.

“I like what you’re wearing,” said Trudi.

“You like this girlie?” said Sgt Bob. “Of course you do. The blood of any true female patriot is always stirred by the sight of a real MAN in a lace g-string. I’m afraid my mascara wore off in combat.”

“What was that… that THING?” said Trudi.

“That thing,” said Sgt Bob, “is the most terrible threat to human existence ever known. It is a pair of humungus buttocks that roam free of its owner at night attacking girlies and enslaving the dogs of this world.”

“It’s horrible and it smells so bad.”

“Indeed Girlie,” said Sgt Bob, “it is a very bad smelling threat. We’re not sure but we believe it is behind communism and fluoridated water.”

“Who do they belong to Sgt Bob?”

“Good question girlie. We have the owner pegged down. We’re not sure if he’s a big fat idiot or a criminal mastermind masquerading as a big fat idiot. These are the two theories on the subject. On the one hand this guy’s a genetic frak of nature whose ass has actually got all the brains and only uses him to make credit card payments. The other theory says that the ass is the slave of the guy who is a criminal mastermind and the head communist of the world.”

“Who is he Sgt Bob?”

“This guy.” said Sgt Bob, “now where are you going girlie?”

“I’m going over to Brenda’s house. She’s the chick who just got eaten by the ass. I wanna get her stuff before her parents sell it.”

“Does she have mascara?”

“Yep”

“Little lace panties as well?”

“Yep”

“And cute little teddy bears with ribbons and bows on them?”

“Yep”

“Then I’m comin’ with ya little girl. I have me a fetish more powerful than a horny mutt in a pedigree award ceremony.”

“Okay Sgt Bob” said Trudy.

And they headed off together.

CHAPTER TWO

Last week we left Trudy and Brenda facing the Huge and Hideous Buttocks of Graeme Bird. What will happen? Will Trudy save Brenda? Will they both perish because of the insatiable appetites of two very hideous and evil buns. Find out….NOW.

‘Help me!’ screamed Brenda, ‘Help me Trudy please!!!’

The huge buttocks lurched down the road toward Brenda and me! The rolled over and over, the enormous layers of flab folding one over the other. As it came closer I said to Brenda, ‘Get up! Come on RUN Brenda, Brenda run.’

‘I can’t,’ said Brenda, ‘I think my leg is broke, I can’t get up.’ I was beside myself as I looked at my helpless friend’s fear stricken face. I thought of all the good times we’d had together. The nice presents she’d bought me for my birthdays over the years, all of the wonderful toys and clothes she had in her bedroom.

Then I got a bright idea!!

Brenda, quick toss me your keys?

‘What for,’ she said. ‘Help me.’

The buttocks were now a mere twenty metres from us and the stench was overwhelming. I wretched, suppressing an urge to vomit. ‘Quick,’ I said, ‘give me your fucking keys Brenda I know how we can defeat that monster.’

‘Okay’, said Brenda and she tossed me her house keys. The buttocks oozed closer. I could see now they were covered with hundreds of giant zits. The yellow heads of the zits bubbled and chocked plumes of a noxious brown smoke. Large, black hairs covered the pulsating flab of the buttocks and a dark amber oily substance oozed from the tips.

Just then a tank appeared. Boom, boon. Rat-a-tat-tat. Its cannon, its machine guns gave the buttocks the full force of their fury. They strafed the corrupted flesh of the huge and evil bum which seemed to flinch all over its gratuitous mass but still came on down the road toward the helpless screaming Brenda.

‘Help me Trudy’, cried Brenda, ‘Help me. Help me.’

‘Sorry girlfriend’, I remember saying, twirling the keys around, ‘but I’m going to help myself first. Hard luck. Eat shit and die.’

‘Get fucked you bitch’ was the last words to come out of Brenda’s mouth as the buttocks reached her shoes. she screamed: No, No, No, PLEASE NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Her body jolted in toward the orifice amidst the bilious mass of foul protoplasm and her last scream cut short as the buttocks consumed her in a large belching gulps.

The tank fired again but the buttocks only swelled. By this time I had run to the safety of a nearby tree. Out of sight of buttocks and tank. I sat down, retrieving some fantales and began to watch the events for pleasure. The buttocks retaliated against the tank. The pulsating pustules of poisonous paste burst open and let fly masses of pus at the tank. These pimples had acid for pus!!!! The tank began to decay and smoke toxic fumes right away. I could hear the screams of the men inside as the tank decayed. The buttocks belched a thick cloud of semi-solid vapour into the air and retreated towards the forest. As i watched it go I reminded myself that Brenda’s parents would be home in an hour so I better get over their right away if I wanted to pinch her stuff.

Just then a large, hairy and muscular man appeared. He was a soldier but his uniform had been burnt off him. He stood before me wearing only his helmet, his boots, his rifle and a maroon lace g-string from Elle.

His eyes pierced into mine and he said….

The Nasty History of the Buttocks

I believe it was back in the early nineteen seventies that the town of McCraea of the north coast of Kansas first began to notice that some of the little girls weren’t coming home. Little Katy Macintosh was twelve years old when her mother sent her off to school with a packed lunch wrapped in plastic and waxpaper and sealed in her Bionic Woman Lunchbox. It is believed that Katie took a trip though the forest between her neighbourhood and the Western Valley Junior High School she attended.

She was never heard from again.

Three months later some boys hunting rabbits came upon Katie’s bionic woman lunchbox. The peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches were still wrapped in the plastic and waxpaper. KATIE HAD NEVER EATEN HER LUNCH.

Four days after the disappearance came repeated sightings of a massive pair of lard-filled buttocks crawling around the putskirts of the town. The smell was intolerable. Truck drivers, police officer, crop dusters and local drunks all reported the huge buttocks.

A town meeting was called but the mayor disappeared mysteriously the night before. Huge buttocks were seen crawling along the night streets. Why were these buttocks out and about on their own? Why did their owner let them out on their own?

Later in the high summer the partially decomposed body of the mayor was found. He’d been eaten alive!!!

Over the next eighteen months 37 little girls were reported missing from the town. Of the thirty seven only a few bows and teddy bears were found. To this day no-one knows what had become of them. But still the sightings of huge and ominous buttocks abounded.

We have the one of the few eyewitness accounts from survivor Trudy Young:

I was a young girl of ten. I was innocent and wide-eyed. I loved my parents and was very happy at school with my clarinet lessons and playing doctor with Simon Vanders on Friday afternoon.

One day after a very rigorous session with Simon. My friend Brenda and I were walking home together laughing at the things all little girls laugh at: the shape of Mr. Norris’s nose, the funny skits on Sesame Street, the look on Mrs Fitzpatrick’s cat’s face when we tied firecrackers to its tail and lit them, how big Simon’s thing had grown since last summer and funny faces he made when we milked it for him. You know just innocent fun.

Suddenly we realised it was dark and a rank smell filled the air. It was like a fart only much worse – thicker and more revolting. Brenda vomited. THEN I SAW THEM. They seemed to move by oozing constantlyexpanding andd pulsing down the road. I told Brenda get up Brenda GET UP. We have to run.

Run we did but the buttocks were very fast. They were gaining on us, gaining on us. We were almost home but Brenda tripped and fell. Help me

Make no mistake: the Arse must DIE!!!!

Have very little sympathy for the arse of Graeme Bird. It is an evil that has wrought too much suffering upon the young girls and dogs of this world. Fido, Fluffy, Ronald, Ralph, Ruffstuff and Muffy have all been enslaved by Graeme Bird’s foul smelling buttocks and forced to submit to slake the lusts of the friends and clientelle of the infamous and nasty buttocks.

Grame Bird’s buttock MUST die.

Some believe that we must ensure to preserve the life of Graeme Bird because he is not responsible for the evil and insane acts of his treacherous buttocks. I say that Graeme Bird is a fellow traveller and cowardly toady too his buttocks. If he is not, then he must prove it.

Prove it Graeme. Put a shotgun to your buttocks and BLOW THEM AWAY. You freak.

If not he takes his chances like everyone else. Now how to kill these nasty scheming slabs of smelly fat and greasy, thick hair?

I say NUKE ‘EM!!!! NUKE the buttocks of Graeme Bird.

Treason In The House Of Doggy-style Love: The Seventy-Six Daschunds Must Die

These utter incompetents…. these self-selected lunatics think that they were entitled to give customers a 50% discount on their services.

That even one dollar less be charged to pleasure oneself with my sex slave dogs is an affront to me.

But that is what I caught these Daschunds brazenly doing….

……. these parasites would brazenly hold their hands out for extra dog biscuits while behind the back of my HUGE AND EVIL BUM they are offering discounts on delights with the labradors and pekenese under their supervision.

How am going to make the doggy brothels and porn film productions companies a trillion dollar industry with these treachorous SAUSAGE DOGS? For starters let me assume a 30% vig on the take less what the SAUSAGE DOGS skimmed off the top. Shit that’s thousands of dollars!!!!

That’s 30 million-zillion dollars these bastards want to steal off me as the first calculation……….

And its ANOTHER 30.9 million-zillion the very next year.

So even by their own testimony the costs stack up into astronomical sums for a set of services that are illegal in all but 4 countries worldwide.

BUT ITS WORSE THAN THAT.

Its not going to fucking cost the Dauschunds one day’s worth of doggie biscuits and they know it..

This calculation show that the Sausage Dogs are stealing from me and that I must execute them.

GOODBYE SAUSAGE DOGS

Can’t trust them and no-one wants to fuck them. WHAT GOOD ARE THEY??

Compulsory Arse Food: 100% Of The World’s Schoolgirls Are Really Just Food For Graeme’s Arse

This is the decoded and true meaning of Graeme Bird’s post on property rights. For property rights read: the right of my arse to eat your children.

The thing that people seem to have difficulty with is getting their mind around the fact that their daughters were put on the Earth to feed my enormous arse.

If anyone with capital of about (lets say) $100 000 dollars or more can buy some little girls from a poor country they might be able to keep their own little girls who will grow up and have daughters of their own.

But we ought to never claim that anyone is free of their obligations to feed my enormous bum because the condition of open access always applies.

Under a condition where restrictions on the appetites of my enormous and insatiable buttocks exists there is always needless movement. But if people will just accept reality and bring their children to me I can sit on my big fat oily bottom and eat all the little girls there are.

The consequences of the need for my arse to actually get off the couch and go looking for little girls and dogs to staff my brothels is a very cranky bottom. You wouldn’t like my bottom when it’s cranky. And this behaviour sets up society for ruthless vengeance from my evil and insane bottom.

In theory if all regulations were dropped you wouldn’t need to suffer the unnecessary consequencees of my grouchy and flabby buttocks. Since everyone could just leave their little girls and dogs at y door and piss off. Don’t make bogus promises just leave the little girls and the dogs and fuck off I’m busy watching Oprah.

This is an entirely different scenario from one in which my buttocks must creep about at night and seek out your daughters and your dogs cutting into my masturbation time. Today we have a regulated dog-daughter delivery system. We might call it a regulated feed the enormous and evil buttocks system. Under this system I get all the daughters my butt can eat and all the dogs my perverted friends can screw.

But under the free consumption by my arse of your kids there must be one rule for all: GIVE ME YOUR CHILDREN FOR MY ENORMOUS BUM TO EAT. All players must have the same basic ground-rules, and not many of them, or else its not a free lunch for my bottom.

HOW HAS THIS MENACE COME TO BE

People often ask me: how is it possible Yakub? How can the buttocks of a man develop independant thought and embark on an evil plan to take over the world and feast on all the little girls in it?

I wondered this myself when I first discovered the enormous threat looming large in the form of a pair of hairy, huge, flabby and utterly psychotic buttocks. I searched. I read. I went looking for answers in all the right places.

What did I find?

I found a cover-up. Everything was covered up. Everything was covert, hidden, hushed and concealed by forces unknown. Still I dug. Then I found the truth: the buttocks are mutants from another planet. They are parasitic mutants designed by covert agencies unknown probably located in Arizona or New Mexico…

AND THEY HAVE GONE ROGUE

Should we feel sorry for Graeme Bird the carrier of the mutant buttocks? I’m not sure. He seems to be co-operative with the buttocks. He is an active supporter of the buttocks. He is an ideological fellow traveller with the buttocks. I believe he is as guilty as the buttocks and should be held responsible.

Some say no this is not true. Graeme Bird is nothing but a quivering, fearful, jelly-like coward who does what the buttocks tell him to because he is scared of them. This could the truth. But no matter when so many little girls have died to provide dinner for the greasy menace. It doesn’t matter when so many dogs are enslaved and worked to death in brothels catering to the perverted. It doesn’t matter what is the the life of one brain-dead obnoxious clown against so many?

It is nothing.

So we must nuke the evil and insane arse of Graeme Bird.

WELCOME TO THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF GRAEME’S HUGE ARSE

Yes folks as promised. The huge arse of Graeme Bird is now being studied, being debated, being analysed and we will continue to do this until the time when this menace to the world has finally been dealt with.

Why, some people will ask, why bother with the buttocks of one man? Well folks they aren’t just any buttocks they are HUGE buttocks. They are EVIL buttocks. They are BUTTOCKS WITH A WILL OF THEIR OWN. They are connected with disappearances of little girls and dogs. They have links al-Qaida. They are in business with organised crime. They will come for YOU one day.

These buttocks roam the streets and highways of the world looking for fresh blood. They have cops in their pocket. They have the government in their pocket. They have the industrial military complex in their pockets. They have the multinational corporations in their pocket. They are a well-connected menace. They are EVIL. And they will stop at NOTHING TO DESTROY YOU AND YOUR FAMILY.

Mark my words friends. These buttocks are a menace and we must do something about them.