Grueberfest 09: Molester (533 hits)
Category: Science & EnvironmentalRating: 1.64 on 19 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by icarus (View user info) at 2009-10-22 11:34:48 EDT
"Name?"
"Moe," I said, keeping my eyes to the yellow-tinged linoleum. There was a lengthy pause.
"Last name?"
Of course I realized what was about to happen. Fully realized it and was as powerless to stop it as I was to change the tides. "Lester."
The doughy woman glared up from behind her rhinestone glasses; glared and bore a shaking, hot pink acrylic talon in my direction. "GET," the frosted raspberry lips spat, "OUT!"
"Look," I ventured.
"GET THE FUCKING HELL OUT OF MY STORE, SIR!"
"Hey--"
"JUST WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE???"
"If you'll just--"
"WAL MART IS A FAMILY STORE, MY GOOD SIR, AND I WILL NOT HAVE ITS GOOD REPUTATION SULLIED BY YOUR ILK!"
"Lady, it's not like--"
"GOOD DAY TO YOU, SIR! GET OUT! GET OUT BEFORE I INFORM THE AUTHORITIES!"
That's right. With a name like mine, it's hard to land a date, a hotel room, or a decent job. It's discrimination is what it is; and discrimination of the worst kind. If I'd been born black, a cripple, hell if I'd actually been a bonafied kiddy-diddler, I could have had Walmart's ass; lived the rest of my litigious life aboard a private yacht off St Kitts. Try telling the lawyer people won't hire you because you're Moe Lester. They'll they'll laugh your ass right out of office.
Why don't I just change it, you ask? Who the hell do you think I am, Trump? Rockafeller? I was fortunate in the extreme to land a job in an adult diaper fetish bookstore. It's not like I make a mint. Besides, I'm still paying off my student loans. That's right, I have a doctorate. Oh, you're so clever to have guessed it. Yes, I went for my doctorate in medicine. Pediatric speciality. Yeah, hilarious, huh? Look, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
But while I haven't exactly landed a position as a pediatrician, I have become incredibly handy in what they call "garage genetics". You know, where people build labs on the cheap, experiment around with mixing squid genes with india ink to create bioluminescent tatoos. Shit like that. Only my advanced my advanced medical training allowed me to take it way beyond parlor tricks. I discovered the MJ gene.
Yeah, that's right, Moe Lester takes an interest in Michael Jackson. You're Conan O'Brian, you fucking know what? Shut your hole for a second and listen up.
See, Michael Jackson wasn't a paederast. Far from it, actually. The tabloids will tell you that those kids he'd taken in were poor kids with terminal illnesses. Well, what the media never covered was that Jackson had pooled his money into medical research. Neverland Ranch was just a front for one of the most advanced medical centers known to the modern world. Why the hell else do you think it cost so much? MJ himself held triple doctorates in fields you couldn't even pronounce.
Jackson never molested any of the children; just performed highly advanced medical procedures on them. In his posh bedroom. After sedating them with rufies. Yeah, I know it sounds damning, but the man was on the fringe of curing AIDS, leukemia, and sickle-cell anemia; had lost his nose when he subjected himself to the early stages of a highly successful cure to ADD that medical science won't discover for a decade -- subjected himself because he didn't want any innocent rats to die.
Yet society shit on him. Why? It was genetic. A few little strands in his DNA predestined him to make all manners of faux pas and spoonerisms; to be in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time -- to have, to put it in the patois of the supersitiuos pleb, shit luck. A coffee stain on his genetic blueprint turned him from a saint to a monster, and --
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Murray, my fat, sweaty, hairless ape of a supervisor, was relaxing with his grungy sneakers up on the counter when I came back from cleaning. He was reading the latest issue of bunsworld had cracked open my Red Bull.
Which was exactly what I had expected.
"You get all the debris out of the reading room?" He asked with a chuckle, not even looking up.
"Took two wetnaps to get it all." I said.
"That's good because," his face contorted, the shiny pores on his nose gaping wide as his nose puckered. "Oh that itches." His sausage fingers darted to his groin, his thick yellow nails scratching furiously. "OOOO!" he sighed, bloodshot eyes rolling into the back of his head as his tongue lolled, "AAAAARRRGH!"
Unable to stand the sheer agony any longer, he slid down his jeans and began scratching the length of his machstick-long penis, ravaging it with scratchmarks from its hairy base all the way up to its purple mushroom-like head. There was the tinkling of the door chime. "Yargh," he sighd, "it just itches SO FUCKING MUCH!"
Mr. Drummond, the store owner, walked around the counter in his crisp new suit. "Murray Doodles Bumstead!" He hissed, "what in blue blazes do you think you're doing to yourself?? DOES MY ESTABLISHMENT LOOK TO YOU LIKE A DEN OF AGRY MASTURBATION??"
Unhearing, Murray emitted a gutteral howl that reached a crescendo with the barely discernable words, "Sooooo fuggin' ITCHY!" and with that, his almond-sized testicles swelled beneath the mats of curly black hair and his urethra spewed forth a fiery, herpes-laden concoction that basted Mr. Drumond's gold cuff-links and thin, conservative moustache.
"Murray!" Drummond's voice rumbled like thunder, "you're FIRED!"
"Well, I never." Drummond said as I wiped the remainder of Murray's spectaculate ejaculate from the cement floor. "I guess you're in charge of the place now, Lester. I never thought I'd be handing you the management position, seeing as how you've got such an unfortunate name, but your work and attendance record are both nothing short of excellent."
"I don't know what to say, Mr. Drummond." I said, "I really appreciate the opportunity, Sir. Would you care to celebrate with what's left of this can of Red Bull Murray was drinking?"
"The one with the strange hypodermic mark on the side of the can?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Don't mind if I do, young man!"
Just then we were hit by a bus. I died on impact.
THE END
User Reviews
Submitted by willartstorg (user info) at 2009-11-18 19:22:14 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
i puked
Submitted by LoooseSprocket (user info) at 2009-10-29 13:38:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2009-10-24 21:03:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by RoadSong (user info) at 2009-10-23 18:32:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by linguafranca (user info) at 2009-10-23 18:09:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2009-10-22 23:28:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Just for the record, this is the highest rated non-competing Grueberfest 2009 entry with this author and title in the entire history of The Universe.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2009-10-22 21:28:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by forensicgirl3 (user info) at 2009-10-22 17:23:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
you twisted weird tosspot.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2009-10-22 15:14:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
machstick-long penis - (adj.)(Ger.) 1. a penos that can break the speed of sound in free flight. 2. a penos known for high-speed, high-performance acrobatic demonstrations.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2009-10-22 14:12:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
TAVAK!
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2009-10-22 13:41:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 me
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2009-10-22 12:16:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That IS awesome!
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2009-10-22 12:12:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Today you are not only a man, but a new man, old chum.
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2009-10-22 12:04:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I didn't read this but turning over a new leaf on my day of birth. Am I a real man today as well, Icarus buddy old pal?
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2009-10-22 11:54:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
You are also a real man, TuTs. Everyone's a real man today. That's awesome.
Submitted by TuTs (user info) at 2009-10-22 11:50:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yargh," he sighd
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2009-10-22 11:50:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
See, Bob, you understand. You and I are real men.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2009-10-22 11:49:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
AGRY MASTURBATION
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2009-10-22 11:45:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I stand by my spellling of superstitious. Real men don't proofread.