story by Norm and Paul
music by Dave
"Gloria, go grab me my last shot of crack and heroin before we call it a night. Did you bring the specimen?" his sick ugly warped burnt face asked, sucking on a kind bud blunt stuffed with Salvia. "Yes, darling, I brought him." This 14-year-old Japanese sex slave responded. As her 80 pound body brought him in on a dog chain. Their body guard goons brought out a man named Norman, who supposedly had something to do with the resistance and had some warped idea that he was going to possibly save the good earthlings left, or at least the dam junkies of his own gang. "So they call you Norman? Eh? Some sort of futuristic poet you call yourself here to save the rest of these pathetic humans? Where is this man that lives among the shamans in Arizona that has helped you start your rebellion against me! I want names! Bitch! I want names!"
Norman looked at the man's blasted face and sighed. "His name is Black Elk.... He's an Apache--But he's got a .... a special ally." Plopo's single, infectiously weeping cyclopean eye--encased in a mass of ovoid knobby scar tissue and exposed cartilage--was difficult to look into....Who?"--He asked. "The ally is known to all...." Norman said ambiguously. "Get ON with it, man!" Plopo hissed. "I know you're going to find this hard to believe." Norman said. "The ally is.... is--"" Norman's mouth was gaping like he was seeing a ghost. He was staring past king Plopo at the teenage Jap whore sex slave--Her shiny yellow neck was stretching at the sides--enormous bulges appeared like grossly swollen adenoids--They pulsed in and out like twin hearts or rapidly inflating balloons--"That's not.... POSSIBLE", someone said--And then her strings of colored pearls stretched and burst as an enormous object began heaving out her throat--Everyone was staring, frozen. I knew i had to act fast. The thing was already bursting out her mouth as her eyes bulged helplessly--Her muffled scream was suddenly choked off as the head began emerging, strechin g her red lips beyond their limit--I had my Enfield out of its shoulderholster justr as the face of Ryan Seacrest flew forth in a burst of blood and bile--The spermoid thing had no body, only a rootlike mandrake tentacle wavering behind, and it hideous swollen lips parted in an Elvis sneer as it began to sing. The semiautomatic shattered the silence and the alien Seacrest head exploded, flapping back against the wall in a blast of red mucuslike brain matter. King Plopo's single eye swiveled about in shock and he leapt under a massive wooden desk, his enormous hands flying up to protect his half-exposed little chicken brain (covered only in skin graft from a pig's ass Chuck had told me)--I knew Plopo was insane and his war with Obama was going to get us all killed--Obama was nothing but a fucking Snake at this point and we all knew it. The Aliens's house nigger. I decided to get the fuck out of here while there was still some goddamn crack left to smoke. Norman had a stash and we smoked in his bong as we rode the bus down to the crack cocaine egg-site. Massive scaffolds had been erected--workers chipping massive crystals off into buckets night and day--it looked like a fucked up salt mine or some bizarre abstract sculpture project... Off in the distance the earth's last bombs and bullets could be heard exploding as the Vatos and the pigs annihilated eachother. Pervs and crackheads fucked and killed oneanother and smoked crack from huge glass bongs naked everywhere--Moaning, writhing, cut and bleeding, rolling in the broken smashed bong shards which littered the streets like crushed rainbow candy--Glassblowers were making a killing--There was one on almost every corner nowdays. It was amazing what people really needed to survive--Most lived on the nation's vast stockpiles of malt liquor and saltine crackers and beef jerky--But even that shit was going stale, and nobody was producing anything anymore--they were consumed in cocaine addiction--It was staring to remind me of the early 1980s in other words. Obama's assumed second term had ended sixteen months ago, and no election had been held for the second time--Nobody knew what was going on in any other cities--each zone a separate and wholly, totally unique channel for the Aliens's mind TV... I alone knew that in Phoenix, for example, a race war had broken out between the whites and Mexicans, with the blacks siding with neither faction--And in New York City that pedophiliac Snake Woody Allen had assumed local dictatorship, with the Jews ruling as an elite overcast with exclusive access to the N.Y. Zone crack egg... I kept this info to myself--Meanwhile Norman's ally Black Elk was feeding him certain information from the North pole where a faction of Hell's Angels had amassed in a former Russian military barracks.
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Crack City (part 1)by redpaul794,920 views
Woody Allen assuming dictatorship?? Holy Flying Fuck, that scares me more than this apocalyptic scenario.
bluecollarcanuck 1 year ago