Saturday, May 12, 2012

(Insane News) "Another testicle ticket written in South Carolina"

 

SPARTANBURG, S.C. -- For the second time in a year, a motorist has been ticketed in South Carolina for displaying a replica of testicles on a vehicle.

A Spartanburg County sheriff's deputy stopped a truck Sunday evening after noticing the "anatomically correct'' display on the rear bumper. The incident report says the driver removed the display after being stopped but he was arrested for driving without a license. He was also given a warning ticket for having an obscene display...

to read the rest of the story click here

Friday, May 11, 2012

Suddenly Ed Grimley, ED GRIMLEY EVERYWHERE!!!











(News For Perverts Like Me) Emma Watson is taking pole dancing classes

From THE DAILY MAIL

 

 

'She's amazed with the results because it has toned up her body so well.' The insider also said Emma was thrilled with how 'liberating' it is. Emma has been attempting to shrug off her Harry Potter stereotype for a while, stunning fans with her sudden transformation on set last month. The Burberry model was spotted on a number of occasions in tiny denim hotpants, killer heels and with long brunette hair...

 

Previously on Route d'abbaye


The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions): Route d'abbaye Track Fourteen - Golden Slumbers

The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions)

Route d'abbaye

Track Fourteen

Golden Slumbers

by

Al Bruno III



Four now.


Four Spirits of Serendipity.


Four Demons of If.


But still somehow there is only one.


It/They watches Jack Diamond and Lorelei carry out another battle in their never ending feud. They/It hear Mustard’s unspoken vows and curses. It/They shiver with anticipation as Magwier uses the Devil’s Pocketwatch to be in the right place at the right sin.


Almost time now. One last piece of the puzzle begins to fall into place...


*


It was a little after eleven and the streets of Route d’abbaye had gone dark and quiet. There was no street traffic and only a single figure made his way along the sidewalk. Dr. Flesh slowed his pace as he reached the Sallow Sultan, “You made it.”


“I was just going to say the same thing,” Zeth nodded. He was sitting on the front steps of the brothel, Maxwell’s Silver Hammer lying across his knees, “You don’t have to do this you know.”


“I was just going to say the same thing,” the tall blonde haired man replied, “I hope Magwier doesn’t think sentimentality is going to keep me from getting past you.”


“Magwier doesn’t know about what happened between us,” Zeth set the hammer aside and pulled the automatic from his jacket. Gunfire was sure to draw the constabulary but what choice did he have? What other way could he slow the man down?


“Just because you told him doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. He’s annoying like that.” Dr. Flesh looked up and down the street, “What the Hell is all this about anyway? What is his stake in this?”


“He wants Jack Diamond alive,” Zeth took aim at the other man, “he think’s it’s part of the greater good. The long game.”


Dr. Flesh lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone, he leaned forward,“It’s something more than that, can’t you feel it?”


“You’ll feel something if you take one more step.”


“And then what? I’ll put you down like a dog. I’ll put you to sleep. I’ll send you to... Golden Slumbers.” Dr. Flesh choked on the words, “There it is again! Why do I keep saying things like that?”


“It’s that kind of a night,” Zeth stood, “now step back.”


The pistol flared with light. Zeth shouted and dropped the smoldering, suddenly hot metal. Five men approached from across the street. Four carried Ak-47s, their faces were intricately tattooed and they wore dull metal armor. The man that led them was tall, pudgy and dressed in the uniform of a Constable. His waxed mustache was perfect, his gloved hands shimmered with the afterglow of an incantation.


“Allow me to introduce Supervising Constable Loundsberry,” Dr. Flesh said, “He and I go back a ways.”


“You were right,” Loundsberry spoke in clipped tones, “this place is a hotbed of anarchist activity.”


“You don’t know the half of it.”


Zeth hissed with pain and disbelief, “You called in the Constabulary?”


“Strange bedfellows,” Dr. Flesh said, “something we both know a bit about.”


The Sentries drew closer. The supervising constable spoke again, “Zeth, aka Myron Jules-”


“Myron?” Dr. Flesh snorted with disbelief.


Zeth frowned, “Shut up.”


Loundsberry continued, “-I am placing you under arrest for crimes of a violent and subversive nature. You will be taken from this place and conscripted into the ranks of the Sentries. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”


“I should have brought more guns.”


Dr. Flesh shrugged, “He always says that.”


The Sentries moved forward again. Zeth grabbed the silver hammer and retreated up the steps to the Sallow Sultan until his back was pressed against the front door. His wounded hand was aching but he held on tight to the only weapon he had left. Then he whispered a prayer to the saints of gunpowder and the firing pin.


Loundsberry’s mustache twitched worriedly at that. He gave the order to open fire.


The AK-47’s clicked hollowly, miss-firing then jamming. Zeth gave them a smile, the saints rarely failed him at times like this.


Then he was moving, charging back down the steps swinging Maxwell’s Silver Hammer. There was a wet crack and he brought one of the sentries down.


The other Sentries crowded in. Zeth jammed the handle into an armored gut, then jabbed forward dislocating an adversary's shoulder.


Now the hammer began to glow as Loundsberry began another incantation. There was a flash, and Zeth’s hand began to sizzle wherever they touched metal.


It hurt like Hell but he was ready for it this time. Zeth rolled under the legs of the one Sentry that was still standing. The armored man hit the ground as Zeth brought the mystically heated weapon up and across the Supervising Constable’s jaw. Bone shattered, flesh burned.


Then Zeth was back on his feet. Dr. Flesh was standing in the middle of a pile of unconscious and wounded men. He looked equal parts annoyed and impressed.


“Right.” Dr. Flesh dove at him.


Zeth dodged the man’s grasping hands, moving back up the stairs.


One touch. One touch from Dr. Flesh would be the end of him. Two years ago that had been part of the thrill but right now the thought terrified Zeth. If he died here who would protect Jason Magwier? The girl? Not bloody likely.


Dr. Flesh grabbed at him again. Zeth used the length of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer to keep his attacker at bay.


The sound of gunfire startled both men. Zeth knew the sound of a Desert Eagle .50 caliber when he heard it.


More shit hitting a completely different fan.


Dr. Flesh caught hold of him, his fingertips grasping cloth instead of skin. Zeth tore out of his jacket and threw himself against the Sallow Sultan’s front door bringing it crashing down.





Click Here To Continue


Tuesday, May 8, 2012

THE COLD INSIDE (a serial novel) Chapter Eleven part two

THE COLD INSIDE

Chapter Eleven

part two

By AL BRUNO III


Thursday November 10, 1994




Carol Bloom got out of work early for a change, so naturally she took advantage of the opening in her schedule to do a little supplemental grocery shopping. Tristam wasn’t too happy about it, all he wanted after today was to get home, get out of his school uniform and maybe watch a little television. But he didn’t voice a single complaint. If his Mom got stressed out, she would smoke and Tristam didn’t want her going for her cigarettes just yet. He figured later tonight he could add some cigarettes from another opened pack to the diminished one she had in her purse now.


Of course ‘Just a few things at the market’ ended up being eight bulging plastic bags all of which Tristam had to carry in while his mother unlocked the door. He jerked his head in the direction of the electric blue Camaro parked in front of the house. “What’s he doing here?”


“You’ll find out when I do.” Carol said as she opened the front door and gave a sudden cry of “Pamela!”


Tristam hurried to the door, Please God let her have caught Pam and her boyfriend smoking dope!


“What on Earth happened to you?” Carol voice was heavy with worry.


“It’s nothing,” his sister sitting on the couch, her ankle wrapped in an ace bandage and propped up on a pillow, “Just a sprain.”


The bird whistled and squawked. Ronnie Miller walked out of the kitchen with an ice bag, “Hello Ms. Bloom. Hey Tristam.”


“Hey Ron.” Tristam tried to close the door but his mother swung it back open again


Carol hefted her car keys, “That could be more than just a sprain. We’re getting you to the emergency room.”


“Mother, that isn’t necessary.”


“I say it is. Help her up Ronnie.”


Ronnie handed the icebag to Pam, “No need Ms. Bloom. On the way here we stopped by my Dad’s practice and he checked her out. It’s just a sprain.”


Tristam shook his head, “But your Dad’s a gynecologist.”


Pam shot him a five-alarm glare, “Shut up Tristam.”


Carol gave him a nudge, “I’ll handle this, you go put the groceries away.”


With a grumble he hefted up the bags and headed into the kitchen. He set them down on the counter and did his best to eavesdrop.


“You’re not lying to me are you Ronnie?”


“No Ms. Bloom, we really did stop at my Dad’s. And it really is just a sprain.”


Pam whined, “Chill out Mom.”


Mom did not like that at all, “Pamela you do not tell me to chill out!”


“Sorry. I just mean that I don’t want you to worry.”


Nice save. Tristam thought as he put the milk and cold cuts into the refrigerator. It always amazed him what a total kiss-ass Ronnie could be. He had said he wanted to get into politics when he was older and he was doing a bang up job already. Class President, Captain of the Football Team, Homecoming King and Prom King- Ronnie Miller just rolled over whatever got in his way- on or off the field.


He’s even decent to me- when there are no witnesses.


So it came as no surprise that Carol Bloom was almost as crazy about him as her daughter was. She even let her daughter have the occasional sleepover at the Miller’s house.


I wonder what Pam’s Dad would have thought at that. Tristam thought.


“Do you have plans for dinner Ronnie?”


“No I don’t Ms. Bloom.”


“Stay then. We have plenty of food.”


“Just so long as it’s no trouble.”


“No trouble at all.”


Jesus, get a room you two. Tristam sneered while he shoved vegetables into the crisper.


“How did this happen Pam?”


“Gym class. Linda Kaspary body checked me.”


“Weren’t you paying attention?”


“Yes. I was paying attention but I happened to notice your son skulking around.”


Tristam stopped dead in tracks, crushing a bag of muffins to his chest. How- But- I wasn’t there- not physically anyway...


Carol’s shout went right up his spine “Tristam get in here!”


Knowing better than to wait for a second shout he made his way into the kitchen. His mother and his sister where glaring hotly at him, Ronnie was staring intently at a spot on the carpet.


“Repeat what you just said to me.” Carol said.


Pam said, “I tripped because I looked up and noticed Tristam spying on me.”


“Cutting class again Tristam?” Carol pulled the ruined muffins from her son’s grip.


God he hated this, he hated the way she talked to him like he was five years old and in front of the captain of the football team no less! “We didn’t have class today there was an assembly.”


Carol scowled, “All right then let’s try it this way. Were you where you were supposed to be?”


“...yes.”


“He’s lying.” Pam sneered.


“You’re the liar not me.”


“Up yours you little creep.”


“You know-” Ronnie jingled his car keys, “Maybe I should-”


“No stay.” Carol said, “This will just be a minute. Tristam, you weren’t at that assembly where you?”


“I was.” Tristam said again.


“Look me in the eye and say that.”


Tristam looked her in the eye, “I was at the stupid boring assembly.”


Carol Bloom shook her head, “Then why don’t I believe you?”


“Because you’ll believe any Goddamn thing Pam says!”


The moment the words left his mouth Tristam knew he was done for. Carol Bloom’s voice went from seriously angry to seriously murderous, “Go to your room.”


“But-”


“Go. To. Your. Room!”



Click Here To Continue

Sorry PRICE BREAKS AND HEARTACHES readers...

...just didn't seem to get all my ducks in a row for a Monday posting.

 

 

 

 

The somewhat true story of how I barely lost my virginity, almost missed out on true love and nearly lost my mind!

 

Portrait of the Writer as a Young Idiot by George Vasilakos

 

 

 

Prologue

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
More new installments should start coming through next week...
 

 

The somewhat true story of how I barely lost my virginity, almost missed out on true love and nearly lost my mind!

 

Portrait of the Writer as a Young Idiot by George Vasilakos

 

 

 

Prologue

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

 

The story that explains how I went from this- 

 

 

 

to THIS!

 
 

 

The somewhat true story of how I barely lost my virginity, almost missed out on true love and nearly lost my mind!

 

Portrait of the Writer as a Young Idiot by George Vasilakos

 

 

 

Prologue

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

 

The story that explains how I went from this- 

 

 

 

to THIS!