Showing posts with label chihuahua. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chihuahua. Show all posts

Friday, 29 June 2012

Crowd Sourced Story - Part 2: Illicit Desires and Armageddons


For part 1, check yesterday's post.  It won't make any sense if you don't (not that it does anyway).  As promised, here is part 2:

--------------------------

“Uuughhh, where am I?”

Groggy and confused, Luigi’s head lurched around in a circular motion, trying to make sense of the world before him.  His vision was blurrier than a drunken bat staring at a spot light through tracing a sheet of tracing paper.  He thought he could make out several humanoid, anthropomorphic animals nearby.  Through his dulled hearing, he could several loud cries in the background, although he wasn’t sure if they were pleasurable screams or agonised screams.  Either way, they were rather disconcerting.  He could also hear a clacking noise very close by, like someone had set off a Newton’s Cradle just behind him. 

As he lolled in what appeared to be a chair, the clacking noise started to move round to his front.  Something moved into his field of vision, a woman, in black.  Before his eyes had even focussed correctly, Luigi tried to move away from this woman.  If Daniel Radcliffe had taught him anything, it’s that women in black should be avoided at all costs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you” reassured the woman.  As his eyesight began to return, he noticed she was wearing a leather basque and a pair of knee high boots.  “Not unless you pay me, anyway.”

“What do you want with me?  Where am I?”

“Only the best brothel in town.  We cater for everyone here!” and with a flourish of her hand, she motioned to several people in the background engaging in various acts of lewd behaviour.  People were tied to racks, others were dressed as assorted animals, and one guy was passed out on the floor in a pool of green jelly with a goat.  Luigi put himself in this man’s position for a moment.  Damn!  He wondered how he was ever going to recover from the public humiliation of waking naked, covered in some sort of green slime and animal hair, surrounded by a crowd of shocked onlookers staring at his massive erection.  Thankfully, he reminded himself that he wouldn’t have to deal with the after effects of such depravity.  Realising that he wasn’t in danger (unless he paid someone for the privilege), he attempted to get up.

“Oh yeah, I restrained you because I thought you were one of my slaves trying to escape.  And sorry about the metal pipe to the ol’ noggin back there.  You were creeping around in the dark though!”

The woman began to untie him.  She was very adept with knots.  Perhaps in another life she’d have made a fantastic sailor.  Luigi doubted that she’d appreciate such a compliment though.  Once freed, he rose to his feet.

“As way of an apology, how about an hour’s session?  On the house of course.”

“No, I need to find my friend.  We’re supposed to be on a stag do” declined Luigi.

At the mention of this, the woman approached a desk, pulled out a green bottle and two small glasses.  She poured the liquid into the glasses, handed one to Luigi, and chinked her glass on his.

“What’s this?”

“Green fairy.  It is a stag do after all.  By the way, what’s your name?”

“Luigi.  Yours?”

“Laura, but officially I’m Miss Inferno” and with that, she slipped him a business card.  “Follow me on Facebook” she whispered “I’m ever so needy”.

Five minutes later, Luigi found himself drunkenly putting on a squirrel outfit and trying to join the furry party.  The absinthe coursing through his veins powered him ever-forward, toward his impending doom at the hands of the amorous platypus.

Another hour and a distinct loss of dignity later, Luigi emerged from the brothel wearing a tight, vibrant latex top.  He wondered where on earth he’d find Bill at this time of night.  As he scouted the area, he saw a familiar vehicle at the side of the road.  He recognised that car from somewhere.  The hideously green Seat Ibiza with a dent in side where it had hit a lamppost, and the dent on the other side where it had hit a pony.  Obviously, this was his car.

Wondering what his vehicle was doing out here, Luigi pulled out his keys.  Luckily, he kept his car keys attached to his house keys, so he tended to take them wherever he went.  As he went to put the key in door, there was a loud squawk as a bird swooped down with an intent to rob him.  A quick tussle later and the greedy, shiny-eyed avian assailant had robbed him.  He watched the seagull as it slowly crossed the sky, his car keys hanging from its beak, glinting in the sunlight, wondering how he would explain the pink latex vest to his partner.  Jo was going to kill him when he made it back.

Despairingly, he made his way to the back of the vehicle and sat on the curb.  This was the worst stag do he’d ever been on.  If it wasn’t for the animal magic he’d indulged in earlier, the whole evening would have been a washout. 

Just then, he looked at the rear of his car and noticed that the boot had been left partly open.  He lifted the lid, only to find his friend bundled in there.  He was bound, gagged, and appeared to be in drag.  Perhaps he’d been in the brothel after all.

“Bill?”

Bill started to come to.  As soon as he clapped eyes on Luigi, he began to scream through his gag and flail around like a hyperactive earthworm.  Trying to reassure his friend and untie his bonds, Luigi started picking at the knots.  It was useless.  These were done by someone far more versed in rope play than he was.  There was only one person Luigi knew who could undo these restraints.

-------------

“Did you do this to him?”

“Of course not.” Said Miss Inferno “As I said, I only do this to people who pay me.”

Laura picked apart the knots like a child ripping open a birthday present.  It was like watching a concert pianist perform, only 76% more kinky.  She’d freed his arms and legs within a matter of seconds, but before she could remove the gag, Bill leaped out of the boot, pushed past them, and ran off down the street.  It was rather a sight to see a gagged man run down the street, clutching an empty bottle of whiskey and wearing a fabulous evening dress.  It was even more of a sight when he went crashing through the doors of a local church.

The parishioners all looked up in surprise when the door at the back of the church slammed open halfway through the vicar's service, and Bill Bishop staggered up the aisle grasping a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and wearing a sparkly, purple evening gown with a slit up the side and a pair of ripped fishnet stockings.

Chasing him down, Luigi and Laura tackled him to the ground near the altar and pulled at his gag.

“Let me go!” shrieked Bill, further frightening the congregation.

“What’s going on?  Who did this to you?” demanded Luigi, shaking his friend for an answer.

“I can’t tell.”

“Tell us!” commanded Laura, producing a bullwhip.  The sight of this only sent Bill into further hysterics.

I like avocados. In a completely non-sexual manner!” screamed Bill, rather randomly.

“What?”

“Oh, that was the safe word the other dominatrix used”

“Who’s that?  I might know her” said Laura.

“...It was Jo alright!?”

“Jo?” questioned Luigi.

“Jo, Jo, bloody Jo!  Your darling wife to be!”

Stunned, Luigi let go of his friend and stood there despondent for a few seconds.  He felt his heart wrench in his chest.  He was sure he was having a heart attack.  Or maybe his soul was dying inside.  Although now dead, he was able to continue his quest, and as you'll see in five paragraphs, he will be successful when the story concludes.

“That’s right, hubby!”

Everyone turned around to see Jo stood in the church doorway, wearing a bright pink cat suit.  She was surrounded by a bunch of other women who were wearing sashes saying “hen party”.  Luigi realised that this was all part of their hen party fun, but it didn’t heal the pain of finding out that his future bride enjoyed a sexualised role play session with his best friend.  Even though the hypocrisy of his earlier absinthe-fuelled furry sex wasn’t lost on him, it didn’t alter his booze-addled feelings.

“Wait!”  Shouted the vicar “You hen’s can’t come in here!  Hens and stags cannot come together on the same night as the matrimonial forces at work can exponentially increase, causing a tear in reality and leaving a vortex through which Satan can enter this Earthly realm!”

“Too late!” boomed a small Chihuahua just behind the hens.  Luigi recognised the dog.  It was his own.  The one he’d thrown out of his apartment for spraying dog semen all over his cushions. “And now you shall pay for throwing me out in the cold!” the dog proclaimed as its eyes turned red and flames began to engulf it.

And then everyone, the Armageddon actually did come to pass, and everyone died a very painful death.

Thursday, 28 June 2012

Crowd Sourced Story - Part 1: Chihuahuas And Revelations


I said I'd post the results of the crowd sourced story on Friday.  Today is Thursday.  I have failed you!

The thing is, the thing was getting much too big for one post, so I decided to split it into two parts.  Part 1 today, part 2 tomorrow.  Your sentences have been highlighted in yellow just to prove that I have included them.  Just remember, you bought this on yourselves, okay?

---------------------------------------

It’s difficult to comprehend how the end of the world came around from such humble beginnings.  The event that kicked off the apocalypse began in the lobby of 123 Juniper Street, with the front door being opened, and a diminutive dog being launched onto the pavement at high velocity.

The man behind this casual canine abuse was Dave Davidson, or Luigi to his friends.  He acquired this curious nickname at school by being the tallest kid in the class, and his ability to grow a luscious black moustache by the age of 10.  Also, his attraction to green overalls didn’t help either.  As for the dog, that was Luigi’s brand new pet, which had a penchant for spraying his new furniture with sexual excretions.  At once, Luigi regretted buying the rampant Chihuahua when his apartment that he'd bought for tying up young women became heavily covered in dog juice, but it was great for picking up ladies.

It was through this tiny mongrel that Luigi had met his new flame.  He’d bumped into Jo while walking his overgrown rat in the local park.  There, they sat and chatted the hours away, people watching and sharing their innermost secrets.  Luigi shared his intimate knowledge of the birds and the bees that he’d learned last week from a pamphlet, and finished his overwrought chat up line with “and that’s were babies come from”.

Their whirlwind romance grew stronger and stronger over the next few days.  Jo assisted Luigi in curbing his lady-kidnapping tendencies, and in return, he stopped trying to lock her in the basement.  Through a curious blend of infatuation and Stockholm syndrome, their romance quickly grew until Luigi finally proposed after only 5 days.  Inside the apartment, Jo was already deciding on a colour scheme for the wedding as Luigi re-entered after ejecting his dog.

“What colour flowers should we have?  Pink or purple?”

“Uhhhh, pink” guessed Luigi, as his thoughts quickly turned to other matters.  Approaching her in an amorous fashion, he hugged her from behind, his head next to her ear.

“Hey wifey.  How about giving your future husband an early wedding present?”

She sighed with a grudging reluctance.  Jo detested the thought of having her mans stubbly sack scrape at her chin like glass paper as she swallowed his pride, but duty called.  She turned to him, knelt down and began undoing his zipper.

“No, not that.  I was referring to this.”

Luigi held up a copy of his favourite DVD, shaking the disc around in the case like cold rattlesnake with Parkinsons.  Looking at the title, Jo would have preferred to guzzle a gallon of mangravy rather than watch 10 minutes of that blubbery horseshit.

“My favourite part is when they are crowned kings of the world” proclaimed Luigi as his fiancée placed the DVD in the player.

“No, they don’t actually become kings.  That’s just Leo DiCaprio’s character exclaiming how he feels while standing on the bow of a ship with the love of his life.”

“We’ll see.” Muttered Luigi.  The intelligence gap between the two lovers was glaringly obvious.

Just then, their television viewing was abruptly interrupted by a flying brick.  The brick shattered their front window, scattering glass shards across the room.  Coincidentally, those shards landed on Jo’s wedding planner in such a manner, that it later gave her the inspiration for the diamante pattern she wanted for her dress.  But right now, more pressing matters were afoot.  The pair studied the brick as a Neanderthal would an iPad.  Who was responsible for this abrupt attack?

“Aha!  Stagged ya!”

The answer came in the form of Bill Bishop, Luigi’s oldest friend and party animal extraordinaire.  To their surprise, Bill climbed through the broken window, and then kicked Luigi straight in the balls.

“Stagged you again!”

“Stop it!  What are you doing?!” pleaded Jo.

“What?  I’m here for his stag do.  So I’m ‘stagging’ him”

Despite this physical assault, Bill didn’t exactly cut a menacing figure.  To say he was short was a slight understatement.  There were rollercoasters that he wasn’t technically able to ride.  As such, Jo tried to restrain him as her husband regained his composure and rose to his feet.

“It’s alright” reassured Luigi “me and Bill are going to have a few drinks tonight.  You know, last night of freedom and all that.  We’re just going to nip out for a couple of quiet drinks, and then we’ll be home before you know it.”

“Stag! Stag! Stag!” agreed Bill.  He attempted to throw a bottle of beer to his buddy, but it flew wildly off course and hit the back wall, simultaneously smashing to pieces and lowering the property’s value by £1290.

“Alright, you boys can go.  Just don’t do anything reckless.”

With only a minimal amount of whooping and hollering, the boys departed on their night out leaving Jo alone.  She took Titanic out of DVD player, replaced it with her favourite movie; Fisting Fireman 5, then settled down amongst the broken glass for an evening of light indulgence.

------------

Later, upon discovering a majority of the animal crackers were meager sheep, Bill hesitantly pressed a Colt .45 against his temple.

“This is depressing” exclaimed Luigi.  “What are we doing here?  No one else has turned up to my stag, and we’re sat here drinking knock off beer behind an off license and eating children’s biscuits”

Bill lowered the gun.  Shooting himself now would undoubtedly cause the excitement they desperately needed, but it would be cruel to leave his best friend alone on his stag do.  Who would kick him in the bollocks if he wasn’t there?  Putting the gun away, he turned to Luigi.  “So what do you want to do?”

“You’re my best man!  You’re supposed to organise it!”

Studying his internal A-Z of the area proved slightly difficult when under the influence, but Bill scanned the local area in his brain for points of interest.  He vaguely recalled a contemporary theatre that was supposed to be rather decent.  There was an independent cinema that screened the latest Bulgarian romancic show pieces.  There was also a botanical garden in which they study exotic flora and fauna.

“Dunno.  Strip club?”

Sighing heavily, Luigi reluctantly agreed, allowing Bill to lead on to this fleshy establishment.  They zig zagged through several backstreets that Luigi wasn’t familiar with.  Stepping over several dead cats, and an array of small, bitey mammals, they encountered a tramp who kept eyeballing them.  While he'd never win any awards for his verbal sarcasm, his eyebrow trash-talk was second to none.  The pair decided to leave this homeless gent lest they be sucked into a facial hair battle rap, and continued through the omnipresent alleyways.

A little while later, Bill suddenly came to a halt outside a boarded up back door.  The building looked abandoned.  You could almost hear the rats fornicating in the walls.  Presenting his arm, Bill gestured as though they had reached their destination, like the world’s drunkest TomTom.  Grudgingly, Luigi tried the door.  It didn’t budge an inch.  He turned to Bill and shrugged.

“Oh.  No problem mate.  Wait here, I’ll find a way in” and with that, Bill staggered off into the gloom in search of a solution.

Cold and alone, Luigi started to feel uncomfortable.  He felt like there was someone watching him.  He swivelled around to see the earlier hobo approaching him, with menace in his brow.  As he approached in a threatening manner, hands prone as though he was about to feel some breasts for the first time in fifty years, the tramp spoke.

It was in France that I first painted Betty White in the nude, after hours of passionate lovemaking.  How would you like to be my new Betty?”

After calling for Bill, then his mother, Luigi decided his best solution was to kick the door down and escape.  A swift boot made short work of the rotten wood, splintering apart to fashion a spiky plank, which could be brandished as a weapon.  Luigi picked up the wood and swung it heartily at his foe.

“Ow!  Jesus!  It was just a question!  If you’re not interested, just say so!”  And with that, Hobo Joe fled to the solace of his flea-riddled bed sack.  Feeling a little foolish and cruel, Luigi realised he’d created an entrance to the building.  Since Bill was still nowhere to be seen, he decided to climb inside. 

It was pitch black in there.  As his ears started to become his most highly prioritised sense, he edged further and further into the darkness.  He could hear scuttling noises in every direction.  Listening intently, he thought he could also hear whispers.

Suddenly, this train of thought was interrupted by a searing pain across the top of his head.  The kind of pain you get if you’ve had your brains bashed in with a blunt object.  He collapsed on the floor and passed out in the darkness.