Horror Upon Horror
Story Idea: A masked, sadistically cruel psychopath kidnaps innocent people and forces them to sit through poetry slams in their entirety.
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@somberchapel
Horror Upon Horror
Story Idea: A masked, sadistically cruel psychopath kidnaps innocent people and forces them to sit through poetry slams in their entirety.
Be a dear and shatter a decorative limited-edition Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan commemorative plate over my head when I least expect it, won’t you?
At the very least please refrain from exposing your “private parts” at the dinner table until grace has been said.
Funeral for a Busty Coed
…is the working title of the horror film screenplay I’m writing. Through a series of gruesome surrealistic flashbacks, audiences learn the shocking circumstances surrounding the gratuitously violent dismemberment of a screaming busty coed with chainsaws, an electric hedge trimmer and an assortment of rusty garden tools by a facially deformed humpbacked dwarf constantly bellowing demented crackpot alien-conspiracy-theory nonsense about malevolent technologically advanced Zeta Reticulans and brazenly snorting large quantities of cocaine off a dead circus clown’s dick. In other words: See you at the Oscars, baby.
Neat-o Gadgets, A Few Laser Guns and Some Androids or Whatever
...is the working title of my forthcoming science-fiction novel. It’s a fast-paced outer space adventure filled with action-packed robot ray-gun battles and more mile-long gray metal faster-than-light alien battleships than you can shake a space-stick at. Plus the severed tentacle count is off the charts. To request an advance copy, please speak with your clergyman about subliminal satanic “backward masked” mind-control Antichrist messages allegedly hidden on the new Enya album.
And the heart only a thumping tube all delicately murderable
...is the working title of my forthcoming poetry collection. I write poetry about life’s ups and downs, Mother Nature and also secret deadly gangster computer gods in clandestine overall control of the entire human race through covert electronic worldwide Frankenstein “living death” parasitic brainwash-radio mind-control manipulation. To request an advance copy, please refrain from exposing your “private parts” at the dinner table until grace has been said.
Conspiracy Crackpot Sweet Nothings
As she caressed my neck her sweet whispers filled my ear: “I stand alone against your mad deadly worldwide conspiratorial gangster computer god communism with sworn lifelong parroting-puppet assassins using secret gangster-government sneak-undetectable-extermination worldwide Frankenstein brainwash-radio controls."
Of mysterious occult-symbolism-rich coded puzzle clues regarding a series of murders of stunningly attractive young women in the Pacific Northwest more will be said later.
Of boxy metal robo-poets declaiming rapid-fire dada nonsense in ominous radio-static-distorted hypno-subliminal electronic voices more will be said later.
Of puny man matching his cunning against a monster from Mars running rampant, howling for all the flesh and blood on Earth, more will be said later.
Epistle from a Somber Chapel
The sky a dull gray doom canvas
Constant ubiquitous deadening bleakness
Morbidly depressed & miserable, thanks for asking
Sick in body, weary in mind, despondent & hopeless, but otherwise quite well
He left himself voicemails announcing apt new mantras
“Living darkly with no ray of light I burnt myself away,” for example
Nefarious News for Modern Man
May it comfort you in times of stress and difficulty to know that God is dead they found His corpse in the dumpster area behind an Arby’s gangbanged to death by drug-crazed slobbering sickos cackling maniacally and pantomiming masturbation as they fled into the darkness their destination and current whereabouts unknown.
Of fantastic flying monsters — bigger than battleships and faster than jet planes, screaming down the stratosphere making war on all mankind — more will be said later.
Non-Non-Non-Non-Non-Heinous Sweet Nothings
As she caressed my neck her sweet whispers filled my ear: “Everything’s different, yet the same. Things are more moderner than before, bigger, and yet smaller. It’s computers. San Dimas High School Football rules!”
Fifties Sci-Fi Film Trailer Sweet Nothings No. 3
As she caressed my neck her sweet whispers filled my ear: “Flaming fury from the skies planting the seeds of man’s doom! Shattering action! Volcanic thrills! The greatest monster-show of them all!”
Fifties Sci-Fi Film Trailer Sweet Nothings No. 2
As she caressed my neck her sweet whispers filled my ear: “Ten-thousand times more terrifying than your maddest nightmares! A fantastic ray-gun rampage! You’ll watch the world tremble in the horror-grip of Teenagers from Outer Space!”
Fifties Sci-Fi Film Trailer Sweet Nothings
As she caressed my neck her sweet whispers filled my ear: “With the swiftness of a deadly cosmic ray, the Earth is invaded by indestructible moon-monsters! Their ghastly mission: Death for all humans! What astounding technical developments are being made to protect mankind? Robot Monster brings you an actual preview of the devastating forces of our future! Unsuspected revelations of incredible horrors that will terrify you with their brutal reality!”