Breathe- #Fangoria Fans


Horror Suspense fans. “Breathe” is now at .  Click on the pic and come on IN.

Breathe PIC

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Lil Kim Pregnant


What the Frig happened to Lil Kim?  She looks like Latoya Jackson horribly gone wrong.

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Scorgen MahCorken


Scorgen MahCorken

 

                It’s two past midnight and Mr. MahCorken is sipping three fingers of Wild Turkey 101, trying to endure the fucking Devil Winter.

Scorgen MahCorken knew the evil snowman was lurking somewhere close; but the evil snowman didn’t know that Scorgen MahCorken had a plan up his own sleeve.

“MAHCORKEN!!”    A vagabond yelled with psychotic excitement as Mr. MahCorken ran out into the Exorcist cold, scorching the shit out of the evil snowman.

Flamethrower galore lit up the dismal, faithless night as Scorgen MahCorken contemplated to himself; “If there is truly a God, what was his ass bang reason to create Winter?”

Mahcorken aimed his flamethrower up towards the sky, sending turbo bursts of fiery warmth above as sizzled angels fell upon the frigid, snowy ground, each appreciative to be put out of their chilly, grieving miseries.

“If I want white powder, I will get myself a kilo or two and be in Miami Vice episode; Fucking cooked and toasty to the tee.

Fuck these lunatic people exclaiming nauseatingly.  “Oh, did you hear it was going to snow?” “Going to snow lots so we can head up to the mountains, put on puffy jackets, strap wooden planks to our feet and speed down a slippery, “cold as a morgue” incline, potentially running into a tree and dying a non prestigious, premature death.”

“DID YOU HEAR IT WAS GOING TO SNOW TODAY!”    Yeah, that’s why I brought a fucking flamethrower to spite the miserable Season.

                Patterson, O’Brien and MahCorken in a warm pub; throwing darts, drinking fine Scotch, playing grab ass with all the fine women around them; Living Life like The Good Ole Days. 

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Found Ground


“Found Ground” Has Arrived ~ http://store.blurb.com/ebooks/460678-found-ground

Surreal

Al Hirt


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Bibsy Bobbit


Bibsy Bobbet

[Inspired by Kristen Robinson]

 

Bibsy Bobbet thought that she was the female version of the Unknown Comic, accosting and hijacking local youth theater stages, cackling like a livid lunatic, making bad jokes and spurting profane, meaningless phrases until the authorities arrived.

“FUCKING FRACK IN THE BASTARD ASS UNTIL

THE MEATHOOK FUCKER CAN BANG

THE BASTARD ASS NO LONGER.”

Bibsy Bobbet came from a three legged family that fetishized about ape capes and encasement as a whole.

“God damn newspaper says it is going to piss down again today.”

[Miss Bibsy Bobbet was not pleased]

She ran down slick streets doing pelvis thrusts within the vain of Olivia Newton John with an undertone of Jane Fonda’s sternness, dancing and romancing within a triple shiny leotard that demanded attention.

“You know we have laws here, Miss Bobbet,” expressed a tall, Tom Selleck mustache wielding “MF”er.

“I know fine ‘orficer,’ but I need to make jukebox money somehow.”   Bibsy Bobbet’s tone of voice was not appealing to ‘orficer’ at all, as the Tom Selleck deplorable wannabe threw the steel on

The Double “B-BERS”.

“How dare you, fine sir, put that fine steel on

within this seductive way.”

“Hush now, Miss B-bber. You know you FUCKING ENJOY IT!”

Within the raspy fields, high on Boone’s farm, smoking a fag and attempting a horribly gone wrong magic trick, Miss Bibsy Bobbet put on her quintuple shiny space suit and stepped onto the awaiting space vessel; the fucking space people loved her, worshipped her.

“Life is just a matter of finding your niche, your place,”

Bibsy Bobbet included.

CLICK ON THE HOT CHICK IN THE PIC.

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Identity 101 ~


IDENTITY 101 from “Found Ground”

The day is blue. The sky is wide. I walk briskly down an alleyway, two blocks east. There stands a Purple doorway. It is open. I make my way inside. An aroused anxiety fills me, as inside a narrow room, I listen to an old alarm clock radio blaring early Aretha. I absorb the sounds of Soul.

To the kitchen, in a worn cupboard, I find a semi-depleted bottle of smoky scotch. I pour a shot, then another. I turn my attention to a slightly ajar closet. Once inside, I search its confines slowly, methodically, finding a photo album with memories of a Father, Mother, and Daughter down by an unknown lake during autumn. I find various clothing in the closet and a collection of Masks: Latex masks, wooden masks, Slippery masks, identities ranging from Voodoo to Dr. Sulu slipped upon the heads of Salmon Mannequins; (I feel nice, surprised, yearning for a new disguise). I fixate on one particular mask, one that is the face of a devious being, a mutant half-breed: Man meets Serpent. I pull the masterful mask from its resting place spreading its opening wide, pulling it over my bewildered identity.

Over my head, upon my face, I caress my newfound brilliance in front of a musty mirror, feeling strengthened, proper, mystic. How lovely the slippery mask shaped to my head and face, so snug, as I begin to feel such a captivating sense of a reality that is truly REAL! (Out the window it is overcast, windy, frigid.)

“What to do, what to say?”  I suddenly begin to feel panic, unease.

“Who had I become?  What was happening inside of me, outside of me?”

I stood in front of a shattered mirror, as gapping gills formed from my neck: MY new identity became ONE with ME.

Down Aqua green and Cobalt blue streets, lunging forward within a furious pace, embracing some but forewarning most, I hail down a taxi and am driven to the sea. It is low tide as the wind decides to subside. Evil was never the intent; Just a new perspective, new experience, a new beginning.

Aaron Bainbridge

1966 – 2008

CLICK ON THE SEXY PIC BELOW. 

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Breathe


Twisted Tales influenced and inspired by the The Human Condition. 

Breathe

Ferocious Senor ChiChi


Ferocious Senor ChiChi~  My Chihuahua on steroids showing how ferocious he truly is.  🙂   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SKMB16bZ5Ok

BUDDY

ChiCHi Monster

ChiCHi with the rawhide

Inferno


It is both sophisticated and primal how a knight ravages his maiden, as the baboon reacts, lusts, possessed by his flesh fangs, moving with furious aggression, cornering you, controlling you; You are his chosen prey.  

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