The soiled old troll sat in his adult diapers rubbing his enormous scabby ridden gut. He picked at his newly festering aids ridden cancer scabs. The scabs seemed to be taking over most parts of his repulsive sagging skin. He use to be able to limp to the bathtub once a month, plopping his freak of nature body into the rust coloured water. but he didn’t even bother to bathe anymore. All he wanted to do was drink everything away.
He just sat most days at his computer chair, breathing in his own retched stink fest odour, surfing bestiality porn sites and trying to rub his wrinkled up miniscule decaying pecker. He remembered the good old days, when he was young and he would rub the inch worm freakish thing super fast & gooey mayonnaise would come spurting out all over his yellow grinning few teeth.
he would save the guck in pickle jars. Storing it, in his cob webbed old hillbilly basement. Sometimes spreading it on his homemade peanut butter and banana fried sandwiches. Even the Viagra couldn’t seem to make it grow more than half an inch these days.
He became depressed about his failed life. He once had high hopes of becoming a licensed plumber, but no matter how many times he took his plumber test, he always failed. All plumbers in town had rejected his applications to join their unions and plumber companies.
He lived off disability checks and food stamps in a backwoods town. His mom was his dad’s sister. They never had much money but they had tried to raise their inbred kids the best they could. He really missed his mom and dad. He lived with them in the small hillbilly town all the way up until they died, never travelling, never going out to explore the world. He liked to stay close to the goats his dad had left him. Not only because they were his best friends growing up, but as his father had taught him, they had tighter pussies than his sisters or cousins. He remembered the good old days when him and pa would sit around watching episodes of green acres, drinking homemade moonshine after a long day of fishing, goat raping, and incest.
One night after drinking a bunch of Jim beam, he got in a fight with his downs syndrome obese girlfriend. he threatened to cut off his tiny weener all together in a drunken rage. He held the scissors in his hand all naked, grossly deformed, his putrid festering old body shaking.
“I’ll do it you gawd dam retarded biitch! I’ll fuking do it!” He yelled, at his slobbering confused girlfriend.
“Yous no do dats! Me and youz, somedays, we had, having children’s, cause I we loves each’s others! Meez wuvs youz!” his blob of human waste girlfriend yelled back at him.
He beat the shit out of her that night and chained her up in the backyard cages with his starving pit bulls and street mutts. Muzzled her for a few days before letting her out again. It was hard walking at all with out his cane. But it also worked good as a beat down stick when his ugly girlfriend got to lippy with him.
He had always wanted to get the sex change operation ever since he was young. the old diseased troll always felt like he was a woman trapped inside a sick mans body. When he wasn’t surfing the net for more bestiality porn, he tried to work at the local comedy club as a stand up comedian. But no one else found his jokes funny, no matter how many different disguises he wore, or many many fake names he tried to perform under.
They would throw beer bottles at his head, yelling…
“Get off stage! You suck! goat fucker!”
Eventually he was banned from the club all together, so his two dreams seemed almost gone now as the years slipped away. Plumber. Comedian.
He wondered what else he could try and be, but didn’t really care much anymore in his old age.
He did have a few sons somewhere in the world, after impregnating one of his sisters at a young age.
But the state had taken the boys away to go live in retard camps because their physical and mental deformities were beyond anything most doctors had even seen. Most of his other family members, all sisters, didn’t talk to him anymore. They had spread out across the hillbilly state, infesting all the trailer parks and breeding like Mexicans on liquid Viagra. Couple times he saw some of his sisters on a cops episode, but other than that. Never kept in touch with them.
Occasionally he would wobble his flatulence crippled flaking old body down to the small river in his backyard, passing the burnt tires, the old cabbage patch dolls, the dead trees, the broken lawnmowers, the buried dead bodies of hitchhikers and truckers, so he could check his turtle traps. He mostly lived off his turtle trappings and the occasional rabbit kill or trapped rodent. He sold most of his food stamps to support his huge alcohol intake. Not to mention his retarded down syndrome girlfriend never stopped eating. She would eat till she shit her self, or puked all over of him.
One day the creepy old man was laying spread eagle drunk on his couch while his obese down syndrome girlfriend shoved a frozen bat up his wrinkled used butt hole. he rubbed Crisco very quickly all over his disappearing penis. Two goats were inside the house watching, blasting re runs of green acres. Staring at old pictures of his mother and sisters. He feverishly worked away to try and make the inch worm grow. His girlfriend cheering him on.
“Youz can do its! Do its for farm hog goat belly, me hungry. Come on. Me wuvs youz!”
“Keep talking you retarded biitch! Keep talking! I think I’m going to cum!”
One of the goats yelped.. “bah… bahhh… baahh! Moooo.. Mooo!..”
The silly old diseased inbred troll was about to shoot his load for the first time in almost a decade.
“Mrrrhmmmpph.. Errr. Grrrrr… almost.. Wait.. Almost…grrrr.” he moaned, his grey long beard, jumping with fleas.
His girlfriends one good eye staring off at a pealing piece of paint on the top corner of his shit hole trailer, slobbering on herself. Sucking her thumb. Her other hand ramming the frozen bat up the sick old mans spotty bleeding anal crevice.
Suddenly his front door swung open frightening them both.
A freak of a man stood there, sun glistening down behind him, straw cowboy hat on, Speedo shorts, smoke dangling from his mouth, the good, the bad, and the ugly theme song whistling behind him, his face all deformed with zits and warts, a terrible whiskey nose. A greasy white shirt on that read. ‘Buxley penitentiary for the criminally insane’ on it.
The man spat his smoke out onto the old trolls carpet.
“I’m your boy pops. I’m your boy.”
KNUT HAMSUN
LUKE DAVIES
