BLUUUGGGRRRP!!!  Oops!!  Now I feel much better.  Oh well, I guess it's time to tell you humanoids my story.  It is a tale which I like to call, "Blood Bath A Day In The Life Of A Phychotic Killer".  Catchy name, isn't it?  Well, isn't it!?  Ssnnort!!  Ha, Ha!  Well, here we gooo!

     There I was, dragging my mutt, Spuds by it's scrawny throat, the way that I do everyday.
The same way it happens everyday, It happens again today.  The blood thirsty brats come
out of their hiding places to attack me.  Out of self defense, I grab my nine iron brat basher, which I always keep at my side for occasions like this.  I continually crash it down upon their skulls, until they implode from the force of my blows.  I then instinctively gorge myself with the remains until I make myself sick.  Then I drink the blood, which may come from the intestines.  Ahhhrrrggghh!!!  What is happening to me!?  I sit there and cry.

     Oh s#!t, I spilled my beer!  Hold the story for a moment, while I get another one.  Rriippp!!  Phew, it stinks in here.  I'd better open a window in here, before I die. . . . Oh wait, never mind.  It's making the room warmer.  Ahhh, there's the beer.  Come here Spuds and have some beer.  It's your favorite.  It's Coors!  Drink it you b!$ch or i'll hang you by your tongue again!  Good
mutt, now get the f@#k out of here, before I kill you!

     Oh, i'm sorry.  Where ws I?  Now I remember.  I was skipping through the forest and
staying away from the moors, with my mutt slung over my shoulder.  When all of a sudden,
from out of the West, there rode Little Red Riding Hood and the Three Bears.  I of course,
being a wolf and very hungry saw an easy score and took it.  The first to go was the little
witch in red and she did look good in red.  I grabbed her and tore her limb from limb, because
I wanted to see her in even more red.  I tore out her throat and just to make it interesting, I
slit her wrists to see how long it would take her to bleed to death.  She must have been a Hemophiliac, because her blood never slowed down in it's pace.  Did you ever hear the
sound that a radiator makes when the steam rises out of the pipes?  Well, that's what it
sounds like as the blood spits out of a wrist when it is cut cleanly.

     Life is not easily created and it is not always fun, but taking a life on the other hand is
done very  easily and if it is done correctly, can be allot of fun.  Now, before I forget the three
fur balls.  They were harder to kill, but they were so much more fun.  Ohh, the blood, the
blood!  Ha, ha, ha!  Ssnnoort!!  That red blood, Oh how I love it.  So pure, is that which
comes directly from the arteries of a fresh kill.

     Next came the baby bear, who as I ws punching through her rounded stomach, I came
across a fetus, which certainly didn't get there without help.  She just kept crying for her
mother, which was allot of fun to listen to, since she was crying for forgiveness and not for
the pain.

     Then came pops, who thought he was a brave enough man as not to cry.  He changed
his tune from base to soprano though, Once I relieved him of his manhood.  When I had
done this, he pleaded for a quick and merciful death.  In answer to his pleas, I skinned him
alive and poured salt and tobasco sauce onto it's remaining body parts.

     Last, but not least was momma bear.  She was the most fun, since she had just
witnessed the disembowlement of both her entire family and neighbor.  When I came for her,
she had the look of the Devil himself in her eyes.  She came at me with a power that she
had never known before, for she had made a pact with Prince of Darkness.  The pact stated
that if she is able to destroy me, then she would forfeit her soul to him at her demise.  He of course agreed, with a twisted grin on his twisted face.  So, she attacks me with the fierceness
of Hell backing her all of the way.  By the time she reaches me, I am holding in my hands the means in which to end all of our suffering and at the same time get rid of the insignificant,
lowlife garbage which inhabits this planet.  It is what mortals would call a Doomsday device.
As she reaches me, the hairy extremity which substitutes for my missing fingers pushes down
on the button and the world goes dark. . . . . . . . . .

     I awake in what I assume is Hell, but instead turns out to be the pigsty that I call a home.
I roll over to find my dead mutt lying beside me.  I push it's intestines back into the opening in
it's chest, Which I had carved out many years ago with my tongue.

     I just realized something.  I never told you who I am.  Or, have you guessed by now?  You probably have your own guesses, seeing as how you were sick enough to sit there and read
this bit of twisted tripe.  I for one and not going to tell.  Make up your own mind.

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Jason