The Rooster Chronicals: Part IV

His eyes were distant, perhaps focusing on some genetically predetermined thoughts on the afterlife he would soon embrace. I had his body draped across my arms loosely; there was no struggle, despite my continued taunting and heckling previously from beyond the gate of his cage.

"I'm going to kill you."

"You are going to die."

"I am going to murder you in cold blood, you stupid motherfucker."

And yet even at the time, despite my sophomoric costume and alcohol-infused sweat, he saw right through my crazed blue eyes and didn't even register my insults. He stared back in awe as if English were nothing but a collection of irregular Neanderthal grunts, never once displaying any sign of weakness. Or fear.

We now approached the chopping block. Me and my sacrifice. I again looked deep into his eyes, this time searching for some excuse, some sign of intelligence, some evidence of a soul. And I found nothing. It's as if the rooster were as immobile and expressionless a piece of grass. Fucking birds.

I bent to one knee as if to propose to a stump of wood and gingerly inserted the head of my cock between the two nails. His eyes finally glared back in apparent shock - alas, but it was too late my friend. Alas. I had not been the judge. I had not been on the jury of his peers. But the executioner must work just like the tax collector or hatter - yeah, even more so - for without men of my type, who would liberate the inflicted witches of Our Faire Townne?

The lovely assistant chosen to accompany me grasped forth upon the scaled, pronged feet of Our Dear Byrd. She pulled tight. I grasped the blade-handle with a tender loving squeeze, likening it to foreplay. Then I clamped on the handle, raised the blade, and prepared to swing.

Suddenly, at the last minute, the phone rang - it was the Governor! There had been a reversal! The rooster let out a squaw of relief!

Alas, that was all an illusion brought about by the blade of the knife striking upon the delicate vertebrae. I swung hard, but not enough, for the neck made a disjointed tear - and roosty was loose! In a mad dash, his defiant head was placed back bettwitx the nails. Whack. Whack. Whack. And finally, Whack.

Five times. Yes, it took five god-damn times to separate the glorious head of Heloise from his body.

I was suddenly covered in a fine, warm red mist and the taste of copper invaded my closed mouth. My eyes stung. I felt the warm rush of release that typically accompanies an orgasm, only this time, it was the morbid rush received when one releases another from this mortal coil. I was now a man.

Oh Russia, plunge deeper into my Georgia!

Have any of you guys ever hit anything while you were driving? I mean, like a dog or a chicken or a penguin or some shit? Well, once I hit a racoon. It went 'THUMP' and I kinda just kept on driving. I assume it is dead by now as that was about 12 years ago. If you are like me, you visit poetv.com daily. That's Portal Of Evil TV in case you were confused and thought it was a buncha videos of the Raven. Well, my latest, favoritest video from that site has to be this one. This girl hits a bird and...well, as the comments say, "She's a screamer, not a moaner."

Hey, did I yet mention that the Dead Milkmen - one of my personal favorite bands of all time - will be playing this November in Austin for the first time since the bassist killed himself?

Man, nothing is scarier than sharks, right?I mean, they have the strongest bite strength in the world. Well, great whites do - and they surmise that the most awesome and coolest shark of all, the megladon, had the strongest bite of all things ever. I mean, the fucker ate whales for breakfast. And every single time I've tried to eat whales for breakfast, all I get is really bad blue diarrhea.

Hey everyone! One last biscuit of information - tonight is the Perseid meteor shower. Stay up late, grab a foldy-chair, and sit yo' ass outside and watch the broken falling pieces of American economy. I mean meteors. Whatever, just enjoy the natural beauty of the planet instead of your LCD monitor and/or television. Or at least be fuckin' if you are indoors tonight. Sheesh. It'd be nice if you could move some mountains a little bit closer to us too. I mean, we could climb up on all top of them like they were cans of beans, setup a small shade structure, and drink the night away watching the magic of HD real life star gazing. Also, rumour has it, if you catch one of the 'shooting stars' on your tongue, you get access to this secret bonus level, where if you run fast enough and collect enough coins, you can earn up to seven extra lives! Fuck yeah! Nevermind, it was last night. Fuck. Thanks, Michelle.