Pineal Discharge

Short stories. Unrelated scenes of violence and bizarre vignettes.
Some(most) of these stories contain graphic violence,sexual content and drug use. Also , lots of fucking language and shit. So yeah , viewer discretion is advised? Not for children. Unless you're one of THOSE children.
Yeah , you know who you are.


Wait...what?

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27. Revenge of the Praying Mantis

So , picture this.

 

Bob sits in seriously congested traffic on a freeway. He's on his way to see THE BRIDE. Sludgy sounds ooze from his radio speakers. It pools on the car floor , collecting in sticky puddles. He groans and rubs sweat back into his face pores. Hot. So hot. The sun's like a diabolically sadistic omelette that seems determined to throw its unpleasant egg-y warmth at all life on earth-or at least , all life on the freeway.

Bob glances into his rear-view mirror and jumps out of skin. 

The Lady. The Lady who resembles The Blob. She's sitting in his back seat.

"Holy Fuck!" Bob expectorates. "You scared the piss out of me!" The blob lady climbs , goopily , to the front passenger's seat. "Sorry" she says. Her voice is like a kind of farting , throaty wheeze from the deep parts of the lungs. "You have something that belongs to me." She reaches a dripping hand to the cup holders and takes the mug containing THE GROOM'S penis. Bob debates quickly whether or not he should attack her. He still has that scalpel in his pocket. "You should be watching the road , assfuck!" She yells. Bob jolts back from his introverted mind trip. They're Flying , 100 mph Down the Freeway , to Imminent Doom. Bob slams down on the brakes and skids sideways before colliding with another vehicle. The two chunks of volatile metal and plastic explode in a fiery , miniature apocalypse. 

"You should be watching the road , assfuck!" Bob jolts back from his introverted mind trip and accelerates with traffic. "Hey! Do NOT fucking yell at me! What the penis shaft are you doing in my car?!" Bob realizes he's talking to nothing. The blob lady has disappeared , leaving behind a foul smelling layer of filth on the passenger's seat. The smell of the filth mixes with the smell of the goopy radio sound on the floor. Bob punches the steering wheel and yells random expletives. He hates cleaning sound off of things. It dries quickly , and is a son of bitch to get rid of when that happens.

After a fucking hour on the freeway , Bob finally arrives at THE BRIDE'S house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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