The End of the Guinea Pigging (with a life lesson)

Therion—Gothic Kabbalah

MoTW—Sweet Revenge

Even with Jerome wailing like a cat in heat, we made it across the
border with no problems.

Finding the hotel was also no issue even though it was down one side
street after another, making it seem as if we were journeying down the
path to hell or something close, like Omaha.

The building we finally ended up at seemed less a hotel the a hastily
constructed building made of mud and straw. I almost felt like huffing
and puffing while we approached the front door but figured one murder
was enough to be associated with for the day.

Up the unstable stairs we went until we reached a metal door. Jerome
opened it and we were on the roof.

Other than the air conditioner the roof was bare except for a few
decrepit pigeon coops. Towards these we ventured and when we reached the
first coop, I saw the hooker.

She was pinned to the mattress with what looked like off-yellow tendrils
coming from every open orifice on her body, as well as from some places
that shouldn’t have orifices.

Her mouth was open in what looked like a scream which almost caused a
tear or two to form in my eyes as I thought that it was such a horrible,
horrible way to die.

Then I heard a sound.


Seeing that this didn’t come from Jerome and that there was nobody else
occupying ay of the coops, I figured it came from me unknowingly, just
my way of expressing sadness and sympathy.

But the sound came again and I knew it didn’t come from me this time
since Jerome was pointing at the prone hooker, a look of wonderment
plastered about his disfigured face.

I moved closer to the hooker and looked down and saw that her tongue was
trying to move as that same “Gugagug” sound came from her open mouth.
I instructed Jerome to get some water and tried to gently raise her
stuck head from the mattress. After a few moments I found that gently
wasn’t doing the trick so I yanked her head forward and was rewarded
with a sound like velcro being pulled apart.

I worked my way down her body, first freeing one arm and then the other,
her buttocks and then both legs.

She was still making that same sound so I looked into her mouth and
discovered that a majority of her tongue was glued to the bottom of her
mouth with those tendrils so I reached in and yanked it free.

Jerome the arrived with a bucket of water followed by a desk clerk who
was demanding to know what was going on until he spotted the hooker with
the yellow tendrils causing him to stop, point and shout:
“Mon dieu! A pod person! I call zee police!”

Back through the door the clerk ran as Jerome yelled, “No! NO! NO

I grabbed the bucket of water and flung it, bucket and all, at the
hooker. It hit her square in the face and also must have been quite cold
water since it didn’t knock her out. Instead, she quickly got to her
feet and ran.

Right off the edge of the building.

Good thing I had pried her tongue loose since she didn’t scream
“Gugagug!” as she fell, but a more appropriate “Ahhhhhhh!”

I ran to the edge where she fell and found that it was our lucky day.
This being a cheap hotel, it was only two stories high plus she had
landed in a dumpster full of bad wine, rotten cabbage and expired brie
which had broken her fall quite nicely.

Jerome waved a quick goodbye and we were off. We ran down the stairs and
past the clerk who demanded that we “Ztop!” which we didn’t.

Outside I heard the distinct sound of hoofs which could only mean one

“MOUNTIE PO-PO!” yelled Jerome.

To the car we ran as the pounding hoofs came closer and then we were
speeding away as the first horse rounded the corner.

Back through the side streets we went and then we were at the border,
nothing to declare thank you, and then back into the USA. No harm, no

And that’s what happened when I decided to test out something advertised
in an email. Let this be some sort of lesson (other then that shit
really worked!) that’ll help guide you through some of those tough
decisions you need top make in your lifetime, for the bible says

“Thou shalt not testeth the amount of thy seed for it shalt spill
uponeth the earth with what thou shall muster with no helpeth.” Stephen

COMING NEXT: Surely something will happen?

Stephen Johnson

The idea of building a website with Bob came from Stephen in the days of message boards and chat rooms. We settled on the name and the rest is history. Retired since he hit the ripe age of 25, he spends most his time doing odd-jobs around the house and digging thru trash bins for "stuff that's still good." Stephen has contributed several short stories and hosted the "Lunatic Ravings" column since the beginning (1999). The idea of writing weekly columns came from Stephen before blogs or blog sites ever existed. So, I guess that makes him THE FIRST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD!!!

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