The Guinea Pigging Goes Horribly Wrong?

The Cross—Mad: Bad: and dangerous to know


While I waited for the loyal test subject to show up, I debated on who
the next phase of the testing should be performed on.

After much thought. I decided that the test would be best performed in a
different country with the filthiest type of whore ever known to man:
the French whore.

I checked on how much money we had in the petty cash fund and found
$37.33 which was more than enough for the cost of a French whore and a
cheap hotel room.

When Jerome (our ever loyal test subject) arrived, I outlined the plan
to him after complimenting him on his exquisite taste in pimp-wear on
which he had the foresight to wear.

I handed him an envelope containing the money, printed directions
courtesy of Mapquest and a good supply of sperm pills and then he was on
his merry way to Canada.

Now the waiting game for the results began. I puttered around the house
for a bit and then decided to call the woman at her parents house. After
convincing her that I was over my Ronco Food Dehydrator spell she
decided it was safe to come home again.

The next morning I was awakened with a pounding on the front door. I
jumped out of bed and ran to the door expecting the Mounties, but found
a rather non-pimp looking Jerome still dressed in his pimp clothes which
now were dishevelled looking pimp clothes hence the non-looking
pimpishness about him.

I quickly threw on some clothes and told the woman I needed to go to the
corner store for some milk and smokes and then left with Jerome since I
was kind of skating on thin ice at home at that moment and someone
looking like a pimp showing up early in the morning would definitely not
help my cause.

I drove to the local park and, well, parked since that’s what you do at
places like that.

I asked him what the problem was and he started rambling about this and
that, stuff that really didn’t make sense. I let him go on for a bit and
then pressed in the car’s cigarette lighter and gave him a friendly
little warning as I gestured toward the little metal tube thing that was
most probably heating up quite nicely at that point.

He must have got the point since he made sense for the next five minutes
or so.

See, what happened was that he did go to Canada and he did find a nasty
French hooker and he did find a nasty cheap hotel room and the he did
take a a pill and they did get down to business and when he was done and
enjoying the after affects he heard a dripping sound and he couldn’t
figure out what it was but thought maybe it was the sink but it wasn’t
and it wasn’t the shower and so he turned on the lights and he looked at
the bed and he noticed the this French hooker was indeed VERY nasty and
then he noticed that there was stuff leaking from her





down there

down THERE

different part of her legs

between a couple toes

and from her head.

It was a milky substance, he said, and he tried to tell her but she was
sleeping or it looked like she was sleeping and he got scared OH GOD DID
HE GET scared so he got dressed and drove back across the border and now
he was here and the son was the father of the baby and that the trash
was already at the curb so what was momma yelling about and what was he
going to do now?

I pondered this dilemma for a moment and decided that we would have to
go back across that border and clean up this particularly nasty

COMING NEXT: Call CSI, they gotta look at this

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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